Not a show had arrived, not a strange dog, no romantic figures were wandering the streets in search of lodgings, no stands had sprung up in the square.
You could pass hours in pretending to fear that when the morning came there would be no fairyland.

And all the time you _knew_.
About ten o'clock Ballingall's cat was observed washing its face, a deliberate attempt to bring on rain.

It was immediately put to death.
Tommy and Elspeth had agreed to lie awake all night; if Tommy nipped Elspeth, Elspeth would nip Tommy.

Other children had made the same arrangement, though the experienced ones were aware that it would fail.
If it was true that all the witches were dead, then the streets of stands and shows and gaming-tables and shooting-galleries were erected by human hands, and it followed that were you to listen through the night you must hear the hammers.

But always in the watches the god of the Muckley came unseen and glued your eyes, as if with Teuch and Tasty, and while you slept--Up you woke with a start.