of what avail to communicate the anguish of her heart to anyone, when nothing could be done to alter the circumstances. She could not now draw back. Indeed it never occurred to her to be possible to go back from her undertaking. To save Jamie from an idiot asylum she had passed her word to give her hand at the altar to Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt Dionysia trusted her word. Coppinger held to it, knowing that she gave it on compulsion and reluctantly, yet he showed his perfect confidence in its security.
"My dear Judith," said Mr. Menaida, "I am so sorry about losing you, and what is more, losing Jamie, for I know very well that when he is at the Glaze he will find plenty to amuse him without coming to see me, or any-how, coming to work with me."
"I hope not, dear uncle."
"Yes, I lose a promising pupil." Then turning to the boy, he said: "Jamie, I hope you will not give up stuffing birds, or, if you have not the patience to do that, that you will secure the skins and prepare them for me."
"Yes, I will," said Jamie.
"Yes, yes, my dear boy," said Menaida, "but don't you fancy I am going to trust you with arsenic for preparing the skins. I shall give that to your sister and she will keep the supply, eh, will you not, Judith?"
"Yes. I will take charge of it."
"And let him have it as needed; never more than is needed."
"Why not?" asked Jamie.
"Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying about." Menaida ran into the workshop, and came back with a small tin box of the poison. "Look here! here is a little bone spoon. Don't get the powder over your fingers. Why, a spoonful would make a man very ill, and two would kill him. So, Judith, I trust this to you. When Jamie has a skin to prepare he will go to you, and you will let him have only so much as he requires."
"Yes, uncle."
She took the little tin of arsenic and put it in her workbox, under the tray that contained reels and needles.
