. Two days ago Susannah had told them of an
old woman living at Market Jew who had mixed a pot of green ointment and
touched her eyes with it, and ever afterwards seen the fairies. At once
Myra, who was naught if not practical, had secreted Susannah's jar of cold
cream (kept to preserve the children's skin from freckles) and a phial of
angelica-water from the store-closet, had stirred these into a beautiful
green paste, and had anointed her own eyes and Clem's with it, using
incantations--

"Christ walked a little, a little
Before the sun did rise;
Christ mixed clay with spittle,
And cured a blind man's eyes;
This man, and that man,
And likewise Bartimee--
What Christ did for these poor men
I hope He'll do for me."

The charm, however, had not worked. Perhaps it needed time to operate,
and the children had despaired too soon.

"Why didn't you come to me at once?" demanded Clem.

"I didn't dare." Myra trembled now, on the verge of putting her hopes to
the touch. Though these were but pisky-lights, what bliss if Clem should
behold them! "Besides, I saw a light across the yard in Archelaus Libby's
garret. I believe he is awake there, with his telescope, and _he_ can't
have tried the ointment. You won't be terribly disappointed, dear, if--"

He slid out of bed and took her hand.

He was a brave boy; and when she led him to her window and he saw nothing,
his first thought was for her disappointment, to soothe it as well as he
might.

"Tell me about it," he whispered, nestling down on the window-seat and
drawing her head close to his shoulder; for after the pause that destroyed
hope she had broken down, her body shaking with muffled sobs, woeful to
feel and to hear. Outside, the Northern Lights--the 'merry-dancers'--yet
flickered over the snowy roof-ridges and the snowy uplands beyond.

"I am going to dress," she announced, as the gust of sobbing spent itself.
"If Archelaus Libby is awake, he will tell us what it means."

"Take me with you."

Though prepared to go alone, she had hoped he would ask this, being--to
confess the truth--more than half afraid of the dark landing and passages
below. The two dressed themselves and crept downstairs. In the hall,
remembering their former expedition, Myra felt the bolt of the front door
cautiously; but this time it was shut. They stole down the side-passage
to the kitchen, where a fire burned all night in the gr