family had been living in number two ever
since the street had been built, and judging
by the aspect of the place, without even
consulting the almost obliterated date upon
the gable, this was a long time ago. So
long ago, indeed, that the above-mentioned
popular faith cast a lurid gleam of ghostliness
over the existence of these Scarecrows.
The family consisted of Tabitha
and Seraphina, and the brother, who was,
if possible, older than the sisters. Upon
the parchment visages of all three Time
had scribbled such innumerable
hieroglyphics that it had become impossible to
decipher what any of them meant. They
were all three ugly to look upon, with
features that reminded one of ancient
wooden idols, so hacked and notched, and
dinged were they by a curious co-operation
of years and Nature. In figure they reminded
one of the besom which was ordered
to stand forth upon two legs surmounted
by a head.

The two ladies frightened Witch and
her sisters when they passed by the
windows to take an airing. They wore short
black gowns, and their elbows were pinioned
to their sides under their scanty shawls.
Their bonnets were huge black things that
fluttered dreadfully as the heads shook
under them, making them nod like the
plumes on a hearse. When they walked,
they threw their feet about as if those
members had been loose at the ankles.
When an echo of their conversation could
be heard, things became worse; for Miss
Tabitha had a gruff guttural voice, while
Miss Seraphina spoke in shrill tones like
the rasping of a file upon wires. As for the
old gentleman, he was seldom seen, except
walking up and down the waste garden at
the back of the house, cleaning a bunch of
keys, and stopping often to gaze down on
one spot of the earth, in a corner. Into
this mould he would stare for hours at a
time, as if some precious seed were buried
there, and he watched so earnestly, so
patiently, for the first green speck that
should tell him it had not rotted into
nothingness in its grave. Thus much was
seen of the Scarecrow family by the outer
world. A charwoman, who had been in and
out, told how the two old women uncovered
their scraggy shoulders, like the finest
ladies in the land, before they sat down to
their dinner of dry crusts and scraps of
mouldy cheese. Also of how the morsels
of coal were counted as they were dropped
into the kitchen grate, and how the sisters
sat, each with her feet upon a cat for
warmth; said cats living exclusively upon
mice, with chance bones from a neighbour's
larder.

Now, Witch, the offensive neighbour,
was a seventh daughter; and so it was no
wonder that there was something unusual
about her. She looked like a changeling
among her six sisters, who were all very
tall and slim, with long throats and noses,
pale eyes and mouths, and very light hair,
which they dressed in the fashion, and
which occupied most of their time. When
they all swooped into a room, it was like
the perching and pluming of a flight of
storks. Little Witch was quite swallowed
up in the crowd that they made, and when
one did catch a glimpse of her she looked,
as I have said, like a changeling, so different
was she from the rest. It was not that
Witch was so little, but that the sisters
were so big. She scarcely reached up
to their shoulders. And then her eyes
were brown, each carrying a spark of fire,
though shaded about by many dark touches
under the brows. Her lips made a deep
red against her white teeth, and her
cheeks were almost always dimpled, for
she had a habit of smiling. There was
nothing magnificent about her nose, and
her hair twined back from her face and
hung in a mass on her shoulders. Her
head was subject to fits of cold bathing,
and was often seen to go shaking itself
merrily like a water dog, to the dismay of
the sisters, who frizzed their locks with
hot irons:  a process utterly ruined by
damp. She did not possess one feature or
attribute of the family. She was short,
where the sisters were long; round, where
the sisters were square; red, where the
sisters were pale, and pale where the
sisters were red. But then the sisters
were, all six, fine women, and Witch was
only a comely little girl. As for her name,
that came of her being so quick-witted;
for when she hit upon things that they
never could have thought of, the sisters
would nod their fair heads, and say, "She
is a perfect witch!" And so "witch"
came to be a household word.

The household consisted of Witch and
the sisters. These seven had neither
father, mother, brother, nor servant. The
eldest of all was old enough to be a mother
to the rest, but she had no taste for being
a mother; and so the duty devolved upon
little Witch; for, next to the eldest, the
youngest is the most important member of
a family. Witch was mother and servant
too. She wheedled the butcher, bargained