After safely passing several dangerous obstacles in the way of knots and twigs, the savory basket-load reached Ladybird, and she gleefully examined the contents. "It seems to me," she said reflectively, "that Bridget is a duck--a big fat duck." "She is that, miss," said Matthew, agreeably. The conversation flagged then, for Ladybird was busily engaged; and Matthew was bewildered, and quite uncertain what course to pursue. He could not see the child, though between the thickly leaved branches he could catch glimpses of her red frock at the very top of the tree. Presently he heard her voice again. "Matthew, there's no use of your staying there; you'll get rheumatism. You may go now. I shall stay here. There is no message for my aunts. Good night." "Oh, miss, don't be foolish now; come down; let me take ye to the house." "Good night, Matthew." "Miss, yer aunts is that worrited!" "Good night, Matthew." "Well, miss," with a sigh of resignation, "it does be awful cold here after dark. Sha'n't I bring ye a blanket jist?" "Good night, Matthew." Baffled, the old man went back to the house. His emotions were rioting within him; his sense of duty was dulled. He well knew he ought to tell the Flint ladies where the child was; and yet she had said there was no message, and somehow the little witch's word seemed like an iron law. But when he reached the farm-house and found the Misses Flint pale with real anxiety concerning their niece, he felt intuitively that their feelings had changed, and so he said: "Well, yes, ma'am; I do know where she is." "Oh, Matthew, where?" cried Miss Priscilla, mistaking the cause of his hesitation; and Miss Dorinda said faintly: "Is she down the well?" "Down the well!" exclaimed Matthew. "No, indeed, ma'am; she's up a tree. She's up in the tiptopmost branch of the old Bell-flower apple-tree, and she won't come down. She says she's going to stay there all night, ma'am." "Stay there all night!" cried Miss Priscilla. "How ridiculous! She must come down at once." "Perhaps we can coax her down with something to eat," said Miss Dorinda. "Perhaps, ma'am," said Matthew, his eyes twinkling. "Bring us our things, Martha," said Miss Priscilla, with a dogged, do-or-die air, "and then Matthew can show us where our niece is, and we will bring her back." "If yez do, she'll come home holding the ribbons," thought Matthew to himself, as he respectfully waited his mistresses' pleasure. Martha brought to each of the Flint ladies a long black cloak, a wool crocheted cloud, and black worsted gloves; for without such sufficient protection the sisters never went out after dusk. "And I think rubbers, Martha," said Miss Priscilla, anxiously scanning the sky. "Oh, sister, the grass is as dry as a bone," said Miss Dorinda. "No signs of rain, ma'am," said Matthew. "Rubbers, Martha," said Miss Priscilla.