of her
diabolic nature, like a snake's head peeping with a hiss out of her
bosom, at this pusillanimous behavior of the thing which she had taken
the trouble to put together.

"Puff away, wretch!" cried she, wrathfully. "Puff puff, puff, thou
thing of straw and emptiness! thou rag or two! thou meal-bag! thou
pumpkin-head! thou nothing! Where shall I find a name vile enough to
call thee by? Puff, I say, and suck in thy fantastic life along with
the smoke, else I snatch the pipe from thy mouth and hurl thee where
that red coal came from."

Thus threatened, the unhappy scarecrow had nothing for it but to puff
away for dear life. As need was, therefore, it applied itself lustily
to the pipe, and sent forth such abundant volleys of tobacco-smoke that
the small cottage-kitchen became all-vaporous. The one sunbeam
struggled mistily through, and could but imperfectly define the image
of the cracked and dusty window-pane on the opposite wall.

Mother Rigby, meanwhile, with one brown arm akimbo and the other
stretched toward the figure, loomed grimly amid the obscurity with such
port and expression as when she was wont to heave a ponderous nightmare
on her victims and stand at the bedside to enjoy their agony.

In fear and trembling did this poor scarecrow puff. But its efforts, it
must be acknowledged, served an excellent purpose, for with each
successive whiff the figure lost more and more of its dizzy and
perplexing tenuity and seemed to take denser substance. Its very
garments, moreover, partook of the magical change, and shone with the
gloss of novelty, and glistened with the skilfully embroidered gold
that had long ago been rent away, and, half revealed among the smoke, a
yellow visage bent its lustreless eyes on Mother Rigby.

At last the old witch clenched her fist and shook it at the figure. Not
that she was positively angry but merely acting on the principle--perhaps
untrue or not the only truth, though as high a one as Mother Rigby
could be expected to attain--that feeble and torpid natures, being
incapable of better inspiration, must be stirred up by fear. But here
was the crisis. Should she fail in what she now sought to affect, it
was her ruthless purpose to scatter the miserable simulacre into its
original elements.

"Thou hast a man's aspect," said she, sternly, "have also the echo and
mockery of a voice. I bid thee speak!"

The scarecrow gasped, struggled, and at length emitted a murmur which
was so inc