"'I don't want exactly a serving wench, nor a daughter, nor a sister, but some one as is betwixt and between, and a bit of all three. Thee can work a bit, give thee time, and we can crack an old tale together after tea; I shan't be timid with thee, nor thee of me. Us shall be just two old folks goin' down the hill together--and the getting down shall be natural, and friendly. I can take thy hand, and thou canst take mine.' "And her did give me a hand," exclaimed old Betty, warmly, "a hand that has kape me safe all these years; and I bless the Lord for such a true and good friend." We sat on in silence, and I could not but think how sweet, and loyal, had been the friendship of these two old people. Suddenly Betty got up and poked the fire. "Last time as yer war callin'," she said, "yer asked me, mam, what I could say about that Nanny Morgan, her as war a known witch. Nell won't name her, for her says Nan was given up to the devil, and all his works, and that her has something else to think of. But since yer are wishful to know, and the little lady is not here, I'll tell yer what I can. [Sidenote: THE STORY OF THE WITCH] "Nanny Morgan was the daughter of Richard Williams, and she war born and bred in a little house up at Westwood, on the way to Presthope. Yer must often have seen the place, as yer go to Five Chimneys. Nan war a fine, strapping lass when first I remembered her. Dark, tall, with steel-grey eyes. Her got into trouble when quite a maid for having a finger in the pie of robbing Mrs. Powell at Bourton. Her was tried at Shrewsbury for the robbery, and lay in prison, they said, a long time. When her got out of prison her own people wouldn't harbour her, they said, and she went and lived with the gipsies. There she learnt card tricks, tellin' of fortunes, and took to wandering and unchristian ways. Us didn't see her at Wenlock for a long while, but one day she turned up at Wenlock Market on a Monday, and told a friend that her had taken 'dad's old house' and meant to settle down and bide in the old place. "Her called herself then Nanny Morgan, though who Morgan war I never rightly knew, most like some tinker man. Anyway, her went to Westwood, and there her lived, told fortunes by cards and by hand-readin', sold love drinks, and was hired out as a curser--and of all the cursers, there war none that could curse with Nan. For her cursed the goin's in and the goin's out of folks, the betwixt and between, the side-ways and slip-slaps, till, as they said, there wasn't foot-room for folks to stand on, nor a thimbleful of air for a creature to breathe, that hard could Nanny curse.