the street, they hurled themselves against the door of our house, as
Pamphila expected the young gentleman would do. You came up--just a
little intoxicated, eh?--and committed the horrible crime of
bag-slaughter."

"Now, don't make fun of me, Fotis," I said. "This is a serious matter,
this witchcraft. What is Pamphila doing to-night? I have come here to
learn magic, and I am very anxious to see her practising her strange
arts."

"Come, then, and look," said Fotis.

We crept to the room where Pamphila was, and peeped through a chink in
the door. The witch undressed herself, and then took some boxes of
ointment out of a casket, and opened one box and smeared herself with
the stuff it contained. In the twinkling of an eye, feathers sprouted
out of her skin, and she changed into an owl, and flew out of the
window.

"She has gone after that handsome young gentleman," said Fotis. "I have
to wait here all night until she returns, and then give her a lotion of
aniseed and laurel-leaves to restore her to her proper shape."

"Why, my dear Fotis," I exclaimed, in intense admiration, "you know as
much about witchcraft as your mistress! Come, practise on me! Get me
some of that ointment and change me into a bird. Oh, how I should like
to fly!"

After some hesitation she entered the room, and took a box out of the
casket. I stripped myself and smeared the ointment over my body. But