and ate them while the woman rose, shook the crumbs from her apron, and hung
above the fire a small black kettle.

Then she measured out equal parts of milk and vinegar and poured them into
the kettle. Next she



25
produced several packets of herbs and powders and began adding a portion of
each to the contents of the kettle. Occasionally she would draw near the
candle and read from a yellow paper the recipe of the mess she was
concocting.

As Tip watched her his uneasiness increased.

"What is that for?" he asked.

"For you," returned Mombi, briefly.

Tip wriggled around upon his stool and stared awhile at the kettle, which
was beginning to bubble. Then he would glance at the stern and wrinkled
features of the witch and wish he were any place but in that dim and smoky
kitchen, where even the shadows cast by the candle upon the wall were enough
to give one the horrors. So an hour passed away, during which the silence
was only broken by the bubbling of the pot and the hissing of the flames.

Finally, Tip spoke again.

"Have I got to drink that stuff?" he asked, nodding toward the pot.