fiendish plans—­as I thought—­and now I am glad I was patient, for I see you meant well.  Dear Sarah Brown, you did mean well.  How sad it is that people who have once lived in the House of Living Alone can never make a success of friendship.  You say you left all you loved—­what business have you with love?  Thank you, my dear, for meaning so well, and for these fair days at sea.  But I mustn’t stay with you.  I mustn’t set foot on this land—­I can smell cleverness and un-magic even from here.  I must go back to my little Spring island, and my parish of Faery....”

“Ah, witch, don’t leave me, don’t leave me like this, ill and bewildered and so far from home....”

“How can you ever be far from home, you, a dweller in the greatest home of all.  Did you think you had destroyed the House of Living Alone?  Did you think you could escape from it?”

Sarah Brown said nothing.  She watched the witch call Harold her Broomstick to her, and adjust the saddle and tighten the strap round his middle.  She watched her mount and embark upon the sunny air.  The three Americans were talking politics, and did not notice anything but each other.  The witch alighted for a moment on one spike of the crown of Liberty, and climbing carefully down on to the lady’s parting, was seen by Sarah Brown to bend down till her head hung apoplectically upside down, and gaze long and curiously into that impassive bronze eye.  Presently she remounted Harold, and, with a flippant and ambiguous gesture of her foot, launched herself eastward.  She disappeared without looking back.

The dock was reached.  Sarah Brown collected David her Dog, and Humphrey her Suit-case.  Hers was a very wieldy family.  An official asked her something, using one side of his mouth only to do so, in the alarming manner of American officials.

“I cannot hear you,” said Sarah Brown.  “I am stone deaf.”

And she stepped over the threshold of the greater House of Living Alone.

THE END

Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh.