The girl started, and as her eyes fell upon the face of the visitor her lips parted to utter a cry, but the peculiar look on the old woman's face seemed to fascinate her, and she sat back gazing at her as Mother Goodhugh climbed in at the casement, and stood by her side. "Wh-what do you want?" faltered the girl. "I've come to see thee, dearie," said the old woman, smiling. "I want to know how you be getting on." "But you must not stay here!" cried Janet, making an effort to recover herself. "If master knew he would drive me hence." "Go and tell him, then, child," said Mother Goodhugh mockingly. "Go and tell him that Mother Goodhugh has come to ask thee about thy love affairs, and the philtre she gave thee. What? You will not? He, he, he, he! What a strange girl you are." "But you must not stay!" cried Janet in alarm. "If you were found here master would never forgive me." "He is sitting smoking and drinking in his parlour, dearie, and never comes this way after dark." "Yes, yes, he does!" cried the girl; "he comes sometimes to go down to the powder-cellar with a lantern." "What, through that door?" said Mother Goodhugh, pointing. "Nay, nay! That be the beer cellar. That be the way to the powder-cellar," she said, pointing to a massive door, down a couple of steps. "That be the first door, and there be another farther on at the end of the passage." "Lawk adear!" said Mother Goodhugh, "and aren't you afraid, when they bring the stuff down?" "They never bring it through here," said the girl. "They let the little barrels down through a hole covered with a flat stone outside there amongst the trees, and master goes along with Tom Croftly to take it, in their slippers, and then comes back and locks it up." "Ay, and I'll be bound to say always carries the keys in his pocket, eh!" "No," said the girl, shaking her head. "They hang on a nail in the passage by the door." "There, I don't want to know about the powder, dearie," cried Mother Goodhugh. "Oh, the horrible stuff! I always begin to curse when I hear it mentioned, so we won't talk about it. I came to see you, and talk about love, and--" "But you mustn't stop, indeed you mustn't stop," whispered Janet. "Suppose Mistress Mace should come?" "But she won't come, dearie. She's in the corner of the parlour window with the handsome young spark from town." "How do you know?" cried Janet. "How do I know, child! He-he-he! Do you think there's anything I don't know? You came to me because I was the wise woman, eh?" "Ye-es," faltered the girl. "Well, didn't you expect me to be wise, child, eh?" Janet shrank as far away from her as she could, and stared at her, round of eye and parted of mouth. "Look here, dearie," whispered the old woman, "don't try to deceive me. I'm such a good friend, but such a bad enemy. You wouldn't like to make me angry, and set me cursing and ill-wishing you."