We went -- and straightway drank of the waters of forgetfulness . In a brief space we were laughing right merrily , no longer remembering our wrongs at the hands of those cruel grown-ups . Our laughter echoed back from the barns and the spruce grove , as if elfin denizens of upper air were sharing in our mirth . Presently , also , the laughter of the grown-ups mingled with ours . Aunt Olivia and Uncle Roger , Aunt Janet and Uncle Alec , came strolling through the orchard and joined our circle , as they sometimes did when the toil of the day was over , and the magic time ` twixt light and dark brought truce of care and labour . 'T was then we liked our grown-ups best , for then they seemed half children again . Uncle Roger and Uncle Alec lolled in the grass like boys ; Aunt Olivia , looking more like a pansy than ever in the prettiest dress of pale purple print , with a knot of yellow ribbon at her throat , sat with her arm about Cecily and smiled on us all ; and Aunt Janet 's motherly face lost its every-day look of anxious care . The Story Girl was in great fettle that night . Never had her tales sparkled with such wit and archness . `` Sara Stanley , '' said Aunt Olivia , shaking her finger at her after a side-splitting yarn , `` if you do n't watch out you 'll be famous some day . '' `` These funny stories are all right , '' said Uncle Roger , `` but for real enjoyment give me something with a creep in it . Sara , tell us that story of the Serpent Woman I heard you tell one day last summer . '' The Story Girl began it glibly . But before she had gone far with it , I , who was sitting beside her , felt an unaccountable repulsion creeping over me . For the first time since I had known her I wanted to draw away from the Story Girl . Looking around on the faces of the group , I saw that they all shared my feeling . Cecily had put her hands over her eyes . Peter was staring at the Story Girl with a fascinated , horror-strickened gaze . Aunt Olivia was pale and troubled . All looked as if they were held prisoners in the bonds of a fearsome spell which they would gladly break but could not .
It was not our Story Girl who sat there , telling that weird tale XXXXX a sibilant , curdling voice .
after before from in of over that through to with