“Good, I b’lieve,” said Aaron. “I never heard of their doing anybody any harm.”
“Have you ever seen one?” asked Loveday, in a lowered voice.
“No,” said Aaron; “they lives in caves and wells, mostly—so father says—and they’m always digging. You ask father to tell ’ee about them.”
“No, you tell me. I want to hear about them now. Go on.”
“Well, if I tell you one story, you must tell me one.”
“All right,” said Loveday; “go on. It must be about buccas, ’cause I never heard about them before, and—and I don’t think there are any.”
“Aw, hush! Don’t ’ee say such things!” cried Aaron, quite scared. “You’d be sorry if you was to get Barker’s knee, and you will most likely, if you say things like that. They do all sorts of things to folks that ’fend them.”
Loveday felt rather frightened, but she would not let Aaron know it if she could help it.
“I thought you said they were good fairies,” she said half irritably.