“Well, we’ll know in time if the things she said were going to happen do,” mused Peter.
“Do you suppose your father is really coming home?” queried Felicity.
“I hope not,” answered Peter decidedly.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Felicity severely.
“No, I oughtn’t. Father got drunk all the time he was home, and wouldn’t work and was bad to mother,” said Peter defiantly. “She had to support him as well as herself and me. I don’t want to see any father coming home, and you’d better believe it. Of course, if he was the right sort of a father it’d be different.”
“What I would like to know is if Aunt Olivia is going to be married,” said the Story Girl absently. “I can hardly believe it. But now that I think of it—Uncle Roger has been teasing her ever since she was in Halifax last summer.”
“If she does get married you’ll have to come and live with us,” said Cecily delightedly.
Felicity did not betray so much delight and the Story Girl remarked with a weary little sigh that she hoped Aunt Olivia wouldn’t. We all felt rather weary, somehow. Peg’s predictions had been unsettling, and our nerves had all been more or less strained during our sojourn under her roof. We were glad when we found ourselves at home.
The folks had not been at all troubled about us, but it was because they were sure the storm had come up before we would think of leaving Cousin Mattie’s and not because they had received any mysterious message from Peg’s skull. We were relieved at this, but on the whole, our adventure had not done much towards clearing up the vexed question of Peg’s witchcraft.