lain. I wonder if Whitcrow once was White Crow,
auntie? Do you think so? I'd like to see the house they go to school
at--at least to lessons to. Can we drive that way some day?'

She was in a little flutter of interest and excitement. Mrs. Caryll
looked at her with a smile.

'What funny creatures children are,' she thought to herself. 'A moment
ago Rosamond was quite melancholy and depressed, as if the boys had
really overwhelmed her, and now she is as bright as anything about them
again.'

'Certainly, dear,' she said, her own spirits rising, 'I can show you Mr.
Pierce's vicarage any day. What were you asking about Whitcrow? I don't
think it ever struck me before that it may have come from White Crow.
But a _white crow_, Rosamond, that would be a funny thing!'

'Yes,' said the little girl, laughing, 'when we always say "as black as
a crow." But-- I think I _have_ heard of a white crow--or was it perhaps
in a fairy story? I can't think.'

'We must ask Uncle Ted,' said her aunt. 'He knows all about curious
things like that--all about wild birds and country things. But why do
you say when they go to their lessons on rainy days? They go every
day.'

'Oh yes, of course,' Rosamond replied. 'But it's only on rainy days they
go by the road,' and she explained to her aunt the different plans that
Justin had explained to her.

'That is new since my time,' said Mrs. Caryll. 'They used to drive to
Whitcrow every morning and walk back if it was fine--and on rainy days
the pony-cart was put up at the rectory. On fine days the stable boy
went with them and brought it back. I used very often to go to meet them
in the afternoons across the moor.'

'Oh then,' said Rosamond eagerly, 'you know the cottage where Bob Crag
lives and the queer old woman. I do so want to see her. Will you take me
there some day?'

Her aunt hesitated.

'What have they been telling you about Bob and his grandmother?' she
asked.

'Oh, only just about how queer they are, and that people aren't very
kind to them, because they don't know where they come from and things
like that, and I was wondering-- I couldn't help wondering'--the little
girl went on in a somewhat awe-struck tone of voice--'if perhaps the
old woman is a sort of a witch. I've never seen a witch, but I've read
about them in fairy stories.'

'And is that why you so much want to go to see old Mrs. Crag,' said her
aunt, half laughing.

'I don't quite know,' said Rosamond. 'Yes, I think