ry bark, an' orange (bad
scran to it) wid the inner bark of Birch, an' yaller wid the roots
av Hoop Ash, an' a foine scarlet from the bark av the little root av
Dogwood, but there ain't no rale blue in the woods, an' that's what I
tell them orange-an'-blue Prattisons on the 12th o' July, fur what the
Lord didn't make the divil did.

"Ye kin make a koind of blue out o' the Indigo hairb, but 'tain't like
this," pointing to some screaming cobalt, "an' if it ain't in the
woods the good Lord niver meant us to have it. Yis! I tell ye it's
the divil's own colour, that blue-orange an' blue is the divil's own
colours, shure enough, fur brimstone's yaller; an' its blue whin it's
burnin', that I hed from his riv'rince himself--bless him!"

XII.

Dinner with the Witch

Biddy meanwhile had waddled around the room slapping the boards with
her broad bare feet as she prepared their dinner. She was evidently
trying to put on style, for she turned out her toes excessively.
She spoke several times about "the toime when she resoided with yer
mamma," then at length, "Whayer's the tablecloth, Granny?"

"Now, wud ye listen to thot, an' she knowin' that divil a clath hev we
in the wurruld, an' glad enough to hev vittles on the table, let
alone a clath," said Granny, oblivious of the wreck she was making of
Biddy's pride.

"Will ye hay tay or coffee, Yahn?" said Biddy.

"Tea," was Yan's choice.

"Faix, an' Oi'm glad ye said tay, fur Oi ain' seen a pick o' coffee
sense Christmas, an' the tay Oi kin git in the woods, but thayer is
somethin' Oi kin set afore ye that don't grow in the woods," and the
old woman hobbled to a corner shelf, lifted down an old cigar box and
from among matches, tobacco, feathers, tacks, pins, thread and dust
she picked six lumps of cube sugar, formerly white.

"Thayer, shure, an' Oi wuz kapin' this fur whin his riv'rence comes;
wanst a year he's here, God bless him! but that's fower wakes ahid,
an' dear knows fwhat may happen afore thin. Here, an' a hearty
welcome," said she, dropping three of the lumps in Yan's tea. "We'll
kape the rest fur yer second cup. Hev some crame?" and she pushed over
a sticky-handled shaving-mug full of excellent cream. "Biddy, give
Yahn some bread."

The loaf, evidently the only one, was cut up and two or three slices
forced into Yan's plate.

"Mebbe the butther is a little hoigh," exclaimed the hostess, noting
that Yan was sparing of it. "Howld on." She went again to th