in the misers' household. And when
Seraphina saw the bountiful little spirit making
itself so busy for her comfort, she wept
enough of tears to wash all the dryness out
of her withered life. And when a savoury
meal was set before her she ate it with
great appetite, moaning all the time, and
wondering that a judgment did not descend
upon her greediness.

Witch remained all night, bearing the
poor neighbour company, and early in the
morning returned to her home and her
household work. A scanty procession
carried the two dead misers to the grave. And
after this was over, and the evening had
come round again, Witch went boldly up to
Barbara, saying she wished to spend an hour
with the lonely lady next door.

"You are a strange creature!" said
Barbara; but she did not prevent her
going. So Witch went and came, and
Seraphina grew more human every day.

"My dear," she said once, "I am afraid
of this house except when you are in it.
But I dare not leave it, because of
something that is in the garden. It is a curse
which is upon me, and which I am obliged
to bear." And then she drooped her poor
face and groaned.

At other times she cried aloud, "Oh, I
have such a secret, such a terrible secret!
How could they go and leave me with it!"

And more than once Witch got a fit of
frightened wonder about the secret. Could
it be that a creature had been murdered,
and was buried in the garden? But this
idea was too dreadful to be harboured.

One bright autumn evening there came
a whim into Witch's head, a whim for the
amusement of Seraphina. She had just
finished a very radiant little picture, and
she had got some brilliant wild flowers
which Barry had plucked for her in the
wood that morning. She made a little
nosegay, and she took the picture under
her arm, and put the paroquet kerchief in
her pocket. Here were three treasures
which she had brought for Seraphina's
amusement. She first presented her flowers
to the delighted old woman, who snuffed
them eagerly, holding them off, holding
them near, and trembling all the time.

"Time was when I gathered flowers,"
quavered she.

Then Witch exhibited her picture. It
was a group of young girls sitting on a
mossy wall, with an orchard in fall bloom
behind them. At this sight the old woman
most strangely began to weep.

"It is my old home," she said; " my
home of long ago. And there am I, and
there are my sisters. Ah, before the money
arrived from India. There is Margaret's fair
face, as I live; and, my dear, Tabitha and I
were not then so ugly as we afterwards
became. There was a little green lane at
the other side of that wall, and people used
to go up and down on summer evenings.
My child, you have brought me a picture
of my youth, and it is only cruelty now."

Little Witch stood aghast. She had
composed this picture from a tender
description given by Barry's mother of the
home of her childhood. And wonderingly
she remembered that Margaret was that
poor mother's name. She had painted that
sweet face pointed out by Seraphina from
her fancy of what that blind mother must
have been in her youth. Now here was a
curious coincidence. And it seemed that
she had brought trouble instead of pleasure.
But she remembered the kerchief, and
triumphantly pulled it from her pocket.

"See," she said, flinging it over her
shoulders; "does it not shine splendidly?
Ah, if you could but see it in the sun!"

Seraphina screamed, and laid hold of
Witch's skirts.

"Then I was not deceived when I saw
you with it before from the window," she
said. "Oh, it is the paroquet, the paroquet!"
feeling it all over. "Girl, where
did you get this thing?"

"I got it from Barry," said Witch, now
truly in dismay.

"Who is Barry?" gasped Seraphina.

"His mother and he are my dearest
friends," said Witch. "He wove this for
me on his loom."

"No; he must have stolen it!" said
Seraphina, in great excitement. "There
was only one kerchief like this in the world.
With a wonderful story. Oh, such a
wonderful story"

"I know the story," said Witch, nodding.

"You know the story?" shrieked
Seraphina.

"Yes," said Witch, "about the bird and
the Sultana. But this is not that one.
This is copied from it. Barry's mother
has the original and would not part with
it for the world."

"Where did she get it?" moaned Seraphina.
"Oh, where did she get it? The
bird and the Sultana. Yes, that was part
of the story. But the rest of it, do you
know the rest of it?"

"No," said Witch; but she remembered
that there had been a sequel to the blind
mother's story.