too little to eat, and you get sick fancies.
You are a poet in your own tongue, and if
you had been born a negro you would have
made poetry out of broken English. The
whole world will get up in a mass and tell
you about it one day."

The boy grasped both her hands, and
trembled with delight. " How beautiful it
is to be believed in!" he said.

Then Witch spread her brilliant kerchief
over her shoulders to divert Barry from his
sad thoughts, and danced about softly in
the sun, so as to make the colours burn,
and the gold threads glitter. Her drawing
was finished, and perhaps she should get
seven shillings for it to-day. So there was
gaiety of heart, as well as leisure for a
dance. Witch's eyes were radiant above the
red and purple and gold on her bosom, and
her long dark tresses rose and fell with the
motion of her figure, half shrouding the
dazzling garment. She and the sun danced
together among the trees.

"You are a living poem, indeed!" said
Barry, rushing to follow her. But Witch
waved him softly backwards with her pretty
brown hands, singing mock incantations to
the wood sprites all the time: then suddenly
linked her arm in his, and these two children
went flying down the chequered slope of
the wood, through the light, through the
shade, snatching at the branches, and
balancing one another, till they arrived at
the bottom, laughing and breathless.

Witch did not show her kerchief to the
sisters. If it had been anything they could
wear to make them smart going to church,
or for a walk, she would have held herself
to be selfish in possessing it. But as well
might one wear a macaw in one's bonnet
as display such a kerchief in the street. It
was too precious and wonderful, and
redolent of poetry to be handled and coveted,
and turned to some foolish use. Witch
owned a little box with a key. And in it
she deposited her treasure.

But sometimes she took it out very early
of mornings, when she could not go to the
wood to see Barry, and gave it an airing up
and down the little ragged garden, just to
see the sun flashing on it, and to feel it
glittering on her bosom, as Barry's love
glittered on her life. Now it chanced one
morning that Miss Seraphina Scarecrow had
wakened very early, and had come down a
part of her staircase, wrapt in unsightly
gear, to take a stolen peep at the world
from her lobby window. Poor Miss
Seraphina had a half worn-out touch of
sentimentality in her composition. Starving,
and saving, and growing drearily ugly, had
not taken it from her. Only she was careful
to keep it out of sight of her sister and
brother. So sometimes of mornings she
came thus to the lobby window, pressing
her sad gnome-like face to the pane, and
gazing across one frowsy faded tree to
the light of the breaking dawn. Thus
doing she beheld Witch, a gay fluttering
little figure, dancing lightly and slowly
up and down the path with her brilliant
kerchief spread over her shoulders, and her
hair rising and falling and floating behind
her, while the sunlight picked wonderful
glories out of Barry's gilded web. Miss
Seraphina saw, and remained riveted where
she stood, gazing with distended eyes. She
tottered backward, and sat down feebly
upon the nearest step, while all her curl-
papers shook and rustled. By-and-by she
arose and went back to the window, but
dancing, dazzling Witch was gone. .

Seraphina climbed her flight of stairs,
and went into her sister's room.

"Tabitha!" she said.

Tabitha, waking, responded gruffly.

"Tabitha, the little girl next door has
got a paroquet kerchief."

"Nonsense!" ejaculated Miss Tabitha.

"But she has," moaned Seraphina. "I
have seen it on her shoulders. Green and
crimson, and purple and yellow. They are
all there, burning and glistening just as
they used."

"Some tenpenny plaid out of the nearest
shop," growled Tabitha.

''No, no," said Seraphina, "it burned
with gold. It is the paroquet."

"And what if it be?" said Tabitha.

"There is only one in the world," sobbed
Seraphina.

"You are an idiot!" said Tabitha, " Will
you try and get a little sense?  If you
don't begin soon it will be too late. There,
get away!  What an appetite you will have
for breakfast after being up at such an
hour!"  And snubbed Seraphina went back
to her bed, and lay staring at the pictures
in the damp on the ceiling. And her poor
heart ached.

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