look into the pan where the charmed cream
should be. She would not acknowledge that the cream was the same as all
the rest was: and indeed it was not quite the same, for the points of
poor Lorna's diamonds had made a few star-rays across the rich firm
crust of yellow.

But when we raised the pannikin, and there was nothing under it, poor
Annie fell against the wall, which had been whitened lately; and her
face put all the white to scorn. My love, who was as fond of her, as if
she had known her for fifty years, hereupon ran up and caught her, and
abused all diamonds. I will dwell no more upon Annie's grief, because we
felt it all so much. But I could not help telling her, if she wanted a
witch, to seek good Mother Melldrum, a legitimate performer.

That same night Master Jeremy Stickles (of whose absence the Counsellor
must have known) came back, with all equipment ready for the grand
attack. Now the Doones knew, quite as well as we did, that this attack
was threatening; and that but for the wonderful weather it would have
been made long ago. Therefore we, or at least our people (for I was
doubtful about going), were sure to meet with a good resistance, and due
preparation.

It was very strange to hear and see, and quite impossible to account
for, that now some hundreds of country people (who feared to whisper
so much as a word against the Doones a year ago, and would sooner have
thought of attacking a church, in service time, than Glen Doone) now
sharpened their old cutlasses, and laid pitch-forks on the grindstone,
and bragged at every village cross, as if each would kill ten Doones
himself, neither care to wipe his hands afterwards. And this fierce
bravery, and tall contempt, had been growing ever since the news of the
attack upon our premises had taken good people by surprise; at least as
concerned the issue.

Jeremy Stickles laughed heartily about Annie's new manner of charming
the cream; but he looked very grave at the loss of the jewels, so soon
as he knew their value.

"My son," he exclaimed, "this is very heavy. It will go ill with all of
you to make good this loss, as I fear that you will have to do."

"What!" cried I, with my blood running cold. "We make good the loss,
Master Stickles! Every farthing we have in the world, and the labour of
our lives to boot, will never make good the tenth of it."

"It would cut me to the heart," he answered, laying his hand on mine,
"to hear of such a deadly blow to y