She was troubled about that, and about
my being so thin, and she told me Jerry had promised her, if she
would bring him three silver spoons, that he'd charm my cough
away and make me plump - "flesh up," she said. I couldn't help
laughing; but it was a terrible night! I had to put Cissie into my
own bed, and stroke her hand till she cried herself to sleep. What
else could I have done? When she woke, and I coughed - I suppose
I can cough in my own room if I please - she said that she'd killed
me, and asked me to have her hanged at Lewes sooner than send
her to the uttermost ends of the earth away from me.'
'How awful! What did you do, Phil?'
'Do? I rode off at five in the morning to talk to Master Jerry,
with a new lash on my whip. Oh, I was furious! Witchmaster or no
Witchmaster, I meant to -'
Ah! what's a Witchmaster?'
'A master of witches, of course. I don't believe there are
witches; but people say every village has a few, and Jerry was the
master of all ours at Marklake. He has been a smuggler, and a
man-of-war's man, and now he pretends to be a carpenter and
joiner - he can make almost anything - but he really is a white
wizard.
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