his rocky vault hung an electric light bulb,
which glared feebly through drifts of smoke. All around the walls were
wooden boxes, stacked up to make shelves and cupboards. These were
filled with an astonishing array of objects: bottles, vials, alembics,
retorts, test tubes, decanters, cages, boxes, jars, pots, skulls,
books, snake skins, wands, waxen images, pins and needles, locks of
hair, crystal balls, playing cards, dice, witch-hazel forks, tails of
animals, spices, bottles of ink in several colors, clay pipes, a
small brass scale, compasses, measuring cups, a piggy bank which
squealed off and on in a peevish way, balls of string and ribbons, a
pile of magazines called _The Warlock Weekly_, a broken ukulele,
little heaps of powder, colored stones, candle ends, some potted
cacti, and an enormous cash register. In the middle of the chamber a
little hideous crone in a Mother Hubbard crouched over a saucepan,
stirring it with a wooden spoon. The saucepan was resting in the coals
of an open fire, and smoke and steam together spread out in a murky,
foul-smelling fog.

The crone peered at them over the top of her spectacles and cackled,
"Come in, come in, dearies. I'll be with you as soon as ever I finish
this brew."

The Phoenix, who had been gazing around the chamber in surprise, said,
"My dear Banshee, since when have you taken up witchcraft? This is
most unexpected."

"Ah, 'tis the Phoenix!" exclaimed the hag, peering at them again.
"Well, fancy that now! Och, you may well ask, and I'll be telling you.
'Tis a poor life being a Banshee--long hours and not so much as
sixpence in it for a full night's work, and I got that sick of it! So
I changed me trade. 'Sure, you'll never make a go of it,' they told
me, 'and at your age,' they says, 'and once you've got your station
in life,' they says, 'there's no changing it.' 'It's in the prime of
me life I am,' says I, 'and I'll not be changing me mind for all your
cackling,' says I, 'and if certain mouths don't shut up,' says I,
'I'll cast spells that'll make certain people wish they were dead.'
That set them back on their heels, you may be sure. Well, 'twas the
best decision of me life. The money pours in like sorrows to a widow,
and I'll be retiring within the year to live out my days like a proper
queen."

Then the Banshee caught sight of David and hobbled over to him,
peering into his frightened eyes.

"Ah, the wee darling," she crooned, "the plump little mannikin. Wha