The latter part of this address was delivered in a muttered soliloquy, as she pushed the hood back from her face and shook the snow off her cloak. The "little limb," totally unheeding the reprimand, still stood peering up in her face, scanning its iron lineaments with an amusing mixture of curiosity and impudence. As Miss Jerusha again turned round and encountered the piercing stare of those great, dark, bright eyes fixed so unwinkingly on her face, she felt, for the first time in her life, perhaps, restless and uneasy under the infliction. "My conscience! little gal, don't stare so! I 'clare to gracious I never see sich a child! I don't know what she looks like," said Miss Jerusha. The latter sentence was not intended for the child's ears, but it reached those sharp little organs nevertheless, and, still keeping her needle-like gaze fixed on the wrinkled face of the spinster, she said: "Well, if you don't, I know what _you_ look like, anyway--I do!" "And what do I look like?" said Miss Jerusha, in rising anger, having a presentiment something impudent was coming. "Why just exactly like one of the witches in Macbeth." Now, our worthy maiden lady had never heard of the "Noble Thane," but she had a pretty strong idea of what witches riding on broomsticks were like, and here this little black goblin girl had the audacity to compare her to one of them. For one awful moment Miss Jerusha glared upon the daring little sinner in impotent rage, while her fingers fairly ached to seize her and pound her within an inch of her life. Her face must have expressed her amiable desire, for the elf sprang back, and throwing herself into a stage attitude, uttered some words in a tragic voice, quite overpowering, coming from so small a body. The noise awoke the sleeper near the fire. She turned restlessly, opened her eyes, and called: "Georgia!" "Here, mamma; here I am," said the elf, springing up and bending over her. "Do you want anything?" "No, dear. I thought I heard you talking. Hasn't Warren come yet?" "No, mamma." "Then who were you talking to a moment ago? Is there any one here?" "Yes, mamma, the funniest looking old woman--here, _you_!" said the elf, beckoning to Miss Jerusha. Mechanically that lady obeyed the peremptory summons, too completely stunned and shocked by this unheard-of effrontery to fully realize for a moment that her ears had not deceived her. She approached and bent over the sufferer. Two hollow eyes were raised to her face, and feeling herself in the awful presence of death, all Miss Jerusha's indignation faded away, and she said, in a softened voice: "I am sorry to see you in this wretched place. Can I do anything for you?" "Who are you?" said the woman, transfixing her with a gaze quite as uncompromising as her little daughter's had been. "My name is Jerusha Skamp. I saw a light in this here cottage, and came over to see who was here. What can I do for you?"