"Now, Prunella," he said sternly, "there's something very queer about all this, and I believe you can explain it. Well? I'm waiting."
Prunella gave a little enigmatical smile.
"What did she say when you saw her?" she asked.
"Say? Why, she was evidently scared out of her wits, and didn't know what she was saying. She babbled something about the sun being too hot—though it seems to me very ordinary autumn weather that we're having. And then she went on about cutting somebody's fiddle strings ... oh, I don't know what!"
Prunella gave a low cry of horror.
"Cut the fiddle strings!" she repeated incredulously. And then she added with a triumphant laugh, "she can't do that!"
"Now, young lady," he cried roughly, "no more of this rubbish! Do you or do you not know what has taken Moonlove?"
For a second or two she gazed at him in silence, and then she said slowly, "Nobody ever knows what happens to other people. But, supposing ... supposing she has eaten fairy fruit?" and she gave a little mocking smile.
Silent with horror, Master Ambrose stared at her.
Then he burst out furiously, "You foul-mouthed little hussy! Do you dare to insinuate...."