one morning you weren't
with us. He ran after us to say that these ones were sold too. And he
had heard of some other place farther off. I don't believe we'll ever
get any.'

'Is that the boy whose old grandmother lives in the queer hut on the
moor?' asked Rosamond eagerly. 'I remember the first time I came here
you said you'd take me to see it some day. Can't we go that way now?'

'We _are_ going that way,' said Justin. 'You're sure you won't be
frightened of the old granny? For if you were, Aunt Mattie wouldn't let
you come with us again.'

Rosamond opened her eyes very wide.

'Frightened of her,' she repeated. 'Why should I be? Isn't she a kind
old woman?'

'Yes,' said Pat, 'but she's very queer. If you don't like her, you need
never come back to see her again.'

'And in that case you needn't say anything about it to Aunt Mattie,'
added Justin.

'But _of course_ I won't be frightened,' said Rosamond, a little
indignantly. 'I've never been easily frightened. Even when I was only
two, mamma said I laughed at the niggers singing and dancing at the
seaside. Aunt Mattie would think me very silly if I were frightened.'

'She'd be more vexed with us than with you,' said Justin. 'I think on
the whole you needn't say anything about the Crags to her. You see you
don't quite understand being with boys. _We_ don't go in and tell every
little tiny thing we've done. Miss Ward would be sure to find fault with
_something_. And _we_ hate tell-taleing; girls don't think of it the
same way.'

'_I_ do,' said Rosamond, flushing a little. 'If you think I'd be a
tell-tale I'd rather not go with you.'

'Oh nonsense,' said Archie. 'I'm sure Jus can't think that. Anybody can
see you're not that sort of a girl.'

All these remarks put the little girl on her mettle, and, besides this,
she was most anxious to gain the good opinion of the two elder boys
and to get on happily with them as her aunt had so much wished. Nor was
she by nature in the least a cowardly child.

[Illustration: NANCE.]

Still when they reached the little cottage on the moor, and she caught
sight of Nance standing in the doorway as if looking out for them, she
could not help giving a tiny start, for no doubt the old woman _was_ a
very strange-looking person.

'She really does look like one of the witches in my picture fairy-book,'
thought Rosamond.

But with the first words that fell from Nance's lips, the slight touch
of fear faded away. There was somet