l as ever. I knew a man in Ireland much worse than you
are. He couldn't move his hands and arms. Legs are bad enough, but
when it's hands and arms as well, you know, it's worse. Well, now you
couldn't tell there'd ever been anything the matter with him."

"And what cured 'im?" Tom asked with interest.

"Oh, he just _thought_ he'd get well, you know. You've got to set
yourself that way, don't you see? If mountains can be moved by faith,
you can surely move your own legs!"

"That sounds reasonable any way," Tom ejaculated.

"Do you like reading?" said Beth.

"Yes, I read a bit at times."

"Well, I've brought you a book," Beth proceeded, handing him the
borrowed volume. "You'll find it interesting, I'm sure. It's a great
favourite of mine."

"You're mighty good," the sailor said.

"Oh, not at all," Beth answered largely. Then she wished him good-bye.
But she often visited him again in the same character, and the stories
she told that unhappy invalid for his comfort and encouragement were
amazing. When the book was missed, and her mother bothered about it,
she listened serenely, and even helped to look for it.

Beth strolled homewards when she left her protege, and on the way she
became Norna of the Fitful Head. She tried Minna and Brenda first, but
these characters were too insipid for her taste. Norna was different.
She did things, you know, and made charms, and talked poetry, and
people were afraid of her. Beth believed in her thoroughly. She'd be
Norna, and make charms. But she had no lead. Norna looked about her.
She knew by magic that Cleveland was coming to consult her, and she
had no lead. There was a border of lead, however, over the attic
window outside. All she had to do was to steal upstairs, climb out of
the window on to the roof, and cut a piece of the lead off. It was now
the mystic moment to obtain lead, but she must be wary. She strolled
through the kitchen in a casual way. Harriet was busy about the grate,
and paid no attention to her; so she secured the carving-knife without
difficulty, went up to the attic, and opened the window. She was now
on the dangerous pinnacle of a temple, risking her life in order to
obtain the materials for a charm which would give her priceless power.

On the other side of the street, there lived in the Orchard House
another widow-woman with three daughters. She let lodgings, and was
bringing up her children to honest industry in that state of life. She
and Mrs. Cal