'But what about the sacrament?' asked he.

'That was the time of the year it was. Oh, but I could tell you a sad,
sad story of the wickedness of witches. When Donald and me was young,
and had a farm up over on the other hill, well, there was a poor widow
with seven daughters. It was hard times then for us all, but for her,
she only had a bit of flat land with some bushes, and four cows and some
sheep, and, you see, she sold butter to put meat in the children's
mouths. Butter was all she could sell.

'Well, there came to live near her on the hill an awful wicked old man
and woman. I'll tell you who their daughter is: she's married to Mr.
M'Curdy, who keeps the store. The old man and his wife were awful wicked
to the widow and the fatherless. I'll tell you what they did. Well, the
widow's butter failed. Not one bit more could she get. The milk was just
the same, but not one bit of butter. "Oh," said she, "it's a hard world,
and me a widow!" But she was a brave woman, bound to get along some way.
So, now that she had nothing to sell to buy meal, she made curds of the
milk, and fed the children on that.

'Well, one day the old man came in to see her in a neighbouring way, and
she, being a good woman,--oh, but she was a good woman!--set a dish of
curds before him. "Oh," said he, "these are very fine curds!" So he went
away, and next day she put the rennet in the milk as usual, but not a
bit would the curd come. "Oh," said she, "but I must put something in
the children's mouths!" She was a fine woman, she was. So she kept the
lambs from the sheep all night, and next morning she milked the sheep.
Sheep's milk is rich, and she put rennet in that, and fed the children
on the curd.

'So one day the old man came in again. He was a wicked one; he was
dreadful selfish; and as he was there, she, being a hospitable woman,
gave him some of the curd. "That's good curd," said he. Next day, when
she put the rennet in the sheep's milk, not a bit would the curd come.
She felt it bitterly, poor woman; but she had a fine spirit, and she fed
the children on a few bits of potato she had growing.

'Well, one day, the eldest daughter got up very early to spin--in the
twilight of the dawn it was--and she looked out, and there was the old
woman coming from her house on the hill, with a shawl over her head and
a tub in her arms. Oh, but she was a really wicked one! for I'll tell
you what she did. Well, the girl watched and wondered, and in the