Into one crock was poured fresh water, into another soapy water,
and the third was empty. Posy, among the rest, was blindfolded, and led
up to the table. She was instructed to dip her fingers into one of the
crocks. She felt around, and at last dipped into the one that held the
soapy water: she was told that she would marry a widower. Miss Clara
dipped into clear water, and would marry a bachelor. One of the other
girls put her fingers into the empty crock, and would die an old maid.

By this time it was nearly midnight--time for the fairy folk as well as
children to be in bed. But Miss Clara first went up stairs to an empty
room, and holding a candle in one hand, ate an apple before the
looking-glass. Captain Strickland (slender and tall) crept softly up
stairs after her, and as she ate her last mouthful, she saw his face
over her shoulder. She dropped her candle, with a scream, and they came
quietly down after a while in the dark together.

Miss Clara's elder sister had meantime gone out into the flower garden,
taking with her a ball of blue yarn. This she flung from her as far as
possible, keeping hold, however, of one end, and dragging it after her.
As she went back to the house she sang,

"Who holds my thread? who holds my clew?
For he loves me, and I him, too."

Suddenly the ball of yarn refused to follow her. She jerked at it in
vain. She dared not let her clew break, because if she should lose the
lover supposed to be holding its other end, she would die unmarried.
"Let me see you! let me see you!" she cried, eagerly, and a figure drew
near her in the darkness. An arm covered with dark cloth was almost
round her. She drew away with a scream, and began to run, pursued by
Bob, the young American, who had stolen away from the other guests to
follow her, and whose appearance produced much laughter; for Bob was
twelve, and she was seven-and-twenty.

The children had not cared much for these last two tests. They had been
popping nuts and eating apples. They were now called to supper. There
was at the end of a long table a great tureen of soured oatmeal
porridge. The master of the house, who was of Scotch descent, called it
"sowens," and declared that every one present must eat some with butter
and salt if he desired to have luck till next All-hallow Eve. There were
other good things on the table, however, much better, Posy thought, than
sour porridge. And when supper was over the children went off to bed,
so