it is partly. It's a
little frightening to think of, but frightening things are rather nice
too sometimes--in a sort of fancying way, I mean. For there aren't
really any witches now, are there, auntie?'

She was not quite sure of this all the same, for as she spoke, she crept
a little closer to Mrs. Caryll. It was beginning to get dusk, and the
part of the road along which they were then passing ran through a wood;
at all times it was rather gloomy just here.

'Real witches,' repeated her aunt; 'of course not, though I daresay Pat
could tell you stories by the dozen about them, and no doubt Bob's
grandmother is a curious old body. Long ago I daresay she would have
been called a witch. I don't think she is _quite_ right in her head, and
Bob is a wild, gipsy-like creature. I don't think their father and
mother care for the boys to see much of him, though both he and his
grandmother are devoted to them. Some day----' but before Mrs. Caryll
had time to say more, the sound of some one whistling in a peculiar
way, two or three notes almost like a bird call, made her stop short.

'Why, that must be your uncle,' she exclaimed, 'coming to meet us,' and
she whipped up the pony to make him go faster.

They were not far from home by this time, and when Uncle Ted, for he it
was, got into the pony-cart beside them, there was no more talk between
Aunt Mattie and her little niece.

'How are they all getting on at Moor Edge?' was the first thing he
asked.

'Oh--all right--at least well enough,' Mrs. Caryll replied, 'though I'm
not sorry that their father and mother are coming back to-morrow,' and
by something in her tone Uncle Ted understood that she was not quite
happy about her five nephews, but that she did not want to say any more
at present.

So he went on talking about other things--he had been away all
day--which did not interest Rosamond, and the little girl fell back into
her own thoughts, companions she was well accustomed to.

Aunt Mattie's house was quite a contrast to Moor Edge. It stood in the
midst of a small but pretty park. Everything about it was peaceful and
sheltered and charming. The flower gardens were the pride of the
neighbourhood. There was a great variety of rare shrubs and plants,
which could not have stood the keen blasts that blew over Moor Edge,
perched up as it was on high ground. The trees grew luxuriantly at
Caryll Place, and there was a little lake famed for the great variety of
water-birds w