The Rich Man crackled in the bushes. He reached out and grabbed my foot. He pulled me back. His face looked pretty queer.
"Yes, she's been there all the time," he whispered. "But not a soul knows it!—I wanted her to see it work!—I wanted to be sure that she liked it—But I was afraid to bring her in! She catches everything so! And I knew there were children here! And I was afraid there might be something contagious!"
He peered out through the Lilac Branches. There was quite a good deal to peer at.
Down in the meadow Rosalee was still running up and down the soft banks of the brook trying to catch the Celluloid Fish. She had on a green dress. It was a slim dress like a willow wand. She had her shoes and stockings in one hand. And a great bunch of wild blue Forget-me-Nots in the other. Her hair was like a gold wave across her face. She looked pretty. The Springtime looked pretty too.—Out in the wood-shed my Father was still wrestling with his wings.
Up on the green mound by the house our Aunt Esta was still patting her hair while the New Minister stared at her hands.
The Rich Man turned very suddenly and stared at me.
"Contagious?" he gasped out suddenly. "Why, upon my soul, Ruthie—it's just about the most contagious place that I ever was in—in my life!"
He gave a funny little laugh. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the road. He groaned.
"But I shall certainly be ruined, Ruthie," he said, "if my little daughter Posie or my little daughter Posie's Black Woman ever see me at close range—in these clothes!" He took my chin in his hands. He looked very deep into my eyes. "Ruthie," he said, "you seem to be a very intelligent child.—If you can think of any way—any way, I say—by which I can slink off undetected into the house—and be washed——"
"Oh Shucks! That's easy!" I said. "We'll make Posie be the Witch!"