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Only a little one," she added hastily, for the mother looked at her oddly, "only as a sort of counter-irritant. And it needn't be really hard, you know " "Ach, she's a witch Mutti, she's a witch!" shrieked the child, flinging his face, butter and all, at these portentous words, into his mother's lap. "There, there, poor tiny one," soothed the mother, with an indignant side-glance at Priscilla.
Trudi did not at all regard the verbal sketch of P. Blinders as a correct one, but though her love was blind to his pimples and ignored his stumpiness, she could not deny the spectacles, which were to her as peepholes affording visions of a blissful married future. "He is a Herr who brought me news from my Mutti at home in Germany.
"She's a witch, Mutti!" roared the child, "I tell it to thee again therefore is she so black, and must not show her face!" "Hush, hush, shut thy little eyes," soothed the mother, putting her hand over them. To Priscilla she said, with an obvious dawning of distrust, "But Fräulein, what reason can you have for hiding yourself?"
"Does he?" said Priscilla, immediately conceiving a prejudice against the father. "Why don't she take that black thing off?" said the child. "Hush, hush, small impudence. The Fräulein will take it off in a minute. The Fräulein has only just got in." "Mutti, is she a witch? Mutti, Mutti, is she a witch, Mutti?" The child, his eyes fixed anxiously on Priscilla's swathed head, began to whimper.
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