ont of a dark curtain and waited. The first question
demanded his name, and when that had been answered the voice went on,--

"What do you want of the witch?"

"That depends on what she can do," said Norton.

"Power unlimited."

"Then I wish she would cast a spell upon Mrs. Lloyd."

"To what effect?"

"That she would let me have the little corner attic room for a
greenhouse."

"How would you warm it?"

"It wouldn't want much more warming than it has now. A gas stove would
do, I think."

"You may go. You shall hear from me in the course of the week."

Norton went out in high glee. "She's a brick, that witch!" he
exclaimed. "Go along, Judy--and make haste; people are taking leave
now. I don't know whose the voice is, though," he went on; "I couldn't
make it out. I guess"--But Norton stopped; and Judy went in.

"Are you in want of anything, Judy Bartholomew?" the unseen witch asked.

"I haven't got all I want," said Judy; "if you mean that."

"State what is needed."

"There are a great many things," said Judy unblushingly; "but the two
things I wish for most particularly are--to give a ball, for one; and
to have a diamond ring, for the other."

"Short of these two things, all your wishes are satisfied then?"

"No," said Judy hesitatingly,--"I didn't say that. I want lots of
things besides; but those two most."

"You may go. The witch always wants time. Have you any debts to pay? of
money? of any other sort?"

"No indeed," said Judy decidedly.

"Is there anybody to whom you would like to do a kindness?"

"Not that I know of."

"You may go. Your wants shall be considered."

Judy came out triumphant. She would have had her brother go next, but
he insisted that Matilda should precede him. So Matilda went into the
darkened, mysterious boudoir of the receptions.

"Who is this?" said the voice.

And a gentle answer came; not like Judy's proclaiming of herself, yet
clear and frank too.

"Matilda Laval, what would you like of all things, if you could have
it?"

Matilda hesitated. "There are so many things"--she began,--"it isn't
very easy"--

"So many things you would like?"

"Yes, ma'am. Not for _myself_," she added, in a kind of horror at being
supposed to entertain such wishes under the flood of good things that
had come upon her that evening.

"Well, go on. It is for yourself in one way. Say what, of all you can
think of, would give you most pleasure."

Matilda's hands came together with