Her voice was like nothing so much as the crackling of dry wood in a brisk fire.
“Never mind what I know nor how I know it,” she went on, answering my thought before I spoke. “What would you give to know where and how to obtain the thread which will hold the button?”
“Anything!” I cried. “That is, almost anything.”
“Would you marry?”
I thought of the adorable young lady whom I had seen the night before.
“Willingly!” I said. “That is,—yes, I think—”
“Then I will tell you the condition on which you may have the thread. You must marry me.”
I looked at the frightful old creature; then I laughed and laughed; I could not help it. She arose in a great fury, grasped the crooked stick which she bore with her, and hobbled toward the door.
“You shall never find it!” she said. “No, never! You shall be a black and penniless outcast! You shall wish you had never been born! You are lost, lost, lost!”
That terrible prospect sobered me. If this woman could by any chance save me from such a fate, what price would be too great?