, soothing the frightened animal as best she could.
Presently she thought she saw an opening in the trees. Drawing closer she
was overjoyed to find that there really was a path through the wood.
Turning into it she followed it for some distance, finally coming to an
open glade where stood what looked to be an ancient inn.
One wing had fallen into decay. The rose covered trellis of the porch lay
rotting on the ground. All about the building hung an air of dilapidation
and decay that forbade the thought of cheer. One part of the tumbled down
structure looked as though it might serve as a shelter, and the girl
hastened to the door of this portion and knocked.
There was no response, and Francis rapped again; this time more loudly
than before, resolving to force the door should there be no answer. She
waited a few moments, and then there came a high shrill voice from behind
the closed door.
"Who's there?"
"One who desires shelter from the storm. Open, i' God's name!"
"And who be ye that seek shelter of Dame Margery? Know you not that men
call me the white witch?"
"I care not," exclaimed Francis impatiently. "Open, woman, else I will
force the door."
There was a muttering of protest, then the bolts were drawn, and the door
opened. A woman stood in the aperture. A woman, old and bent, and looking
not unlike the witch she called herself. A hood of brown sat on her white
hair; a brown lappet was thrown about her, and she supported herself by
means of a staff. Her black eyes regarded the girl with keenness from
under her shaggy brows.
"Now thou art brave, forsooth, who dares take shelter here," she said.
"There are those, and they are many, who would brave the fiercest storm
rather than risk Dame Margery's evil eye."
"But not I," said Francis boldly. Nevertheless she made the sign of the
cross, for the age was a superstitious one and the belief in witches and
witchcraft well nigh universal. "Good dame, tell me, I pray, where I may
put my horse. Give us both shelter, and thou shall have this angel for
thy guerdon."
She held the gold piece out as she spoke. The woman's fingers closed over
it eagerly.
"Back of the house are the stables," she said a trifle more civilly.
"There will ye find food for the beast as well as cover. But thou wilt
have to be thine own groom, young sir. These old bones be racked with
rheums."
"I thank you," answered Francis briefly. Following the direction
indicated by the beldam
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