'Father. Oh, don't tell! He'd kill me. And I'm only a property, and sometimes so awkward and naughty.' Her eyes were swimming in tears. 'I'm sure I have a cold,' she said, wiping them. 'But you won't tell father, ever, ever, ever?' 'Never, never, _never_,' promised Antony. She grew calmer and happier now, and told him all the story of her young life as far as she knew it, and a deal about her many strange wanderings from the silvery Tweed to the rapid Spey with the Queerest Show. It was a fascinating story, but there was much sorrow in it; and the tiny lace handkerchief was quite wet before she finished. 'How old is Wallace?' 'Oh, only a year; but he is mine--my friend, although of course he is only a property.' 'And Skeleton and Mary?' 'They've always been with us. I should die if they left. Will you stop long, Mr Blake? Do; and Mrs Pendlebury and I will try to make you happy--especially I.' 'You droll child! But won't your fairy godmother be expecting us?' Crona came to her cottage-door to welcome them. She wore the 'mutch,' but was daintily dressed to receive company. Close by was a little shed or bower entirely thatched with green rushes; and underneath this, on a table covered by a snow-white cloth a most dainty repast was laid out, and the witch herself was asked by Antony to preside. Tod Lowrie hid himself into a ball, and was asleep in the sunshine, with his tail right over his face. Perhaps Wallace thought he was in the way, for he got his nose under the fox and rolled him right away into a dark corner. No doubt Tod Lowrie was awake; but, fox-like, he pretended not to be. Joe the raven was perched on a rafter, looking sly and demoniac. Every now and then he would say with a sigh, 'Well, well, such is life!' then hold back his head and laugh weirdly. At first Tim the tame mouse was not to be seen, but Lotty pointed him out to Antony. Tim was seated on the edge of the cat's dish, and every now and then he stretched a little white hand or paw down into pussy's milk, then drew it up and licked it clean. Crona's white scones and butter, and the meatpies which no doubt had been in the parcel that Lotty sent by Wallace, were very delicious. But there were fried mountain-trout also, and fruit to follow. But the wine was the water from a neighbouring rill. There was something so very unreal about all Antony's present surroundings, and one thing with another, that more than once he thought he must be dreaming, especially when Tim suddenly appeared on the table, and Lotty quietly fed him from a teaspoon. The raven kept on saying things with that eldritch, screaming laugh. Presently it was, 'Joe, Joe, don't you!' He had hopped down to the ground, and was slyly approaching a hassock placed there for pussy, and the cat was asleep on it, but her tail hung down. 'Joe, Joe, don't you. He! he! he! Joe, go back to perch. Joe, see what you'll catch!' He was near enough now, and gave the floating tail a most cruel pinch.