"What, Norah," said Mavis, laughing, "you a country girl, and afraid
of a flitter-mouse!"
"Yes," said Billy, "she's afraid of the flitty-mouse. Isn't she a
coward? You are a coward, Norah."
And then the laugh was turned against Billy; for the bat passing again
and lower than before, Billy himself ducked and crouched
automatically.
"Who's the coward now, young sir?"
"I don't mind anything that has wings," said Rachel. "It's what goes
creeping and crawling that I'm afraid of."
"I don't mind ear-wigs," said Billy defiantly.
And Dale, while he talked without interest and ate without appetite,
watched Norah. She had changed her gown an hour ago, and obviously
when changing had discarded the burden of under-petticoats; this other
gown hung close and yet limp about her limbs, modeling itself to each
slim length and shapely curve; and he thought it made her look like
the statue of a Grecian hand-maiden-such as he had seen many years
before in illustrations of learned books. When she stood near him, he
noticed nothing but the blackness of her hair or the whiteness of her
cheeks; and then he thought she looked somehow wild and fantastic,
like a person that one can see only in dreams. But whether she was
near him or at a little distance, so long as she remained in sight, he
was unintermittently conscious that the essential charm that she shed
forth could be traced directly to her youth.
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