on of witches given by
the fairy-tale tellers of his earliest youth. She had the traditional
hook-nose and peaked chin, the glittering eyes, the thousand wrinkles
and the toothless gums. He looked about for the raven and the cat, but
if she had them, they were not in evidence. At a rough guess, he
calculated her age at one hundred years. A youth of extreme laziness,
who Baron Dangloss said was the old woman's grandson, appeared to be her
man-of-all-work. He fetched the old woman's crystal, placed stools for
the visitors, lighted the candles on the table, occupying no less than a
quarter of an hour in performing these simple acts, so awkward that at
least two of his observers giggled openly and whispered their opinions.

"Gruesome lady, isn't she?" whispered King.

"I shall dream of her for months," whispered the lady in grey,
shuddering.

"Are you willing to have her read your future in that ball?"

"Do you really think she can tell?"

"I once had a fortune-teller say that I would be married before I was
twenty-three," he informed her. She appeared interested.

"And were you?"

"No. But she did her part, you know--the fortune-teller, I mean."

"She warned you. I see. So it really wasn't her fault." She was watching
the preparations at the table with eager eyes, her lips parted and her
breath coming quick through excitement.

"Would you mind telling me how I am to address you?" whispered King.
They were leaning against the mud-plastered wall near the little window,
side by side. The whimsical smile that every one loved to see was on his
lips, in his eyes. "You see, I'm a stranger in a strange land. That
accounts for my ignorance."

"You must not speak while she is gazing into the crystal," she warned,
after a quick, searching glance at his face. He could have sworn that he
saw a gleam of concern in her eyes, followed instantly by a twinkle that
meant mischief.

"Please consider my plight," he implored. "I can't call you Aunt
Loraine, you know."

She laughed silently and turned her head to devote her entire attention
to the scene at the table. Truxton King was in a sudden state of
trepidation. Had he offended her? There was a hot rush of blood to his
ears. He missed the sly, wondering glance that she gave him out of the
corner of her eye a moment later.

Although it was broad daylight, the low, stuffy room would have been
pitch dark had it not been for the flickering candles on the table
beside the bent,