st
dodging the sofa pillow aimed at his head by Herbie.

Hopie, leaning back comfortably against the side of the fireplace,
heaved a sigh of contentment.

"Got a tummy ache?" asked Reddy.

"Nope, just enjoying myself," was the answer as he took another bite
from his piece of taffy.

"What'll we do next?" inquired Chuck, turning to Father Brown.

"I'm expecting a witch at nine o'clock to tell fortunes," was the reply.
"I hope she doesn't disappoint us."

"A witch," shrieked Fat in a high, thin voice, making believe to be very
much alarmed. "I hope she won't change me into a snake."

"Oh, you'd make a better turtle--you're so fond of walking slow,"
laughed Linn.

"She'll turn Herbie into a sleeping Prince, and Mary Lee will be the
Princess who kisses him and wakes him up," said Chuck, teasingly, at
which all the boys roared with laughter.

As Herbie started off after Chuck a merry chase followed which the
other boys enjoyed, at times holding Chuck until Herbie was almost upon
him and then letting him go, only to catch Herbie and hold him in turn.
Suddenly in the midst of the uproar there came a sharp rap on the door.

"One--two--three."

"Hush," whispered Chuck, "it's the witch."

[Illustration: "Three cheers for Hopie!" shouted all the boys.]

CHAPTER V

THE WITCH TELLS FORTUNES

"Come in," invited Father and the boys, standing in a group watching the
knob of the door turn slowly. As it opened silently they saw standing on
the threshold a little, old woman, all bent over, a long black cape and
hood covering her from head to foot. She carried a cane with a crook in
it and leaned very heavily upon it as she walked.

Muttering to herself she crossed the room and took a seat by the fire.
Her coarse, gray hair fell in straggly locks about her face almost
hiding it from view.

Suddenly the lights went out, leaving the room in darkness, save for the
firelight.

"Place the pot before me," she ordered, in a high, broken voice, shaking
her stick at Fat.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Fat, hurrying to obey.

"She's got Fat scared to death," giggled Toad to Reddy.

From under her cape she now took a small paper bag and poured the
contents into the pot before her, then standing up she hobbled around it
three times, waving her arms and humming a queer little tune. Soon a
dull red light glowed from within the pot, getting brighter and
brighter.

"It's magic," whispered Toad to Hopie Smith.

The old witch no