“Nice place,” Michael remarked as he hid the boots inMrs. Fairfax’s hedge.

Sophie agreed. The house was the biggest in the village. It wasthatched, with white walls between the black beams, and, and Sophieremembered from visits as a child, you walked up to the porch througha garden crowded with flowers and humming with bees. Over the porchhoneysuckle and a white climbing rose were competing as to whichcould give most work to the bees. It was a perfect, hot summermorning down here in Upper Folding.

Mrs. Fairfax answered the door herself. She was one of thoseplump, comfortable ladies, with swathes of butter-colored hair coiledround her head, who made you feel good with life just to look at her.Sophie felt just the tiniest bit envious of Lettie. Mrs. Fairfaxlooked from Sophie to Michael. She had seen Sophie last a year ago asa girl of seventeen, and there was no reason for her to recognize heras an old woman of ninety. “Good morning to you,” shesaid politely.

Sophie sighed. Michael said, “This is Lettie Hatter’sgreat-aunt. I brought her to see Lettie.”

“Oh, I thought the face looked familiar!” Mrs. Fairfaxexclaimed. “There’s quite a family likeness. Do come in.Lettie’s little bit busy just now, but have some scones andhoney while you wait.”

She opened her front door wider. Instantly a large collie dogsqueezed past Mrs. Fairfax’s skirts, barged between Sophie andMichael, and ran across the nearest flower bed, snapping off flowersright and left.

“Oh, stop him!” Mrs. Fairfax gasped, flying off inpursuit. “I don’t want him out just now!”

There was a minute or so of helter-skelter chase, in which the dogran hither and thither, whining in a disturbed way, and Mrs. Fairfaxand Sophie ran after the dog, jumping flower beds and getting in oneanother’s way, and Michael ran after Sophie crying,“Stop! You’ll make yourself ill!” Then the dog setoff loping round one corner of the house. Michael realized that theway to stop Sophie was to stop the dog. He made a crosswise dashthrough the flower beds, plunged round the house after the dog, andseized it by two handfuls of its thick coat just as it reached theorchard at the back.

Sophie hobbled up to find Michael pulling the dog away backwardand making such strange faces at her that she thought at first he wasill. But he jerked his head so often toward the orchard that sherealized he was trying to tell her something. She stuck her faceround the corner of the house, expecting to see a swarm of bees.

Howl was there with Lettie. They were in a grove of mossy appletrees in full bloom, with a row of beehives in the distance. Lettiesat in a white garden seat. Howl was kneeling on one knee in thegrass at her feet, holding one of her hands and looking noble andardent. Lettie was smiling lovingly at him. But the worst of it, asfar as Sophie was concerned, was that Lettie did not look like Marthaat all. She was her own extremely beautiful self. She was wearing adress of the same kind of pinks and white as the crowded appleblossom overhead. Her dark hair trailed in glossy curls over oneshoulder and her eyes shone with devotion for Howl.

Sophie brought her head back round the corner and looked withdismay at Michael holding the whining collie dog. “He must havehad a speed spell with him,” Michael whispered, equallydismayed.

Mrs. Fairfax caught them up, panting and trying to pin back aloose coil of her buttery hair. “Bad dog!” she said in afierce whisper to the collie. “I’ll put a spell on you ifyou do that once more!” The dog blinked and crouched down. Mrs.Fairfax pointed a stern finger. “Into the house! Stay in thehouse!” The collie shook himself free of Michael’s handsand slunk away round the house again. “Thank you somuch,” Mrs. Fairfax said to Michael as they all followed it.“He will keep trying to bite Lettie’s visitor.Inside!” she shouted sternly in the front garden, as the collieseemed to be thinking of going round the house and getting theorchard the other way. The dog gave her a woeful look over itsshoulder and crawled dismally indoors through the porch.

“That dog may have the right idea,” Sophie said.“Mrs. Fairfax, do you know who Lettie’s visitoris?”

Mrs. Fairfax chuckled. “The Wizard Pendragon, or Howl, orwhatever he calls himself,” she said. “But Lettie and Idon’t let on we know. It amused me when he first turned up,calling himself Sylvester Oak, because I could see he’dforgotten me, though I hadn’t forgotten him, even though hishair used to be black in his student days.” Mrs. Fairfax by nowhad her hands folded on front of her and was standing bolt upright,prepared to talk all day, as Sophie had often seen her do before.“He was my old tutor’s very last pupil, you know, beforeshe retired. When Mr. Fairfax was alive he used to like me totransport us both to Kingsbury to see a show from time to time. I canmanage two very nicely if I take it slowly. And I always used to dropin on old Mrs. Pentstemmon while I was there. She likes her oldpupils to keep in touch. And one time she introduced this young Howlto us. Oh, she was proud of him. She taught Wizard Suliman too, youknow, and she said Howl was twice as good—”

“But don’t you know the reputation Howl has?”Michael interrupted.

Getting into Mrs. Fairfax’s conversation was rather likegetting into a skipping rope. You had to choose the exact moment, butonce you were in, you were in. Mrs. Fairfax turned herself slightlyto face Michael.

“Most of it’s just talk to my mind,” she said.Michael opened his mouth to say that it was not, but he was in theskipping rope then and it went on turning. “And I said toLettie, ‘Here’s your big chance, my love.’ I knewHowl could teach her twenty times more than I could—for I don’tmind telling you, Lettie’s brains go way beyond mine, and shecould end up in the same league as the Witch of the Waste, only in agood way. Lettie’s a good girl and I’m fond of her. IfMrs. Pentstemmon was still teaching, I’d have Lettie go to hertomorrow. But she isn’t. So I said, ‘Lettie, here’sWizard Howl courting you and you could do worse than to fall in lovewith him yourself and let him be your teacher. The pair of you willgo far.’ I don’t think Lettie was too keen on the idea atfirst, but she’s been softening lately, and today it seems tobe going beautifully.”

Here Mrs. Fairfax paused to beam benevolently at Michael, andSophie dashed into the skipping rope for her turn. “But someonetold me Lettie was fond of someone else,” she said.

“Sorry for him, you mean,” said Mrs. Fairfax. Shelowered her voice. “There’s a terrible disabilitythere,” she whispered suggestively, “and it’sasking too much of any girl. I told him so. I’m sorry for himmyself—”

Sophie managed a mystified “Oh?”

“—but it’s a fearsomely strong spell. It’s verysad,” Mrs. Fairfax would on. “I had to tell himthere’s no way someone of my abilities can break anythingthat’s put on by the Witch of the Waste. Howl might, but ofcourse he can’t ask Howl, can he?”

Here Michael, who kept looking nervously to the corner of thehouse in case Howl came round it and discovered them, managed totrample through the skipping rope and stop it by saying, “Ithink we’d better be going.”

“Are you sure you won’t come in for a taste of myhoney?” asked Mrs. Fairfax. “I use it in nearly all myspells, you know.” And she was off again, this time about themagical properties of honey. Michael and Sophie walked purposefullydown the path to the gate and Mrs. Fairfax drifted behind them,talking away and sorrowfully straightening plants that the dog hadbent as she talked. Sophie meanwhile racked her brain for a way tofind out how Mrs. Fairfax knew Lettie was Lettie, without upsettingMichael. Mrs. Fairfax paused to gasp a bit as she heaved a largelupine upright.

Sophie took the plunge. “Mrs. Fairfax, wasn’t it myniece Martha who was supposed to come to you?”