when he offended her. But she isn't a witch—that's ridiculous."
"All right. But wait till I tell you. When Peg Bowen was leaving Pat was stretched out on the steps. She tramped on his tail. You know Pat doesn't like to have his tail meddled with. He slewed himself round and clawed her bare foot. If you'd just seen the look she gave him you'd know whether she was a witch or not. And she went off down the lane, muttering and throwing her hands round, just like she did in Lem Hill's cow pasture. She put a spell on Pat, that's what she did. He was sick the next morning."
We looked at each other in a miserable, perplexed silence. We were only children—and we believed that there had been such things as witches once upon a time—and Peg Bowen was an eerie creature.
"If that's so—though I can't believe it—we can't do anything," said the Story Girl drearily. "Pat must die."
Cecily began to weep afresh.
"I'd do anything to save Pat's life," she said. "I'd believe anything."
"There's nothing we can do," said Felicity impatiently.
"I suppose," sobbed Cecily, "we might go to Peg Bowen and ask her to forgive Pat and take the spell off him. She might, if we apologized real humble."
At first we were appalled by the suggestion. We didn't believe that Peg Bowen was a witch. But to
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