“All right. Do I light my candle first?”
“Yes.” The witch, who wanted to laugh herself and chuckled a little now over something Betty wondered about, held out a match.
Betty scratched the match on the rough stone of the basement’s big partition. It went out and so did a second one. There was a little draught somewhere, that made the curtain shake a little.
“Don’t let the third one go out,” warned the witch, now solemn and speaking with a deep voice. “When the third one fails, the bad luck hails!”
“How awful!” cried Betty, giggling as she struck the third match. But she held her hand so that the little flame was sheltered from the draught and the candle was lit successfully.
“Better watch the flame while you go behind the curtain,” suggested the witch in almost human tones, “and don’t set anything on fire. Here’s the mirror.”
Darkness met Betty as she passed beyond the curtain. She felt like examining the place, especially when she heard a door softly close. It seemed right by her—oh, her candle went out! Oh, but it was spooky. Well, she’d brace up, say her little charm and pretend when she went out that it had been all right.
“O Witches and Goblins, by this little light,
Please send me the face of my true love tonight!”
Betty’s voice was a little unsteady. It wasn’t any fun to be in this unknown spot all in the dark. That thick curtain behind her didn’t let in a bit of light. She’d wait just the appropriate moment when she would be supposed to look in the mirror and then wouldn’t she skip out!
But in that little moment a match struck close by her and while she could not help a low exclamation, her candle was lit for her and a voice whispered, “Good work. You didn’t squeal or anything. I was here just for fun, but I didn’t blow your candle out. I shut the door that had sprung open. See?”