The window shutter creaked ever so slightly, and some one looked out; then
the door opened, and a very old and wrinkled woman, with lines of cunning
about her mouth, laid her hand upon the girl's arm. "Who be ye?" she
whispered. "Did ye bring warning? I don't say, mind ye, that I can't make
a stream go dry,--maybe I can and maybe I can't,--but I didn't put a word
on the one yonder." She threw up her arms with a wailing cry. "But they
won't believe what a poor old soul says! Are they in an evil temper,
honey?"
"I don't know what you mean," said Audrey. "I have come a long way, and I
am hungry and tired. Give me a piece of bread, and let me stay with you
to-night."
The old woman moved aside, and the girl, entering a room that was mean and
poor enough, sat down upon a stool beside the fire. "If ye came by the
mill," demanded her hostess, with a suspicious eye, "why did ye not stop
there for bite and sup?"
"The men were all talking together," answered Audrey wearily. "They looked
so angry that I was afraid of them. I did stop at one house; but the woman
bade me begone, and the children threw stones at me and called me a
witch."
The crone stooped and stirred the fire; then from a cupboard brought forth
bread and a little red wine, and set them before the girl. "They called
you a witch, did they?" she mumbled as she went to and fro. "And the men
were talking and planning together?"
Audrey ate the bread and drank the wine; then, because she was so tired,
leaned her head against the table and fell half asleep. When she roused
herself, it was to find her withered hostess standing over her with a sly
and toothless smile. "I've been thinking," she whispered, "that since
you're here to mind the house, I'll just step out to a neighbor's about
some business I have in hand. You can stay by the fire, honey, and be warm
and comfortable. Maybe I'll not come back to-night."
Going to the window, she dropped a heavy bar across the shutter. "Ye'll
put the chain across the door when I'm out," she commanded. "There be
evil-disposed folk may want to win in." Coming back to the girl, she laid
a skinny hand upon her arm. Whether with palsy or with fright the hand
shook like a leaf, but Audrey, half asleep again, noticed little beyond
the fact that the fire warmed her, and that here at last was rest. "If
there should come a knocking and a calling, honey," whispered the witch,
"don't ye answer to it or unbar the door. Ye'll save time for me that way.
But if they win in, tell them I went to the northward."