A
DAUGHTER OF WITCHES.
A
Daughter of Witches
A ROMANCE
BY
JOANNA E. WOOD
AUTHOR OF
‘THE UNTEMPERED WIND,’ ‘JUDITH MOORE,’ ETC.
W. J. GAGE & COMPANY
LIMITED
TORONTO
Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the office of the
Minister of Agriculture, by W. J. Gage & Co. (Limited), in the
year one thousand nine hundred.
CHAPTER I.
Miss Temperance Tribbey stood at the back doorof the old Lansing house, shading her eyes withone hand as she looked towards the gate to discoverwhy Grip, the chained-up mastiff, was barking soviciously.
The great wooden spoon, which she held in herother hand, was dripping with red syrup, and showedthat Temperance was preserving fruit. To the eyesof the initiated there were other signs of her occupation.Notably a dangerous expression in her eyes.The warmth of the stove was apt to extend to MissTribbey’s temper at such times.
Sidney Martin, coming up the avenue-like lane tothe farm-house, did not observe Miss Tribbey standingat the back door, although she saw him; and,therefore, much to his own future detriment andpresent prejudice in Miss Tribbey’s eyes, he went[2]to the front door, under its heavy pillared porch, andknocked. After he had vanished round the cornerof the house towards the ill-chosen door, Miss Tribbeywaited impatiently for the knock, calculatingwhether she could safely leave her fruit on the firewhilst she answered it.
The knock did not come. Muffled by the heavydoor, its feeble echo was absorbed by the big roomsbetween the front door and the kitchen.
“Well!” said Temperance, “has he gone toHeaven all alive, like fish goes to market, or is hegot a stroke?”
The cat arched its back against Miss Tribbey’sskirts and so shirked the reply which clearly devolvedupon it, there being no other living creature visiblein the big kitchen.
“It’s as bad as consumpting to have a man hangingover a body’s head like this,” continued Temperance.“My palpitations is coming on! If I’mtook with them and that fruit on the fire, along ofa man not knowing enough to knock!”
The fruit in the big copper kettle began to riseinsidiously towards the brim.
“I’ll just go and take a speck at him through theshutters,” said she.
She crossed the kitchen, but ere she left it, longhousewifely habit made her “give a look to the stove.”The burnished copper kettle was domed by a greatcrimson bubble, raised sphere-like by the steam.
“My soul!” said Temperance, and took a flightacross the kitchen, lifting the heavy pot with onesweep from the fire to the floor. The dome quivered,rose a fraction and collapsed in a mass of rosy foam.
The crisis was past, and just then the expectedknock came.
Temperance drew a long breath.
“There!” she said, “that jell’s done for! I’ll haveto stand palavering with some agent chap or book-canvasserwith my jell a-set