Anny shuddered; she shared in all the superstitions of the day, and witches and the evil eye were well known to her.
“Ay, they do!” she faltered, “but what say you?”
“I say—naught!”
Pet came a little nearer and her voice sank to a whisper.
Anny shrieked and started back.
“Holy Mother of God, defend me!” she muttered.
Pet laughed weirdly.
“Prayers don’t frighten Pet Salt,” she whispered, coming still nearer to the terrified Anny, who clung to the gunwale.
“What will you do?” The girl’s voice was so low that Pet could hardly hear it.
“Nay! What will you do, ronyon? Shall the handsome captain lie by you or no?”