en, Elbert your faery grandson...."

But Lady Arabel still sobbed.

CHAPTER X

THE DWELLER ALONE

"Well, Sarah Brown, here we are," said the witch, her Byronic hair
flying as she sat perilously on the rail of the deck. The distant flying
buttresses of New York were supporting a shining sky, and north and east
lay the harbour and sea, and many ships moving with the glad gait of
home-comers after perilous voyaging.

Every minute upon the sea is a magic minute, but the voyage of the witch
and Sarah Brown had been unmarked by any supernatural activities on the
part of the witch. She had been more or less extinguished by the
presence of five hundred Americans, not one of whom had ever heard the
word "magic" used, except by advertisers in connection with their wares.

Miss Ford had been left behind, cured for ever of nerve-storms. She had
become unexpectedly engaged to Mr. Bernard Tovey while looking for a
porter on Lime Street Station, Liverpool, and had returned with him to
London to celebrate the event by means of a Super-Wednesday. The Mayor
also had failed to embark. Indeed the unfortunate man had not been
heard of since his seizure on the night of the fire, and I believe that
the London police are still trying to arrest him as a German spy.

"Here we are," said the witch to Sarah Brown. "At least, I suppose this
City on its Tiptoes is New York. Do you think I ought to call the
attention of the Captain to that largish lady on our left, who seems to
be marooned upon a rock, and signalling to us for help?"

"That is the Statue of Liberty," said three neighbouring Americans in
chorus.

"How d'you mean--Liberty?" asked the witch.

The three Americans froze her with three glances.

"America is the home of Liberty," they said all together.

"Oh yes, of course, how stupid of me," said the witch. "I ought to have
remembered that every country is the Home of Liberty. Such a pity that
Liberty never seems to begin at home. Every big shop in London, you
know, is labelled Patronised by Royalty, yet I have bought haberdashery
by the hour without running across a single queen. I suppose if you
didn't have this big label sticking up in your harbour, you Americans
might forget that America is the Home of Liberty. I know quite a lot
about America from a grey squirrel who rents my may-tree on Mitten
Island. It is a long time since he came over, but he still chitters with
a strong New England accent. He came away becau