At these last words the sword of the Samurai shot forward at lightning speed with its precious burden, and never stopped till they arrived at the Emerald Isle.
CHAPTER XXIV.
BIDDY-BE-SURE, THE IRISH WITCH
IT was raining. It sometimes dies in the Emerald Isle; but the country looked wonderfully green and fresh and beautiful.
It somehow reminded Coppertop of a lovely lady, a lady who was weeping, always weeping, yet smiling at times at her own tears; a lady with great, tragic, blue eyes and black lashes, which weeping could not spoil.
When the children arrived upon the magic sword, at the cabin of Biddy-be-sure, they were surprised to hear a good-natured voice from within saying—
“Come in! Come in, me dears!”
“She seems to expect us!” cried Coppertop.
“Witches are always like that!” explained Tibbs; “they can see right through walls and things without using their eyes.”