"Why, you must have been bewitched. I wonder, now, if the witch's house did not seem to you a palace?"
"It seemed a very nice place."
"And the witch herself a sable princess?"
"I think she is a great deal better than a princess."
"Exactly so," said Gary, with a perfectly sober face. "The witch drew water, didn't she?"
"I don't know what you mean. Mrs. Benoit used to bring pails of water from her well."
"Very good. And you never heard her incantations, muttering in the morning before the dew was off the grass, or at night just as the first beams of the moon lighted on the topmost boughs of the trees?"
Daisy was confounded. "Mr. McFarlane," she said, after a moment's looking at him "I hope I do not know what you mean."
At that, Gary McFarlane went off into an ecstasy of laughter, delighted and amused beyond count. Preston interrupted the sponge-cake exercise, and Daisy felt her sofa shaking with his burden of amusement. What had she done? Glancing her eye towards Dr. Sandford, who sat near, she saw that a very decided smile was curling the corners of his mouth. A flush came up all over Daisy's face; she took some tea, but it did not taste good any longer.
"What did you think I meant? come, Daisy, tell me," said Gary, returning to Daisy as soon as he could get over his paroxysm of laughter. "What did you think I meant? I shouldn't wonder if you had some private witchcraft of your own. Come! what did you think I meant?"