Page:Wet Magic - Nesbit.djvu/19

Sabrina Fair "I see a football match, and our chaps winning," said Bernard heavily, joining in the new game.

"Shut up," said Francis. "That isn't play. There was something."

"Suppose it is magic," said Mavis again.

"We've played magic so often, and nothing's ever happened—even when we made the fire of sweet-scented woods and eastern gums, and all that," said Bernard; "it's much better to pretend right away. We always have to in the end. Magic just wastes time. There isn't any magic really, is there, Mavis?"

"Shut up, I tell you," was the only answer of Francis, his nose now once more flattened against the smooth green glass. Here Aunt Enid's voice was heard on the landing outside, saying, "Little ones—bed," in no uncertain tones.

The two grunted as it were in whispers, but there was no appeal against Aunt Enid, and they went, their grunts growing feebler as they crossed the room, and dying away in a despairing silence as they and Aunt Enid met abruptly at the top of the stairs.

"Shut the door," said Francis, in a strained sort of voice. And Mavis obeyed, even though he hadn't said "please." She really was an excellent sister. Francis, in moments of weakness, had gone so far as to admit that she wasn't half bad.

"I say," she said when the click of the latch assured her that they were alone, "how could it be magic? We never said any spell."

"No more we did," said Francis, "unless— And besides, it's all nonsense, of course, about magic. It's just a game we play, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Mavis said doubtfully; "but what did you mean by ‘unless'?"

"We weren't saying any spells, were we?"

"No, of course we weren't—we weren't saying anything—"

"As it happens I was."

"Was what? When?" 9