-no methylated."

"Not really lucky," said Richard. "In France the smallest pinch of magic
seems to make the N.C.O. sick, and that's why I never got my stripe. To
keep my hand in, I once did a little stunt with the sergeant's
cigarette: it grew suddenly longer as he struck a match to light it, and
went on growing till he had to ask me to light it for him, and then it
shrank up and burnt his nose. Of course he couldn't really bring the
thing home to me, but somehow--well, as I say, I never got my stripe."

To this discussion, and indeed to all the enchantments, Lady Arabel paid
no attention, but continued to talk a little nervously on very insipid
subjects. Her eyes had the pathetic look often seen in stupid people's
eyes, the "Don't-listen-to-me" look, "I am not saying what I should like
to say. The real Me is better than this."

Finally Richard indulged in a trick that was evidently a stock joke
among magic people, for the witch laughed directly it began. Just as the
hostess, with poised fork and spoon, was about to distribute the
whitebait, the round table began to spin, and the whitebait were whisked
away from her. The table continued to spin for a moment, with a deep
thrilling organ sound, and when it stopped, the whitebait were found to
have assembled opposite to Richard's place. He distributed them gravely.
Lady Arabel turned scarlet, and murmured to Sarah Brown: "So dretfully
ingenious, and so merry."

Sarah Brown took pity on her, and began talking at random. The orchestra
was busy again, and to the tune of a loud elusive rag-time, she shouted:
"Do you know, I gave my job the sack this morning. I shall be on the
brink of starvation in three and a half days' time. That's counting a
box of Oxo Cubes I have by me. You don't happen to know of a suitable
job. I can't cook, and if I sew a button on it comes off quicker than if
I hadn't. But I once learnt to play the big drum."

"My dear," said Lady Arabel, instantly motherly. "How too dretful. I
wish I knew of something suitable. But--war-time you know,--I'm afraid I
shan't be justified in keeping on the orchestra, certainly not in adding
to it. Besides, of course, although women are simply too splendid
nowadays, don't you think the big drum--just a wee bit unwomanly, my
dear. However----"

"Are you clever?" asked Richard.

"Yes, she is," said the witch proudly. "She writes Minor Poetry. I saw a
bit by her in a magazine that had no pictures,--the bit of poetry