hink you considered the poor boy a wizard."

"You needn't lose your temper, Arabel," said Miss Ford coldly. "I only
meant that Richard might be useful, having so many friends, and such
skill in ... chemistry...." As if unconsciously she tore off one corner
of the packet of magic she held before adding: "And besides, as I have
often told you, I believe Richard to have real Occult Power, which would
give him a special interest in this case."

Sarah Brown, who was burying her face in her hands and missing much of
the conversation, caught the name of Richard, and said: "Richard has
gone to his True Love."

A tempest of restrained embarrassment arose.

"She's feverish," murmured Miss Ford, turning scarlet.

"My dear Sarah," said Lady Arabel tartly. "You are quite mistaken, and I
must beg of you to be careful how you repeat idle gossip about my son.
Rrchud is at his office. You know it is only open at night--one of
Rrchud's quaint fancies."

"I will ring up his office," said Miss Ford, deciding to ignore Sarah
Brown both now and in future. "Where is the telephone?"

"There is none," replied Sarah Brown. "This is the House of Living
Alone."

Miss Ford was pouring a grain or two of the magic into her palm. "How
very credulous people are," she said with a self-conscious smile. "If
Thelma Bennett Watkins were here she would credit this powder with--"

She stopped, for an astonishing sharp smell filled the Shop. Almost
immediately a curious wheezy sound, punctuated by taps, proceeded from
the corner. It was Mr. Bernard Tovey trying to sing, "Mon coeur s'ouvr'
a ta voix," and beating time by swinging his heels against the counter
on which he sat.

Sarah Brown felt suddenly well. She trembled but was well. She jumped
off the counter. "I will run across, if you like," she said, "and ring
up Richard from the ferryman's house. He may have left his True Love
now. I am not deaf on the telephone, and the ferryman won't admit
strangers."

As she left, the smell of magic was getting stronger and stronger. Mr.
Tovey, still impersonating Delilah in the corner, was approaching the
more excitable passages of the song. Miss Ford was saying, "Really,
Bernard...." Sarah Brown felt a slight misgiving.

A warm and rather dramatic-looking light was shining behind the red
curtain of the ferryman's lattice window, as Sarah Brown crossed the
moonlit road. She delighted, after her recent black hours, to think of
all those people in the wor