The witch changed face and tone and everything like lightning, and threw this last in with a sudden grace and sweetness that contrasted strangely with her usual sharpness. Zoe heard, and turned round to look down on her with a smile as sweet as honey. “I hardly think that is a drawback,” said she, amicably. “Does not being able to leave a place make it sweeter? for then we are free in it, you know. But I must own there _is_ a drawback--the boys' faces, Miss Gale, they _are_ so pasty.” “Indeed!” says Rhoda, pricking up her ears. “Form no false hopes of an epidemic. This is not an infirmary in a wood, Miss Gale,” said Vizard. “My sister is a great colorist, and pitches her expectations too high. I dare say their faces are not more pasty than usual; but this is a show place, and looks like a garden; so Zoe wants the boys to be poppies and pansies, and the girls roses and lilies. Which--they--are--not.” “All I know is,” said Zoe, resolutely, “that in Islip the children's faces are rosy, but here they are pasty--dreadfully pasty.” “Well, you have got a box of colors. We will come up some day and tint all the putty-faced boys.” It was to Miss Dover the company owed this suggestion. “No,” said Rhoda. “Their faces are my business; I'll soon fix them. She didn't say putty-faced; she said pasty.” “Grateful to you for the distinction, Miss Gale,” said Zoe. Miss Gale proceeded to insist that boys are not pasty-faced without a cause, and it is to be sought lower down. “Ah!” cried she, suddenly, “is that a cherry that I see before me? No, a million. They steal them and eat them by the thousand, and that's why. Tell the truth, now, everybody--they eat the stones.” Miss Vizard said she did not know, but thought them capable. “Children know nothing,” said Vizard. “Please address all future scientific inquiries to an 'old inhabitant.' Miss Gale, the country abounds in curiosities; but, among those curiosities, even Science, with her searching eye, has never yet discovered an unswallowed cherry stone in Hillstoke village.” “What! not on the trees?” “She is too much for me. Drive on, coachman, and drown her replies in the clatter of hoofs. Round by the Stag, Zoe. I am uneasy till I have locked Fair Science up. I own it is a mean way of getting rid of a troublesome disputant.” “Now I think it is quite fair,” said Fanny. “She shuts you up, and so you lock her up.”