and a gaping fire-place. On one side of the fire-place sat the yellow
woman, young, with traces of beauty, holding the white child in her
arms; on the other, hugging the blaze, huddled a formless heap, wreathed
in coils of tobacco smoke--Elspeth, Zora's mother.

Zora said nothing, but glided in and stood in the shadows.

"Good-evening," said Bles cheerily. The woman with the baby alone
responded.

"I came for the seed you promised us--the cotton-seed."

The hag wheeled and approached him swiftly, grasping his shoulders and
twisting her face into his. She was a horrible thing--filthy of breath,
dirty, with dribbling mouth and red eyes. Her few long black teeth hung
loosely like tusks and the folds of fat on her chin curled down on her
great neck. Bles shuddered and stepped back.

"Is you afeared, honey?" she whispered.

"No," he said sturdily.

She chuckled drily. "Yes, you is--everybody's 'feared of old Elspeth;
but she won't hurt you--you's got the spell;" and wheeling again, she
was back at the fire.

"But the seed?" he ventured.

She pointed impressively roofward. "The dark of the moon, boy, the dark
of the moon--the first dark--at midnight." Bles could not wring another