ter of
her shop. She was the manageress of the only shop on Mitten Island. It
was a general shop, but made a speciality of such goods as Happiness and
Magic. Unfortunately Happiness is rather difficult to get in war-time.
Sometimes there was quite a queue outside the shop when it opened, and
sometimes there was a card outside, saying politely: "Sorry, it's no use
waiting. I haven't any." Of course the shop also sold Sunlight Soap, and
it was with Sunlight Soap that the shop-lady was washing her hair,
because it was Sunday, and this was a comparatively cheap amusement. She
had no money. She had meant to go down to the offices of her employer
after breakfast, to borrow some of the salary that would be due to her
next week. But then she found that she had left her broomstick
somewhere. As a rule Harold--for that was the broomstick's name--was
fairly independent, and could find his way home alone, but when he got
mislaid and left in strange hands, and particularly when kindly finders
took him to Scotland Yard, he often lost his head. You, in your
innocence, are suggesting that his owner might have borrowed another
broomstick from stock. But you have no idea what arduous work it is,
breaking in a wild broomstick to the saddle. It sometimes takes days,
and is not really suitable work for a woman, even in war-time. Often the
brutes are savage, and always they are obstinate. The shop-lady could
not afford to go to the City by Tube, not to mention the ferry fare,
which was rather expensive and erratic, not being L.C.C. Of course a
flash of lightning is generally available for magic people. But it is
considered not only unpatriotic but bad form to use lightning in
war-time.

The shop was not expecting customers on Sunday, but its manageress had
hardly got her head well into the basin when somebody entered. She stood
up dripping.

"Is Miss Thelma Bennett Watkins at home?" asked Sarah Brown, after a
pause, during which she made her characteristic effort to remember what
she had come for.

"No," said the other. "But do take a seat. We met last night, you may
remember. Perhaps you wouldn't mind lending me one-and-twopence to buy
two chops for our luncheon. I've got an extra coupon. There's tinned
salmon in stock, but I don't advise it."

"I've only got sevenpence, just enough to take me home," answered Sarah
Brown. "But I can pawn my ear-rings."

I dare say you have never been in a position to notice that there is no
pawn-shop