incantation--the songs sounded like one--and stepped forth.

"Oh!" said Miss Greeby, stepping back, "I am disappointed."

She had every reason to be after the picturesqueness of the camp in
general, and Chaldea in particular, for Mother Cockleshell looked like a
threadbare pew-opener, or an almshouse widow who had seen better days.
Apparently she was very old, for her figure had shrivelled up into a
diminutive monkey form, and she looked as though a moderately high wind
could blow her about like a feather. Her face was brown and puckered and
lined in a most wonderful fashion. Where a wrinkle could be, there a
wrinkle was, and her nose and chin were of the true nutcracker order, as
a witch's should be. Only her eyes betrayed the powerful vitality that
still animated the tiny frame, for these were large and dark, and had in
them a piercing look which seemed to gaze not at any one, but through
and beyond. Her figure, dried like that of a mummy, was surprisingly
straight for one of her ancient years, and her profuse hair was scarcely
touched with the gray of age. Arrayed in a decent black dress, with a
decent black bonnet and a black woollen shawl, the old lady looked
intensely respectable. There was nothing of the picturesque vagrant
about her. Therefore Miss Greeby, and with every reason, was
disappointed, and when the queen of the woodland spoke she was still
more so, for Mother Cockleshell did not even interlard her English
speech with Romany words, as did Chaldea.

"Good day to you, my lady, and to you, sir," said Mother Cockleshell in
a stronger and harsher voice than would have been expected from one of
her age and diminished stature. "I hope I sees you well," and she
dropped a curtsey, just like any village dame who knew her manners.