“Then, if you know what is the matter with Paddy, tell us,” commanded the Story Girl, standing up. She said it quietly; but Peter obeyed. I think he would have obeyed if she, in that tone and with those eyes, had ordered him to cast himself into the depths of the sea. I know I should.
“He’s BEWITCHED—that’s what’s the matter with him,” said Peter, half defiantly, half shamefacedly.
“Bewitched? Nonsense!”
“There now, what did I tell you?” complained Peter.
The Story Girl looked at Peter, at the rest of us, and then at poor Pat.
“How could he be bewitched?” she asked irresolutely, “and who could bewitch him?”
“I don’t know HOW he was bewitched,” said Peter. “I’d have to be a witch myself to know that. But Peg Bowen bewitched him.”
“Nonsense!” said the Story Girl again.
“All right,” said Peter. “You don’t have to believe me.”
“If Peg Bowen could bewitch anything—and I don’t believe she could—why should she bewitch Pat?” asked the Story Girl. “Everybody here and at Uncle Alec’s is always kind to her.”