“Stack your wheels under that chestnut tree,” said Anne, in a tone of command that gave the others courage, “and we will follow this dog. We can easily send for the wheels, and no one will steal them here.” The lane soon became wider and more open, which was encouraging; but this also gave them a better view of the lurid sky, and did not show the stream that they must cross before they reached the highroad. “There is a hen and some chickens under that shed and where these are there are usually people near,” said Miss Letty, peering over the vine-tangled wall. “There is a house,” cried Anne, at the very moment that the squall struck the bushes beyond and launched a shower of raindrops so squarely in her eyes that she was blinded for a moment. A house it surely was, and doubtless at one time substantial, but now scarcely more than a house in name; for the tops of the tall chimney were crumbling, half the window-panes were broken, and one side sash was wholly missing. Still the jumble of red day-lilies, bluebells, and trumpet-vine in the pathless garden made it look cheerful, and any shelter was welcome. [Illustration] “We must have been going round in a circle,” said Anne, as she fumbled with a rusty iron hoop that held the gate fast. “The dead tree is in front again, and this must be the old house that the Herb Witch lived in before she went to the town farm.” As Anne opened the gate, the collie, who for the moment had been forgotten, slipped past, and hobbling across the yard scratched at the side door. “There must be some one living here, then,” said Anne, and following the dog she knocked twice, briskly. There was no answer, though she was sure that she heard footsteps, and a light puff of smoke from the least tumble-down chimney told that the house was inhabited. Anne began to feel very uncomfortable, and Elsa Willoughby whispered, “Suppose this is a tramp’s camp?” A perfectly natural remark, but one that was not comforting. [Illustration] The collie scratched again, and then gave two sharp barks. Instantly there was a quick tapping sound inside, as of a stick on the floor, the door opened in with a bang, a weak hinge giving way at the pull, while a gaunt female figure leaning on a crutch clasped the dog in her arms, hugging him and crying: “My laddie, my laddie, and I thought they had taken ye, when ye stayed agone three nights, and when I heard the shot this noon I thought they had killed ye certy.”--It was the Herb Witch herself! * * * * * A flash and crash followed by a gust of rain made Anne step forward, and as quickly as possible ask for shelter. When the woman saw the party, her face grew rigid again and, for a moment, it seemed as if she would close the door; then she changed her mind, and opening it as wide as the broken hinge would allow, said, “Walk in, leddies.”