"He went ambling along the road, the people staring at him, until he came to the witch's house. Everything was quiet there. The windows and doors were closed, and the only sign of life about the place was a big black cat that sat on the water-shelf. Three Wits rode the Stag around the house three times. Then over the roof he threw a bobbin. To the right he threw another, and to the left another. The silver wire seemed to whirl until it became a tangle of wire all over the house. The big black cat made an attempt to escape, but it was caught in the wire as a fly is caught in a spider's web, and it hung helpless by the water-shelf. "And then a very wonderful thing happened. The silver wire seemed to become so heavy that the roof of the house couldn't bear its weight. The cabin swayed, and finally the roof fell in with a crash. Out of the dust and wreck walked the father of Three Wits, leading his horse, and, following him, came a dozen or more elegantly dressed gentlemen whom Three Wits had never seen before. They shook hands with the boy and thanked him for coming to their rescue, and each gave him a large sum of gold, so that when they started on their way home, Three Wits found that he was very rich. As for the father, he seized Three Wits in his arms and embraced him again and again, and declared that even a king might be proud to have such a brave son. "While they were talking, the little old man came out of the wood. He went straight to Three Wits, placed his hand on the boy's head, and seemed to be blessing him. Then he lifted Three Wits from the Stag's back, mounted in his place, waved his hand twice, and, in a twinkling, had disappeared in the wood. That was the end of the witch, and this is the end of the story." "Well, I think it is a very good story," said Buster John. "I think so, too," remarked Sweetest Susan; "but I'm sorry there was no little girl in it." XVII. "KEEN-POINT," "COB-HANDLE," AND "BUTCH." "The three bobbins," said Mrs. Meadows, "remind me of a circumstance--" "Is a circumstance a story?" interrupted Sweetest Susan. "Oh, you mustn't mind my country talk," replied Mrs. Meadows, laughing. "It was a trick of my tongue. I didn't want to say 'story' because you might be disappointed. But I reckon I may as well call it a story. Well, as I was saying, the three bobbins remind me of a story that was partly about a little girl." "I know it must be a nice story," cried Sweetest Susan enthusiastically. But Mrs. Meadows shook her head. "From all I can hear," she said, "matters and things in general are a great deal nicer in books than they are outside of books. Folks are folks, anyway you can fix them, I don't care what the books say. But I'll not deny that in my day and time I have seen folks mighty near as nice and as pretty as those you read about in the books, and one of these was the little girl I am going to tell you about.