"I shall have to speak to Timmy," she exclaimed.

"He's much too given to threatening the village people with ill fortune if they have done anything he thinks wrong or unkind.

The child was awfully upset the other day because he discovered that the Tenchers had drowned a half-grown kitten." "He's a queer little chap," observed the old doctor, "a broth of a boy, if ye'll allow me to say so--I'd be proud of Timmy if I were his mother, Mrs.Toss!" "Perhaps I _am_ proud of him," she said smiling, "but still I always tell John he's a changeling child--so absurdly unlike all the others." "Ah, but that's where _you_ come in, me good friend.

'Twas a witch you must have had among ye're ancestresses in the long ago." He gripped her hand, and went out to his two-seater, his mind still full of his friend's strange little son.
Then all at once--he could not have told you why--Dr.O'Farrell's mind switched off to something very different, and he went back into the hall again.
"A word more with ye, Mrs.Tosswill.What sort of a lady has taken The Trellis House, eh?
We don't even know her name." "She's a Mrs.Crofton--oddly enough, a friend or acquaintance of Godfrey Radmore.

He seems to have first met her during the war, when he was quartered in Egypt.