“Now, if Mary were here,” thought Billie, “she would at once make a story of this: ‘The Princess and the Old Witch.’ I am sure Mary would call me a princess,” she added modestly.
When the young girl and the old witch met, they paused without exactly knowing why. The herb gatherer had a strange, small, yellow face, crossed and re-crossed with wrinkles.
“Good afternoon,” said Billie politely, not knowing what else to say.
The old woman waved aside this greeting with her stick.
“You come from Sunrise Camp?” she asked in a voice as cracked as her face was wrinkled.
Billie nodded.
“I bring message. You look for somebody?”
“Yes,” replied Billie eagerly.
“You not find him now. Too much enemies.”
“Where is he?” she demanded.