ere a mother and two daughters. The
name of this mother was Perrotine Massy. One of the daughters was
_enceinte_, and was delivered of a child even in the midst of the
flames. As the old chronicle expresses it, "_Son ventre eclata_." The
new-born infant rolled out of the fiery furnace. A man named House took
it in his arms; but Helier Gosselin the bailli, like a good Catholic as
he was, sternly commanded the child to be cast again into the fire.

III

FOR YOUR WIFE: WHEN YOU MARRY

We must return to Gilliatt.

The country people told how, towards the close of the great Revolution,
a woman, bringing with her a little child, came to live in Guernsey. She
was English, or perhaps French. She had a name which the Guernsey
pronunciation and the country folks' bad spelling had finally converted
into "Gilliatt." She lived alone with the child, which, according to
some, was a nephew; according to others, a son or grandson; according to
others, again, a strange child whom she was protecting. She had some
means; enough to struggle on in a poor way. She had purchased a small
plot of ground at La Sergentee, and another at La Roque Crespel, near
Rocquaine. The house of the Bu de la Rue was haunted at this period. For
more than thirty years no one had inhabited it. It was falling into
ruins. The garden, so often invaded by the sea, could produce nothing.
Besides noises and lights seen there at night-time, the house had this
mysterious peculiarity: any one who should leave there in the evening,
upon the mantelpiece, a ball of worsted, a few needles, and a plate
filled with soup, would assuredly find, in the morning, the soup
consumed, the plate empty, and a pair of mittens ready knitted. The
house, demon included, was offered for sale for a few pounds sterling.
The stranger woman became the purchaser, evidently tempted by the devil,
or by the advantageous bargain.

She did more than purchase the house; she took up her abode there with
the child; and from that moment peace reigned within its walls. The Bu
de la Rue has found a fit tenant, said the country people. The haunting
ceased. There was no longer any light seen there, save that of the
tallow candle of the new comer. "Witch's candle is as good as devil's
torch." The proverb satisfied the gossips of the neighbourhood.

The woman cultivated some acres of land which belonged to her. She had a
good cow, of the sort which produces yellow butter. She gathered her
white be