The children bade farewell and went out. As they passed the end of the house they saw the black figure of an old woman creeping round the back as though not wishing to be seen. “Oh, there’s that horrible old woman! ‘Moll o’ the graves,’” said Audry; “let us run. I wonder what she has been doing listening round the house; I hate her. You know, Aline, they say she does all manner of dreadful things, that it was she who made all old Benjamin Darley’s sheep die. Some people say she eats children and if she cannot get hold of them alive she digs them up from their graves at night. I do not believe it, but come along.” “No, I want to see what she is doing,” said Aline; “I am sure she is up to no good. I believe that she has been spying outside waiting for us to depart, so that she can go in.” “But you cannot prevent her,” said Audry. “We must prevent her,” said Aline; “she might frighten Joan to death.” Aline was right and the old woman came round from the other end of the house and approached the cottage door. Aline at once advanced and stood between the old woman and the door, while Audry followed and took up her position beside Aline. “What do you want, mother?” said Aline. “What business is that of yours?” said the old dame savagely; “you clear away from that door or I will make it the worse for you.” She raised her stick as she spoke and glared at the children. It was not her physical strength that frightened them, as they were two in number, although she was armed with a stick, but something gruesome and unearthly about her manner. Aline took a step forward so as half to shelter Audry, but her breath came quickly and she was filled with an unspeakable dread. “You must not go in there,” said the child firmly; “there is a little girl within who is sick and she must not be disturbed.” “I shall do as I please and go in if I please,” she muttered, advancing to the door and laying her hand on the latch. Aline at once seized her by the shoulders, saying, “I may want your help, Audry,” and gently but firmly turned her round and guided her on to the road. Moll made no resistance, as she feared the publicity of the road and moreover the girls were both strong and well built, though of different types. Aline then stepped so as to face her, and keeping one hand on her shoulder, she said, as she looked her full in the eyes,--“go home, Moll, Joan is not well enough to see any one else to-day,--go home.” The old woman’s eyes dropped; she was cowed; she felt herself in the presence of something she had never met before, as she caught the fire in those intense blue eyes. “I will never forgive you,” she snarled, but she skulked down the road like a beaten dog. The children stood and watched her, feeling a little shaken after their unpleasant experience. “What a good thing you were there,” said Audry. “I am sure she would have frightened Joan terribly.” “Come, let us forget it,” and they raced down to the waterfall.