that the old housekeeper always did that herself. No
hireling was allowed to put a spade in the soil of the Grange garden.
Very soon we had proof that she was quite mad. The Lent lilies grew
about in great clumps, flourishing strong and high--a brave show. The
gaunt old woman waved the rose of her watering can over each with a
kind of ritual, like what I have since seen the priests use in Catholic
churches. Then she kneeled down and prayed--yes, prayed to the lilies.
Actually I saw her--and so did Elsie.

But that was not all. Out of the house there came a company of three
other women, one behind the other. They had their hair down their
backs, and long cloaks with gold and silver patches covered them. Each
was carrying something narrow and black in her arms. At first they
were too far away for us to see clearly, but as they came nearer, I
gasped and caught at Elsie's hand. The long black things were little,
tiny coffins, neatly modelled, and covered with black cloth all
complete with fringe, name-plates, and cords. A little to the side,
capering and dancing, flinging his legs high in the air, and blowing a
merry marching tune on a soldier's clarionet, pranced Daft Jeremy.
Every now and then he would stop blowing to give the brass instrument a
shake. Then he would laugh and egg on the women with the coffins to
dance also. But they went along quite peaceably, keeping their
countenances wonderfully, and making quaint signs with their hands.
They marched round and round, the idiot laughing and blowing while the
elder woman with the gardening spud went on praying, paying no
attention whatever to them, till they came to a rude altar, just two
upright posts and a stone laid across them, quite at the end of the
garden, opposite to where we were.

Upon this they laid the coffins down, and the women-creatures kneeled.
But the monster with the clarionet leaped up between the coffins nimbly
as a jackanapes, crossed his legs, and began to play.

Now I cannot tell whether it was because of the little elevation on the
crossbar of the altar which enabled him to spot us, or if I moved; but
in another instant Mad Jeremy seemed to spring down, swift and
unexpected, and before we could move, he had jerked out a big "gully"
knife, and rushed to the canal bank, leaped into the middle, driving
the black scum of the water every way, and almost before we could think
he was upon us.

The madman made for me first with the big kni