rubbing his chin.

"We will go to her."

They found Corona at the window of the boudoir. As the door opened
she turned, ran to Brother Copas, and clung to him.

"Take me home! Oh, please take me home!"

"Hey?" Brother Copas soothed her, patting the back of her head.
"Why, what is the matter, little maid? Who has been frightening
you?"

"She turns them all into canaries--I know she does!" the child
asserted, still shaking pitiably, but facing Miss Dickinson with
accusation in her eyes. "You can tell it by her nose and chin.
I--I thought you had gone away and left me with her."

"You did not tell me she was hysterical," said Miss Dickinson.

"It's news to me, ma'am. I'd best get her out into the fresh air at
once."

Without waiting for permission, he swept Corona out into the passage,
and forth into the street. It is a question which felt the happier
when they gained it, and stood drawing long breaths; but, of course,
Brother Copas had to put on a severe face.

"All very well, little maid!"

"Oh, I know you're disappointed with me," gasped Corona. "I'm
disappointed with myself. But it was all just like _Jorinda and
Jorindel_; and if she's not a witch, and doesn't turn them into
canaries, why does she keep all those cages?" She halted suddenly.
"I hate to be a coward," she said. "If you'll come with me, Uncle
Copas, I'll start back right here, and we'll go in and rescue them.
It was the waiting I couldn't stand."

"Canaries?" Brother Copas stood and looked down on her.
Some apprehension of the absurd fancy broke on him, and he chuckled.
"Now you come to mention it, I dare say she _does_ turn 'em into
canaries."

"Then we ought to go straight back and set them free," insisted
Corona. "If only we had the magic flower!"

"I think I know who has it. . . . Yes, you may take it from me,
little one, that there's someone charged to put an end to Miss
Dickinson's enchantments, and we may safely leave it to him."

"Who is he?"

"The deliverer's name is County Council. . . . But look here, child--
if you make a fuss like this whenever I try to find a school for
you--"

"I won't make a fuss. And I _do_ want to go to school," interrupted
Corona. "I want to go to the Greycoats."

"The Greycoats?" This was an ancient foundation in the city, in
origin a charity-school, but now distinguished from the ordinary
Elementary Schools in that its pupils paid twopence a week, and wore
a grey uniform provid