“I don’t think it’s possible,” said Leslie slowly. Then he added politely:
“Shall we talk of something else?”
Edith went to the window. Her eyes did not shine so much when she came back--perhaps his courage and self-command were overcoming the magic. It seemed like it, for her voice was not so gay. To begin with, it had sounded very gay, as if she would like to dance and play games. This was probably what she had done with father. She had bewitched him completely. Mr. Flinders had said so.
“Your father told me, Leslie,” said Edith when she returned from the window, “that you were very fond of soldiers. I, too, am very fond of soldiers, so I thought perhaps you would like to see some I bought this morning--they are two cavalry regiments; both the generals have cocked hats and swords.”
“Are there guns?” asked Leslie with forgetful rapture.
“Yes, there are guns and gun-carriages. Shall I clear this table? There, you know how to fasten them on perhaps! Will you show me how?”
Leslie regained his knowledge of the situation.
“They are very easy to put on,” he said. “You run them along like this. Are they imitation, or can they go off?”
“They can go off with peas,” said Edith kindly.
Leslie’s face flushed--real guns that could go off with peas were excellent and sane amusements even for an enchantress. By-and-by he forgot her profession, and began to order her about. They played contentedly for an hour, then the clock struck six. Leslie counted it. “Shortly after six, my poor dear boy, they will let you come home,” his Aunt Etta had said. He put down the general and pushed the table away; his lips quivered.