"Do I get my wish?"
She sat motionless on her perch for a moment, consulting her oracle. Then
she suddenly lifted her wings and flapped violently.
"Is that the best answer you can give?" Nick reproached her.
The owl repeated the gesture.
"I guess you want something she doesn't approve of," said the Grapevine
man.
"She might give me a civil 'yes' or 'no.' See here, you Witch of
Endor--_do_ I get my wish?"
The owl closed her eyes, then opened them with a sudden flash of gold, but
would neither nod nor shake her head.
"She knows, but she won't tell," said her master. "Maybe she doesn't want
to upset your feelings."
"She can't scare me with her mysteries," Nick laughed. "I'm going right
ahead on the same lines." Then he said good-bye to his friend and went out
to his motor. But there was enough of the boy in him to be disappointed
because the white witch had refused an answer.
The car had a proud way of dismissing the landscape impatiently, if given
her head; but as her new owner was not out to show what he could do, she
was compelled to crawl when she would have flown, like Pegasus harnessed
to the plough.
To-day, the task of subduing herself was not so painful as usual, for the
blue car went on mile after mile, through the far-stretching orange
groves, without a stop; and Nick enjoyed driving.
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