gure resumed its naturally
erect and commanding position. She usually wore a dress of dark gray
stuff, with immense pockets, a black silk neckerchief folded over her
shoulders, a white tamboured muslin cap, with a black ribbon passed two
or three times round the crown. To preserve the purity of the muslin,
and the lustre of the ribbon, she always wore a piece of white paper,
folded up between her head and the muslin, making the top of the cap
appear much more opaque than the rest.

The _worm-eaten traveler_! What an appalling, yet fascinating
communication! Helen waited in breathless impatience, watching the
movements of the Sibyl, with darkened pupils and heaving bosom.

At length when a sudden gust of wind blew a naked bough, with a sound
like the rattling of dry bones against the windows, and a falling brand
scattered a shower of red sparks over the hearth-stone, Miss Thusa,
waving the bony fingers of her right hand, thus began--

"Once there was a woman spinning by the kitchen fire, spinning away for
dear life, all living alone, without even a green-eyed cat to keep her
from being lonely. The coals were all burnt to cinders, and the shadows
were all rolled up in black bundles in the four corners of the room. The
woman went on spinning, singing as she spun--

'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
Oh! how happy should I be!'

There was a rustling noise in the chimney as if a great chimney-swallow
was tumbling down, and the woman stooped and looked up into the black
flue."

Here Miss Thusa bowed her tall form, and turned her beaked nose up
towards the glowing chimney. Helen, palpitating with excitement followed
her motions, expecting to see some horrible monster descend all grim
with soot.

"Down came a pair of broad, dusty, skeleton feet," continued Miss Thusa,
recoiling a few paces from the hearth, and lowering her voice till it
sounded husky and unnatural, "right down the chimney, right in front of
the woman, who cried out, while she turned her wheel round and round
with her bobbin, 'What makes your feet so big, my friend?' 'Traveling
long journeys. Traveling long journeys,' replied the skeleton feet, and
again the woman sang--

'Oh! if I'd good company--if I'd good company,
Oh! how happy should I be!'

Rattle--rattle went something in the chimney, and down came a pair of
little mouldering ankles. 'What makes your ankles so small?' asked the
woman. 'Worm-eaten, worm-eaten,' answe