Miss Mouse and Her Boys. Molesworth Mrs.

the pony and passed the signpost at a walk, to let the little girl have a good look at it, and at the road beyond – 'yes, that's it, "To W, h, i, t, – Whitcrow," quite plain. I wonder if Whitcrow once was White Crow, auntie? Do you think so? I'd like to see the house they go to school at – at least to lessons to. Can we drive that way some day?'

      She was in a little flutter of interest and excitement. Mrs. Caryll looked at her with a smile.

      'What funny creatures children are,' she thought to herself. 'A moment ago Rosamond was quite melancholy and depressed, as if the boys had really overwhelmed her, and now she is as bright as anything about them again.'

      'Certainly, dear,' she said, her own spirits rising, 'I can show you Mr. Pierce's vicarage any day. What were you asking about Whitcrow? I don't think it ever struck me before that it may have come from White Crow. But a white crow, Rosamond, that would be a funny thing!'

      'Yes,' said the little girl, laughing, 'when we always say "as black as a crow." But – I think I have heard of a white crow – or was it perhaps in a fairy story? I can't think.'

      'We must ask Uncle Ted,' said her aunt. 'He knows all about curious things like that – all about wild birds and country things. But why do you say when they go to their lessons on rainy days? They go every day.'

      'Oh yes, of course,' Rosamond replied. 'But it's only on rainy days they go by the road,' and she explained to her aunt the different plans that Justin had explained to her.

      'That is new since my time,' said Mrs. Caryll. 'They used to drive to Whitcrow every morning and walk back if it was fine – and on rainy days the pony-cart was put up at the rectory. On fine days the stable boy went with them and brought it back. I used very often to go to meet them in the afternoons across the moor.'

      'Oh then,' said Rosamond eagerly, 'you know the cottage where Bob Crag lives and the queer old woman. I do so want to see her. Will you take me there some day?'

      Her aunt hesitated.

      'What have they been telling you about Bob and his grandmother?' she asked.

      'Oh, only just about how queer they are, and that people aren't very kind to them, because they don't know where they come from and things like that, and I was wondering – I couldn't help wondering' – the little girl went on in a somewhat awe-struck tone of voice – 'if perhaps the old woman is a sort of a witch. I've never seen a witch, but I've read about them in fairy stories.'

      'And is that why you so much want to go to see old Mrs. Crag,' said her aunt, half laughing.

      'I don't quite know,' said Rosamond. 'Yes, I think it is partly. It's a little frightening to think of, but frightening things are rather nice too sometimes – in a sort of fancying way, I mean. For there aren't really any witches now, are there, auntie?'

      She was not quite sure of this all the same, for as she spoke, she crept a little closer to Mrs. Caryll. It was beginning to get dusk, and the part of the road along which they were then passing ran through a wood; at all times it was rather gloomy just here.

      'Real witches,' repeated her aunt; 'of course not, though I daresay Pat could tell you stories by the dozen about them, and no doubt Bob's grandmother is a curious old body. Long ago I daresay she would have been called a witch. I don't think she is quite right in her head, and Bob is a wild, gipsy-like creature. I don't think their father and mother care for the boys to see much of him, though both he and his grandmother are devoted to them. Some day – ' but before Mrs. Caryll had time to say more, the sound of some one whistling in a peculiar way, two or three notes almost like a bird call, made her stop short.

      'Why, that must be your uncle,' she exclaimed, 'coming to meet us,' and she whipped up the pony to make him go faster.

      They were not far from home by this time, and when Uncle Ted, for he it was, got into the pony-cart beside them, there was no more talk between Aunt Mattie and her little niece.

      'How are they all getting on at Moor Edge?' was the first thing he asked.