The boy laughed. "Tell me when you see brown bear a-coming," quoth he. "Losh! a bear steak would taste mighty good after eternal bacon!" Porringer closed his book and restored it to his bosom. "Tell me," he said, abruptly, "have you seen aught of the young man called Landless?" "’The young man called Landless,’" answered the other, petulantly, "has a d—d easy berth of it! Yesterday evening I carried water from the spring to the great house to water Mistress Patricia’s posies, and every time I passes the window of the master’s room I see that fellow a-sitting at his ease in a fine chair before a fine table, writing away as big as all out of doors. And every time I says to him, says I, ’I reckon you think yourself as fine as the Lord Mayor of London? A pretty sec’tary you make!’" "Have you seen him to-day?" "No, I have n’t seen him to-day,—but I see someone else. Mates," he exclaimed, "Witch Margery’s coming down t’ other side of creek. I ’ll call her over." Scrambling to his feet he gave a low halloo through his hands, "Margery! Margery! Come and find the road to Paradise!" Margery waved her hand to signify that she heard and understood, and presently stepped upon the fallen tree that spanned the stream. It was a narrow and a slippery bridge, but she flitted across it with the secure grace of some woodland thing, and, staff in hand, advanced towards the men. Between them and the western sun she stood still, a dark figure against a halo of gold light, and threw an intent and searching glance over the unbroken green of the marsh and the blue of the waters beyond. Then with a wild laugh she came up to them and cast her staff wreathed with dark ivy upon the ground. "The road is not here," she cried. "Here is all green grass, and beyond is the weary, weary, weary sea! There is no long, bright, shining road to Paradise." She sat down beside her staff, and taking her chin into her hand, stared fixedly at the ground. The men gathered around her, with the exception of the Muggletonian, who, after audibly comparing her to the Witch of Endor, turned on his side and drew his cap over his eyes as if to shut out the hated sight. The convict took up the staff and began to pull from it the strings of ivy. "Put it down!" she said quickly. The man continued to strip it of its leafy mantle. "Put it down, can’t you?" said the youth. "She never lets any one touch it. She says an angel gave it to her to help her on her way." With a snarling laugh the convict threw it from him with all his force. Whirling through the air it struck the water midway from shore to shore. Margery sprang to her feet with a loud cry. The boy rose also. "D—n you!" he said, wrathfully. "I’d like to break it over your misshapen back! Here, Margery, don’t fret. I ’ll get it for you."