"I—I know," said the boy, "but—but I can't tell you. I—I don't know how."
"Suffering sea serpents!" exclaimed the newcomer. "You certainly are the queerest I ever met!"
"No queerer than you are," responded Junior, indignantly. "You're the queerest person I ever met! Coming up through the sand in such a way!"
"Humph!" retorted the Witch. "How else could I come up? There's nothing else here but sand to come up through. You can't blame that on me."
"Oh, I'm not blaming you," said Junior. "I'm only telling you. I don't suppose it is your fault that all this sand is here. It only seemed so strange for a person to be underneath it. You don't live there, do you?"
"I certainly do!" replied the other; "and all my family, too."
"Underneath the sand? Why, I never heard of such a thing! I—I can't believe it!"
"Now look here," said the Sand Witch. "I won't let anybody talk that way to me. If you don't believe I live underneath the sand come on down and see for yourself. Just hold your nose tight with the fingers of your right hand, put your left hand above your head, draw in a deep breath; and down you go, like this."
Thrusting a hand above her head, and grasping her nose, she took a deep breath, and zip—she sank through the sand like a flash, just the way Junior's father always sank into the ocean when he was bathing. Then bing—the next moment she popped up again, smiling cheerfully. "See how easy it is? Come on, now you try it!"
"No, thank you," said Junior. "I'd rather stay on top of the sand."