"It is nothing very remarkable," said Mrs. Read, as the children seated themselves, one on each side of her, Prudy with her crocheting of violet and white worsted, and Dotty with nothing at all to do but play with the tongs. "Mrs. Knowles was a very large, fleshy woman, who lived near my father's house when I was a little girl. Some people were very much afraid of her, and thought her a witch. Her sister's husband, Mr. Palmer, got very angry with her, and declared she bewitched his cattle." "Did she, grandma?" asked Dotty. "No, indeed, my dear; and couldn't have done it if she had tried." "Then 'twas very _unpertinent_ for him to say so!" "He was a lazy man, and did not take proper care of his animals. Sometimes he came over and talked with my mother about his trials with his wicked sister-in-law. He said he often went to the barn in the morning, and found his poor cattle had walked up to the top of the scaffold; and how could they do that unless they were bewitched?" "Did they truly do it? I know what the scaffold is; it is a high place where you look for hen's eggs." "Yes; I believe the cows did really walk up there; but this was the way it happened, Alice: They were not properly fastened into their stalls, and being very hungry, they went into the barn for something to eat. The barn floor was covered with hay, and there was a hill of hay which led right up to the scaffold; so they could get there well enough without being bewitched." "Did your mother--my great-grandma--believe in witches?" asked Prudy. "What did she say to Mr. Palmer?" "O, no! she had no faith in witches; thy great grandmother was a sensible woman." She said to him, "Friend Asa, thee'd better have some good strong bows made for thy cattle, and put on their necks; and then I think thee'll find they can't get out of their stalls. Thee says they are as lean as Pharaoh's kine, and I would advise thee to feed them better. Cattle that are well fed and well cared for will never go bewitched." "Did Mrs. Knowles know what people said about her?" asked Prudy. "Yes; she heard the stories, and it made her feel very badly." "How did she look?" "A little like thy grandmother Parlin, if I remember, only she was much larger." "Did she know anything?" "O, yes; it was rather an ignorant neighborhood; but she was one of the most intelligent women in it." "Did she ever go anywhere?" "Yes; she came to my mother for sympathy. I remember just how she looked in her tow and linen dress, with her hair fastened at the back of the head with a goose-quill." "There, there!" cried Dotty, "that was what made 'em call her a witch!" "O, no; a goose-quill was quite a common fashion in those times, and a great deal prettier, too, than the waterfalls thee sees nowadays. Mrs. Knowles dressed like other people, and looked like other people, for aught I know; but I wished she would not come to our house so much." "Didn't you like her?"