were not much
heavier than three feathers.

"Have you remembered my advice?" he inquired. "Have you begun to write?"

"Yes, a little," I said. "What about your book?"

He shrugged his shoulders, looking melancholy.

"Won't the plot come right?" I asked.

"No. Nothing comes right."

"What a pity!"

"Yes, it's a pity. But I can't help it."

"Can't Mrs. West help?"

"She's not in the mood. Not that it's all her fault. Probably it's just
as much mine. We're getting on each other's nerves--and that's new to
us. There won't be a book. There can't be a book as things are."

"Yet you're going on with your trip?"

"Oh, yes, we're going on with our trip. Aline wouldn't give that up."

"If it hadn't been for me," I said, "it would have been all right for
you both. I feel a _beast_! I've spoiled everything."

"You're a witch, and you've bewitched us. Yes! That's what you have
done."

"Thanks for your polite way of putting it," said I. "'Witch' is a nicer
epithet than 'beast.' I wish--I almost wish--I'd never seen any of you!"

"I don't," said he. "And I don't believe Somerled does. To go back to
the time when we didn't know that the witch-child existed would be going
back from electricity to candles."

"You have a pretty way of poking fun at me," I laughed. "But I suppose
you mean I've given you all a shock. Well, you'll soon be rid of me.
Three days more, and the end! But I do wish I knew how to mend matters
and make you and your sister happy again, at once."

"I could tell you how," he said quickly.

"Do, then! You've just time, if you hurry up before the others come."

He looked round, and there were Mrs. James and Mrs. West walking toward
us with Sir S. They were very near.

He hesitated, and his face grew red. "Will you promise not to be angry?"
he almost whispered.

"I promise! Tell me."

"If you want to make everything come right for everybody in a minute,
you must turn your attention entirely to me."

"What good would that do?" I asked stupidly.

"It would do me all the good in the world, because, as I told you,
you've bewitched me. It would do my sister good because--well, because
she's particularly anxious for you to like me. And it would do Somerled
good because--it might teach him his own mind--bring him to his senses."

"I don't understand one word you're talking about!" I broke out.

"It doesn't so much matter what you understand as what you do. Dear
little Miss MacDonald, will you tr