Ruby burst out laughing.
“You’ve been asleep and dreaming, you silly girl,” she said. “Winfried, do you hear? Mavis says a blue butterfly flew past.”
“It kissed my cheek,” said Mavis.
Winfried smiled: “It’s quite possible,” he said. Ruby was just turning upon him with her laughter, when something made her jump in turn. Something cold and damp touched her hand: she had taken her glove off and was dabbling idly in the water.
“Ugh,” she said, “I do believe that was a toad.” The laugh was against her now.
“A toad, Ruby, out at sea! What are you thinking of?” said Mavis. “You needn’t make fun of my butterfly if you talk of toads.”
“Well, it was something slimy and horrid like a toad,” said Ruby. “Perhaps it was only a fish. But whatever it was, I believe it was a trick of Winfried’s. I’m sure, positive sure, you’re a wizard, Winfried.”
She was half in fun and half in earnest. But the boy took it quite composedly.
“No, I’m not,” he said; “and no more is gran. But—people don’t understand, you see. If they see that one’s a bit different from others they’ve no words for it but wizard and uncanny, and they get frightened when it should be just the other way.”
This was much more of a speech than the fisher-boy was in the habit of making. Both the children listened with interest.