Down in her heart, she was coddling the wild, improbable hope that Mr.
Richard Flanders might be somewhere in the neighbourhood, watching her
with proud, but remorseful eyes!
Mr. Bingle turned to her after the children were safely stowed away in
the 'bus and ready for the long ride home. He had his hat in his hand
and he bowed very low, with the old-fashioned courtesy that time and
environment had failed to modify.
"My dear young lady, you remind me of the fairy princess that I knew
so well as a boy. You spring up out of the ground and--Whist! you
perform deeds of magic and enchantment. I am sorry that we cannot have
you hovering about us forevermore. We are all enchanted."
"Thank you," she said, with her gay smile. "Do you still believe in
fairies?"
"I do," said he.
"And witches?"
"Absolutely," said he, with boyish enthusiasm. "And wizards, too--and,
I'm ashamed to admit it--ghosts. Good-bye. Thank you for the spell
you've cast upon us. I think it has done all of us a lot of good. I
undertook a task that was beyond me, bringing these youngsters here
for a lark.
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