e gettin' down to cases. We're here official.
The first selectman of this town is here. Go ahead, Cap'n Sproul,
and put your questions."

"Ask 'em yourself," snorted the Cap'n, with just a flicker of
resentful malice; "you're the witch expert. I ain't."

"Well," retorted Hiram, with an alacrity that showed considerable
zest for the business in hand, "I never shirked duty. First, what's
her name again--the woman that's doin' it all?"

"I want you to come and see--" began Mr. Gammon, apparently having
his own ideas as to a witch-hunt, but Hiram shook the big cigar at
him fiercely.

"We ain't got time nor inclination for inspectin' coffin-plates,
wax-flowers, bewitched iron kittles, balky horses, and old ganders.
Who is this woman and where does she live, and what's the matter with
her?"

"She's Arizima Orff, and that's her house over the rise of that land
where you can see the chimblys." Mr. Gammon was perfunctory in that
reply, but immediately his little blue eyes began to sparkle and he
launched out into his troubles. "There's them that don't believe in
witches. I know that! And they slur me and slander me. I know it.
I don't get no sympathy. I--"

"Shut up!" commanded the chief of the inquisition.

"They say I'm crazy. But I know better. Here I am with rheumaticks!
Don't you s'pose I know where I got 'em? It was by standin' out all
het up where she had hitched me after she'd rid' me to one of the
witch conventions. She--"

"Say, you look here!" roared the old showman; "you stay on earth.
Don't you try to fly and take us with you. There's the principal
trouble in gettin' at facts," he explained, whirling on the Cap'n.
"Investigators don't get down to cases. Talk with a stutterer, and
if you don't look sharp you'll get to stutterin' yourself. Now, if
we don't look out, Gammon here will have us believin' in witches
before we've investigated."

"You been sayin' right along that you did believe in 'em," grunted
the first selectman.

"Northin' of the sort!" declared Hiram. "I was only showin' you that
when you rose up and hollered that there never was any witches you
didn't know what you were talkin' about."

While Cap'n Sproul was still blinking at him, trying to comprehend
the exact status of Hiram's belief, that forceful inquisitor, who
had been holding his victim in check with upraised and admonitory
digit, resumed:

"Old maid or widder?"

"Widder."

"Did deceased leave her that farm, title clear, an