was that scared that I ran down, got hold of Sam, for Jakes said he
wouldn't go out with all them trees a-flying about in the air like
straws--no, not for a thousand pounds, and off we set after her." Here
Pigott paused to groan at the recollection of that walk.

"Well," said Mr. Fraser, who was rather interested--everything about
this queer child interested him; "where did you find her?"

"Well, sir, you know where the old wall runs out into the water,
before Caresfoot's Staff there? Well, at the end of it there's a post
sunk in, with a ring in it to tie boats to. Now, would you believe it?
out there at the end of the wall, and tied to the ring by a scarf
passed round her middle, was that dreadful child. She was standing
there, her back against the post, right in the teeth of the gale, with
the spray dashing over her, her arms stretched out before her, her hat
gone, her long hair standing out behind straight as an iron bar, and
her eyes flashing as though they were on fire, and all the while there
were the great trees crashing down all round in a way enough to make a
body sick with fright. We got her back safe, thank God; but how long
we shall keep her, I'm sure I don't know. Now she is drowning herself
in the lake, for she takes to the water like a duck, and now breaking
her neck off trees, and now going to ghosts in the churchyard for
company. It's wearing me to the bone--that's what it is."

Mr. Fraser smiled, for, to tell the truth, Pigott's bones were pretty
comfortably covered.

"Come," he said, "you would not part with her for all her wicked
deeds, would you?"