THE SOCIETY FOR PIRATICAL RESEARCH
They were in a dark and narrow passage-way. As they stood huddled there together, a candle glimmered at the end of the passage, held in a tremulous hand, and lighting up the face of a very old woman. She advanced towards the party by the door, and holding her candle high above her head inspected the strangers with little blinking watery eyes. She was short and bent; she hobbled as she came forward; her face was seamed with deep wrinkles, and the hand which held the candle was knotted and gnarled; wisps of dirty grey hair hung over her eyes.
"Aha! Mother Ketch," said Captain Lingo. "I wager thou didst not expect us so soon. What's in the larder? We are famished."
Old Mother Ketch looked at her son, the Practitioner, and nodded her head at him once or twice, blinking her eyes. Then she fixed her eyes on Aunt Amanda, and seemed to forget everybody else.
"Well? well?" said Captain Lingo, impatiently. "Art going to keep us here all night? Come, woman! Speak up directly! What's for supper, eh?"
Mother Ketch slowly removed her eyes from Aunt Amanda, and looked at the captain steadily.
"There's nought but pigeons and mushrooms and—" said she.
"Good!" said the captain. "Then we will have pigeon pies; one for each; and well filled, mind you. Now haste; be off."
Mother Ketch turned and hobbled slowly down the passage, and the glimmer of her candle disappeared.