"If I were a goblin, I'd come, for music like that," cried Burt, as they started rapidly homeward.
"You are much too big to suggest a culprit fay," said Amy.
"But the description of the fay's charmer is your portrait," he replied, in a low tone:
"'But well I know her sinless mind
Is pure as the angel forms above,
Gentle and meek, and chaste and kind,
Such as a spirit well might love.'"
"Oh, no; you are mistaken, I'm not meek in the least. Think of the punishment:
"'Tied to the hornet's shardy wings,
Toss'd on the pricks of nettles' stings;'
you know the rest."
"What witchery has got into you to-night, Amy?"
"Do you think I'm a witch? Beware, then. Witches can read men's thoughts."
"That last song was so good that I, for one, would be glad of more," cried
Webb.