"Well," said Janet, "I know quite well what boys are like; and I'm not going to give myself up to their tender mercies. Of course I don't believe in that silly, stupid story about the Witch, but I do think that you and that fine Gerald of yours over there would be quite capable of playing me a trick, and dressing up as the Witch, or something of that sort. If you both promise on your honor—and Irishmen seem to think a great lot of their honor—if you'll both promise that you'll do nothing mean of that sort, why I'll go to the Witch's Island any night you like, and stay there from nine till twelve o'clock."
"That's all right," said Patrick. "Gerry and I will give you our solemn promise that we'll take you there and go away again, and come back at midnight to fetch you, and that we won't do anything to frighten you ourselves, nor, as far as we can tell, allow anyone else to play a trick on you. There, now, are you satisfied?"
"I suppose I am."
"What night will you go?"
"To-morrow night, if you wish."
"That will do finely. The moon will be at her full from nine till twelve to-morrow night, and if the Witch comes out of her lair you will have a grand opportunity to get a good view of her. Well, then, that's all right; only you mustn't tell anybody what you're going to do, for, hark ye, Miss May, my Uncle Dennis over there believes in that Witch as he believes in his own life. You wouldn't catch him spending three hours alone on that island; no, not for anybody under the sun."
Bridget had felt very angry when Janet had coolly proposed that she and her sister should be decked out in her finery; but, angry as she was, the spell which was over her was sufficiently potent to make her comply with the audacious request which had been made to her. Accordingly, Janet and Sophy looked wonderfully smart when they took off their light dust cloaks in the enormous square oak hall at Court Macsherry. There is really very little difference between one soft coral pink sash and another, between one row of sky-blue Venetian beads and another row; and although Aunt Kathie, with one flashing glance of her bright eyes, discovered that the sashes with which the May girls were ornamented, and the beads which encircled their pretty throats, belonged to Bridget, no one else guessed this for a moment. The Mays looked extra smart and extra pretty, but Biddy had taken less pains than usual with her own dress. It was rich and expensive in texture, as almost all her clothes were, but it was put on untidily, and was too heavy and hot-looking for this lovely summer evening. Her cheeks were flushed, too, and her eyes too bright. She looked like a girl who might be ill presently, and when Evelyn Percival, running down to meet her friends, asked Biddy if she had a headache, she had to own to the fact that this was the case.
Evelyn was not a pretty girl, but her sweet, kind face looked full of pleasantness to Bridget to-night. Her eyes had such an open, truthful way of looking at one, her lips were so kindly in their curves, her voice so pleasant in its tone, that Squire O'Hara, as he said afterward, fell in love with her on the spot. There were several handsome young Irish girls living at Court Macsherry, and Evelyn looked only like a very pale little flower among them; nevertheless, the squire singled her out for special and marked approval.
"So you are one of my colleen's schoolfellows!" he said. "Well, well, everyone to their taste, but I should have thought Lady Kathleen would have asked you to come and stay with us at Castle Mahun."
"I shall be very glad to come over with my cousins to see you some day," replied Evelyn. "I am not Irish, but I love Ireland, and I think Court Macsherry the sweetest place in the world."