"No!"

"What then in the fiend's name is to prevent his taking his seat
to-morrow?" impatiently demanded the manager.

"An evil so dire, so awful, so mysterious, that its like never happened
on this earth!"

"Arrest her, Mr. Ryland! She ought to be locked up until she could be
sent to the asylum!" exclaimed old Marwig.

"I have no power to do so, my friend," replied the manager.

"Why, where is she?" inquired Mrs. Bounce, trembling. "Who saw her go?"

No one answered, but every one looked around. Not a trace of the witch
could be seen. She had passed like a dark cloud from among them, and was
gone.

It was a glorious day in June. A long, deep, green valley lay low
between two lofty ridges of the Cumberland mountains, running north and
south for ten miles, and near the boundary lines of three States. This
lovely vale was watered by a merry, sparkling little river called the
Whirligig, which furnished the power for the huge machinery of the great
firm of Rockharrt & Sons, proprietors of the Plutus iron mines and the
North End foundries, which supplied the mighty engines on the great
lines of railroad from the East to the West, and whose massive
buildings, forges, furnaces, store-houses and laborers' cottages
occupied all the ground between the foot of the mountain and the banks
of the river, on both sides of the Whirligig, at the upper or north end