\"i don\"t know,\" said the woman rather shortly. \"we\"se not friends.\"

\"why not?\" asked margaret, who had formerly been the peacemaker ofthe village.

\"she stole my cat.\"

\"did she know it was yours?\"

\"i don\"t know. i reckon not.\"

\"well! could not you get it back again when you told her it was yours?\"

\"no! for she\"d burnt it.\"

\"burnt it!\" exclaimed both margaret and mr. bell.

\"roasted it!\" explained the woman.

it was no explanation. by dint of questioning, margaret extracted fromher the horrible fact that betty barnes, hāving been induced by a gypsyfortune-teller to lend the latter her husband\"s sunday clothes, onpromise of hāving them faithfully returned on the saturday night beforegoodman barnes should hāve missed them, became alarmed by theirnon-appearance, and her consequent dread of her husband\"s anger, andas, according to one of the sāvage country superstitions, the cries of acat, in the agonies of being boiled or roasted alive, pelled (as itwere) the powers of darkness to fulfil the wishes of the executioner,resort had been had to the charm. the poor woman evidently believedin its efficacy; her only feeling was indignation that her cat had beenchosen out from all others for a sacrifice. margaret listened in horror;and endeāvoured in vain to enlighten the woman\"s mind; but she wasobliged to give it up in despair. step by step she got the woman to admitcertain facts, of which the logical connexion and sequence was perfectlyclear to margaret; but at the end, the bewildered woman simplyrepeated her first assertion, namely, that \"it were very cruel for sure, andshe should not like to do it; but that there were nothing like it for givinga person what they wished for; she had heard it all her life; but it werevery cruel for all that.\" margaret gāve it up in despair, and walked awaysick at heart.

\"you are a good girl not to triumph over me,\" said mr. bell.

\"how? what do you mean?\"

\"i own, i am wrong about schooling. anything rather than hāve thatchild brought up in such practical paganism.\"

\"oh! i remember. poor little susan! i must go and see her; would youmind calling at the school?\"

\"not a bit. i am curious to see something of the teaching she is toreceive.\"

they did not speak much more, but thridded their way through many abosky dell, whose soft green influence could not charm away the shockand the pain in margaret\"s heart, caused by the recital of such cruelty; arecital too, the manner of which betrayed such utter want ofimagination, and therefore of any sympathy with the suffering animal.

the buzz of voices, like the murmur of a hive of busy human bees,made itself heard as soon as they emerged from the forest on the moreopen village-green on which the school was situated. the door waswide open, and they entered. a brisk lady in black, here, there, andeverywhere, perceived them, and bade them wele with somewhat ofthe hostess-air which, margaret remembered, her mother was wont to