“Matt,” he murmured.
“Ah, mad!” she cried, in ecstasy. “We are cousins—I knew it! That’s what they call me.”
Her wild eyes shone in the firelight. The boy shuddered.
“Not mad, but Matt!” he corrected her.
“Ah, yes, Mad Matt! Cousins! Mad Peggy—Mad Matt!”
“I’m not mad,” he protested, feebly.
“Yes, yes, you are!” she cried, passionately. “I can see it in your face. And yet you won’t give me a cup of water.”
“You’ve drunk ’nough,” said the boy, soothingly.
“Oh, what lovely little devils,” she exclaimed, catching sight of the wall decorations. “Do you see devils, too? Didn’t I say we were cousins? Why, there’s one of the bridegrooms—ha! ha! ha! I guess he didn’t show the cloven hoof this morning.”
“Which is the bridegroom?” asked Matt, piqued into curiosity.