Witch's Business Read Free Page B

people shouted “Sweet Fanny Adams!” after them sometimes, because they were so odd and because the younger one walked with a limp.
    â€œDo you mean this notice?” asked the elder one.
    â€œYes,” said Jess. “Of course. You don’t think we put it up for fun, do you?” She was being rather haughty with them, partly because they were so peculiar, and partly because she was afraid they were going to make fun of Own Back like everyone else.
    But the two little girls were in deadly earnest. The elder said: “And when you say difficult tasks, you mean that, too?”
    â€œYes,” said Frank. “But the price goes up if it’s really difficult.”
    They nodded. “This is,” said the elder, and Frank felt rather mean. They did not look as if they had much money. They wore funny patched aprons, like Victorian children, and their faces were thin and hungry. Their two pairs of big eyes stared at Frank and Jess like a picture of famine.
    â€œWhat do you want us to do?” said Frank.
    â€œGet us our Own Back,” said the elder.
    â€œOn Biddy Iremonger. She’s a witch,” said the younger.
    â€œI don’t think she is ,” said Jess. “Mummy says she’s just a poor old creature, and a bit wrong in the head.”
    â€œYes, she is ,” said the elder. “She put the evil eye on Jenny last summer, and Jenny’s foot’s been all wrong ever since.”
    â€œThe doctor says it’s nothing,” said Jenny, “but I can’t walk and she did it.”
    â€œAnd,” said Frances, “if you can do her down, we’ve got a gold sovereign that belongs to us and we’ll give it you. Promise.”
    Frank and Jess were both dismayed. The little girls stared so intensely—and the idea of a whole gold sovereign was overpowering. The worst part was how much they seemed to mean what they said.
    Frank asked feebly, “What do you want done to her?”
    â€œAnything,” said Frances.
    â€œEverything,” said Jenny.
    â€œSuppose,” said Jess, trying to be businesslike, “we get her and make her take it off Jenny. Would that do?”
    They nodded fervently. “But if she won’t,” said Frances, “do something nasty to her instead. Very nasty.”
    â€œAll right,” said Frank. “If you want.”
    â€œThank you,” they both said and, before Jess could think to make further arrangements, they hurried away down the path. Frances pulled Jenny, and Jenny did indeed limp badly.
    â€œOh, dear!” said Jess, and then, after a moment, “It’s probably only rheumatism. Mummy always says how damp that house looks.”
    â€œJess,” said Frank, “we can’t go and—and do things to Biddy Iremonger, can we? Even if she is a witch.”
    â€œBut she’s not,” said Jess. “It’s just them. Biddy’s only funny in the head. And I don’t think we can take their sovereign, anyway. It’s not money any longer, is it?”
    â€œSo what had we better do?” Frank said helplessly. “Go and talk to Biddy? It worked with Vernon.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Jess. “Maybe if Jenny thinks it’s Biddy, then if we can get Biddy to say she’s taken it off somehow, Jenny might feel better. Would that work?”
    Someone else was reading their notice while Jess talked. Frank happened to look sideways, and saw a horse—or perhaps a pony—outside, with a boy on its back who was bending down to read the notice. “Except it wouldn’t be Own Back,” Frank said, watching to see if they had another customer. But it seemed they had not. The boy’s smart boots moved against the pony, and the pony went on past the window. Jess looked up, hearing the hooves. “Who was that?” Frank asked.
    â€œThat’s the boy from the big house,” said Jess. “Where the Wilkinses