"'Mint, darling,' she replied with a laugh, and continued: 'On the south side of the mountain, where the springs moisten and soften the soil, it lifts its green head out of the earth as soon as the frost leaves the ground.'
"She lowered her hand to her big pocket as she ceased speaking and drew from its mighty depth two great, round pop-corn balls, that were dripping with honey and of the deep crimson color of ripe cherries. Placing one in the hand of each of the children, she glanced down upon them with a happy smile, as she exclaimed:
"'There, darlings. These are flavored with mint that I gathered only yesterday. Taste them and see what you think of the flavor.'
"The two children were delighted with the sweet gift, but though it pleased them greatly, they could not keep their envious eyes from the pennyroyal, for they knew that the time thus spent in delay meant a terrible whipping and a much more-to-be-dreaded night with the rats and mice in the attic.
"Seeming to notice the troubled look on their little faces, 'Aunt Twaddles' exclaimed:
"'Now, darlings, I know these mountains as well as you know yonder streets of the village; and if you will take a short journey with me, I will gather you enough pennyroyal to last the wheezy, old Inn-keeper for the rest of his life.' And without waiting for them to reply, she gathered her big bag of herbs into her arms and arose, as if ready to start.
"Little Arthur looked up, amazed at her words, while Maud could scarcely believe her ears, so great was the promise of her dear, old, kind-hearted friend. Well did they recall the long, sorrowful journeys they had often made into the mountains in a vain search for the scarce herb;—journeys that were followed by terrible beatings. The mere thought of gathering enough pennyroyal to last their cruel old grandfather for the rest of his life made their little hearts fairly leap with joy."
"'Come, Maudie,' cried Arthur, as he leaped to his feet, 'let us go.'
"In a second the children were standing beside 'Aunt Twaddles' who, after shouldering her big bag of herbs, led the way.
"They journeyed along down the bank of the river past the end of the foot-bridge that led from the village, when, pausing at the foot of the dangerous path on the face of the cliff, 'Aunt Twaddles' rested her herb-bag on the ground for a moment, and, glancing first at the tall mountain and then at the children, she exclaimed, with a somewhat doubtful shake of her head: