ecause she is very sad."

"Why?" inquired Ambrose, ruffling up his hair with one hand, as he
always did when he was getting interested.

Pennie paused a moment that her next remark might have full weight; then
very impressively and slowly she said:

"She has not _always_ been a Goblin Lady."

This was so unexpected, and suggested so much to be unfolded, that the
children gazed speechless at Pennie, who presently continued:

"Once she was a beautiful--"

"Is she ugly now?" hastily inquired David.

"Don't, Davie; let Pennie go on," said Ambrose.

"I want to know just one thing," put in Nancy; "if it's dark when she
comes, how does she see to read the music?"

"She carries glowworms with her," answered Pennie; "they shine just like
the lamps in father's gig at night, and light up all the garret."

"Now, go on, Pennie," said Ambrose with a deep sigh, for these
interruptions were very trying to him. "Once she was a beautiful--"

"A most beautiful lady, with long golden hair. Only she was very very
proud and vain. So after she died she could not rest, but has to go
flying about wherever the wind will take her. The only pleasure she has
is music, and so she always tries to get in where there is anything to
play. That is why she goes so often to the garret and plays the harp."

"Why doesn't she go into the drawing-room and play the piano?" asked
Nancy bluntly. Nancy's questions were often very tiresome; she never
allowed the least haze or uncertainty to hang over any subject, and
Pennie was frequently checked in the full flow of her eloquence by the
consciousness that Nancy's eye was upon her, and that she was preparing
to put some matter-of-fact inquiry which it would be most difficult to
meet.

"There you go, interrupting again," muttered Ambrose.

"Well, but why doesn't she?" insisted Nancy, "it would be so much
easier."

"Why, of course she can't," resumed Pennie in rather an injured voice,
"because of the lights, and the people, and, besides, she never learnt
to play the piano."

"I wish I needn't either," sighed Nancy. "How nice to be like the
Goblin Lady, and only play the harp when one likes!"

"I should like to see her," said Ambrose thoughtfully.

"You'd be afraid," said Nancy; "why, you wouldn't even go into the
garret by daylight alone."

"That was a long time ago," said Ambrose quickly. "I wouldn't mind it
now."

"In the dark?"

"Well, I don't believe you'd go," said Nancy. "You