“Yes, if you'll promise not to spoil it.”
He laughed slightly, and then both he and the other—whom he called Slim—bent over and looked closely at the tips of my fingers. “Other side, please,” he said after a time, and they subjected my nails to a like examination. The others, who had been at the remoter parts of the table, wandered up and looked over their shoulders. After tapping my nails and lifting up one or more fingers, Wag stood upright and said:
“Well, I s'pose it's true, and you can't. I thought your sort could do anything.”
“I thought much the same about you,” I said in self-defence. “I always thought you could fly, but you——”
“So we can,” said Wag very sharply, and his face grew red.
“Oh,” I said, “then why haven't you been doing it to-night?”
He kicked one foot with the other and looked quickly at Slim. The rest said nothing and edged away, humming to themselves.
“Well, we can fly perfectly well, only——”
“Only not to-night, I suppose,” said I, rather unkindly.
“No, not to-night,” said Wag; “and you needn't laugh, either—we'll soon show you.”