Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

86 RAVENSHOE.
Densil said that his little bird was too positive. There was the
witch of Endor, for instance, -
Father Tiernay, who had been straining: his eyes and attention
at the movements of Charles and the greyhounds, and had only
caught the last word, said, with remarkable emphasis and distinctness,
"A broomstick of the Witch of Endor,
Well shod wi' brass,"
and then looked at Densil as though he had helped him out of a
difficulty, and wanted to be thanked. Densil continued, without
noticing him, -
" There was the witch of Endor. And'thou shalt not suffer a
witch to live.' If there were n't such things as witches, you know,
St. Paul would n't have said that."
" I don't think it was St. Paul, papa, was it?" said Mary.
"It was one of them, my love; and, for that matter, I consider
St. Peter quite as good as St. Paul, if not better. St. Peter was
always in trouble, I know; but he was the only one who struck
a blow for the good cause, all honor to him. Let me see, he married St. Veronica, did n't he?"
"Marry St. Veronica, virgin and martyr?" said the priest,
aghast. " My good sir, you are really talking at random."
" Ah, well, I may be wrong; she was virgin, but she was no
martyr."
" St. Veronica," said Father Tiernay, dogmatically, and somewhat sulkily, " was martyred under Tiberius; no less than
that."
" I bet you what you like of it," cried Densil, " she died-"
But what was Densil's opinion about the last days of St. Veronica will forever remain a mystery; for at this moment there
came a " See, HO!" from Charles; in the next a noble hare had
burst from a tangled mass of brambles at his feet; in another the
two dogs were on her haunches, and Charles, carrying two little
flags furled in his hand, had dashed at the rough rocks on the
bottom of the valley, had brought his horse on his nose, recovered
him, and was half way up the hill after the flying greyhounds.
It was but a short course. Puss raced for some broken ground
under the hill, opposite to where our party stood. She was too
close pressed, and doubled back for the open, but, meeting James,
turned, as a last, desperate chance, back to her first point. Too
late; the dogs were upon her. There was a short scuffle, and
then Charles, rising in his saddle, unfurled his blue flag, and
waved it.
"Hurrah! " cried Mary, clapping her hands; " two pairs of
gloves this morning! Where will he try now, I wonder? Here
comes James; let us ask him."