"Well, dame," he began, "and how goes the world with you?" and almost before Ysenda heard the first words of her reply, the young girl guessed, what indeed she was already sure of, that Michael's trial of the magic spell had succeeded—so bright and happy looked the dame, so bursting with joyful excitement were Paul and Mattie.
"Oh, I am all of a tremble with thankfulness," replied Martha. "Such a feast as we have had! Never was there a kinder host than young Michael——"
"And, and," interrupted the children, forgetting their shyness, "we're to have dinner with him every Sunday—just fancy that! And see what we've got to take home for a treat," and they held out the beautiful oranges.
"I am pleased——" began Ysenda, but her father interrupted her.
"Young Michael, did you say," he inquired, turning to the dame, "young Michael! How comes it that he can afford to give feasts? I thought it was all he could do to keep himself—not to speak of feasting."
"And a real feast it was," said Martha, "roast ducks, and pies, and——"
"Plum-pudding, and these oranges and apples," the children went on. "And every Sunday, sir, every Sunday it's to be the same—dinner with him."
"Glad to hear it," said the farmer, rather shortly.
Then with a nod of farewell, and a sweet smile from his daughter, the two walked on.
For a few moments neither spoke. They were near their own home by this time. Suddenly the farmer exclaimed: