"Well, well, I dare say you are right, only I thought I heard something about it. Get me a drink of cider, Chloe, there's a good soul. You'll be old yourself some day." "I ain't far from it now," mid Chloe, relenting a little, as it seemed by her tone. "Then sit down in the shade, and I'll give you some cider, and your pail full of skim milk if you want it." Calista heard the kitchen door shut and bolted, while Chloe departed on her errand. But Jael did not sit down in the shade. She hurried across the road with wonderful swiftness, and disappeared for a moment behind General Stanfield's monument. When she appeared again, her face was a curious mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. She got back just in time to meet Chloe as she unbarred the door. "What took you across the road in such a hurry?" asked Chloe. "I saw you from the buttery window." "I thought I saw a lame quail," said the old woman. "Smart you must be, to be taken in by a lame quail! There, there's a fine pail of milk and some cold potatoes for you. Why don't you and your husband settle down like decent folks, and have good times?" "Oh, we have our good times now and then as well as you," chuckled the old woman. "Thank you all the same. Good-bye." "She ain't a witch, that's certain," muttered Chloe to herself, as she watched Jael out of sight. "Maybe she is something as bad or worse; anyhow, a pail of milk won't hurt her." Calista laughed behind the blinds to think how she had circumvented the old woman. But she did not know all the plans in that wicked old head, by a great deal. CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. THE FAIR. THE fair was a great success, though a good deal of the pleasure was marred to Calista by the absence of several of her friends. Miss McPherson had been called to New York to see Miss Jessy off for Scotland, whither she had gone to attend to a small inheritance which had fallen to her. Miss Meeks was with her sister, who was sinking in a rapid decline. Mary Settson was going about with her father, now and then writing a long letter to Calista—now and then, but not very often, for postage was a consideration in those days, when every single letter cost eighteen cents and a double one a great deal more. The law was a very whimsical one. You might use one sheet the size of a barn door, if you could get one; but if you put in a second bit of paper, though no larger than a visiting card, you must pay double postage. Under such circumstances, a letter was a grave consideration. In Miss Jessy's absence, Clary Whitman took charge of the school table, assisted by Calista and Belle Adair, who had come back to Cohansey for the purpose. Everything went off beautifully. Calista had hardly ever been out in an evening before, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. For once in her life she had the pleasure of appearing in a handsome new frock—a sprigged India muslin, which she had found among her mother's things.