dead. He had been found dead in that
corner of the garden where he was
accustomed to stare into the mould. He had
been carried into the house by the two
poor old sisters, where he now lay waiting
for the undertaker.

"How terribly lonely and wretched they
must be," thought little Witch, with a sigh
from the very bottom of her pitiful heart.
And then the strangest idea came into her
mind, and she shivered and crept a little
nearer to the fire. But the idea remained,
and its presence in her mind made her
start whenever Barbara looked at her. It
would not go away, and when the sisters
were all in bed, and she had slacked the
kitchen fire, she sat down upon the stairs
with her candle in her hand, and thought
about the two miserable old women sitting
lonely with their dead. And the fantastic
picture which had been hovering before
her eyes all the evening was there now
more plainly than ever. It was a picture
of herself, Witch, knocking at the hall door
of the next house, walking down an
unknown hall and up a strange staircase, and
sitting in a dreary death-room between
those frightful old ladies. It was a horrible
picture, Witch thought, yet fascinating, for
her heart was bleeding for the sufferers.

At last she went to bed, but it was
useless her trying to sleep, and after half
an hour she got up. " What on earth will
Barbara say?" she said, shivering as she
dressed herself. She wrapped her cloak
around her, and took the latch key. Very
soon she had closed her own door softly,
and was standing trembling before the next.

"Dump! dump!" said the muffled
knocker; but Witch's heart seemed to
make more noise.

It seemed almost a year before there was
any response to that timid appeal of Witch.
At last a dismal ray appeared glimmering
down the darkness of the staircase. A
chain and many bolts were withdrawn, and
Witch stood face to face with Miss Tabitha.

"From the undertakers?" asked Miss
Tabitha, scowling forth.

"No," said little Witch, timidly.

"Who then?" said Miss Tabitha, a note
of alarm in her gruff voice.

"I am only the little girl from next
door," said Witch; "and please, madam, I
thought you might like some one to be
useful, to sit up at night, or to make a cup
of tea, or—or anything like that—-"
stammered trembling Witch.

"No!" shrieked Miss Tabitha, growing
larger and more dreadful with horror,
"nothing like that do we want. Nothing
in the least like that. Go off—at once—or
I shall call the police!" Her eyes glared,
she extended her arms before the door to
keep Witch out. Suddenly she slammed
the door in her face, and refastened all the
chains and bars.

"What has happened?" asked Miss
Seraphina, coming down-stairs with red
rings round her withered eyes.

"Thieves!" groaned Miss Tabitha, who
was rolling herself against the wall in a
convulsion of fear.

"What?" shrieked Seraphina, "a gang
of robbers?"

"Worse!" said Tabitha. "We shall be
torn to pieces. They will leave us without
a farthing to bury us!"

"Will they beat in the door?" said
Seraphina, shuddering.

"She might do anything after daring to
knock and ask for admittance," growled
Tabitha; " but she will be more likely to
take cunning means, steal over the garden
wall, or come down the chimney."

"She! – who?" asked Miss Seraphina.

"Who! why the girl from the next
house," barked Tabitha.

"The little girl with the kerchief!"
murmured Miss Seraphina, and a dazzling,
dancing, beautiful vision came suddenly
hovering before her aching, half-blind eyes.

"Coming to make tea for us " groaned
Tabitha. "Who told her that we could
afford to drink tea? She will break in yet,
and eat us out of house and home. Poor
old creatures who live in daily danger of
starvation! And we shall be left without
a farthing. I will go and I will watch; I
will not leave the spot. There, you guard
the hall door while I watch in the garden.
They shall not make us paupers. They
shall not—-"

She had now groped her way to the back
door. She was outside among the dank
weeds and grass in the garden. The moon
had risen, warm, and yellow, and round,
above some ragged gables, and a lank, evil-
looking tree, was slowly waving a stealthy
arm. Here was a dark creeping body
moving upon the wall against the sky. This
must certainly be a robber climbing the
wall. Miss Tabitha threw up her arms,
tottered, gasped, and dropped down in a fit.

But little Witch had crept back to her
bed, and, having done what she could, was
now fast asleep.

When the undertaker arrived at the
misers' dwelling he was asked to provide
two coffins. Forlorn Miss Seraphina sat
by her dead, the last of three who had
clung together here for forty years in