Anny clenched her little brown hands so that the nails cut into her palms. The vision of Hal’s hurt and angry face kept rising up before her.
“And if I do not wed him what will you do?” she said at last.
“Bewitch you, girl, so that even your young slave, Hal, may loathe you,” Pet began in a slow sing-song voice. “So that your beautiful black hair may fall off on the sand like seaweed, leaving you old and hairless—so that your eyes may burn up and grow dim and the sight of the sea never more be seen in them—so that your teeth may grow black and ache with the pain of ten thousand devils tearing at their roots—so that your nails may drop off and lie on the floor like shells, and your fingers wither and grow black, and their knuckles decay and the joints drop off, and——”
Anny covered her eyes.
“Oh, peace—peace, I pray you,” she screamed. “I will do anything. Oh, peace——”
Pet began to laugh.
“Have a care, Anny, how you tell this,” she said, “or I will bewitch thee certainly.”
Anny looked at the woman curiously.
“Yet I will not wed,” she announced suddenly. “I mind me when you vowed that Master Pattern should have a blister grow on his skin to the size of an egg, and I mind me that he had no such thing at all.”
Pet began to swear heartily.