rmost ends of the earth away from me.'

'How awful! What did you do, Phil?'

'Do? I rode off at five in the morning to talk to Master Jerry, with a
new lash on my whip. Oh, I was furious! Witchmaster or no Witchmaster, I
meant to--'

Ah! what's a Witchmaster?'

'A master of witches, of course. I don't believe there are witches; but
people say every village has a few, and Jerry was the master of all ours
at Marklake. He has been a smuggler, and a man-of-war's man, and now he
pretends to be a carpenter and joiner--he can make almost anything--but
he really is a white wizard. He cures people by herbs and charms. He can
cure them after Doctor Break has given them up, and that's why Doctor
Break hates him so. He used to make me toy carts, and charm off my warts
when I was a child.' Philadelphia spread out her hands with the delicate
shiny little nails. 'It isn't counted lucky to cross him. He has his
ways of getting even with you, they say. But I wasn't afraid of Jerry!
I saw him working in his garden, and I leaned out of my saddle and
double-thonged him between the shoulders, over the hedge. Well, my dear,
for the first time since Dad gave him to me, my Troubadour (I wish you
could see the sweet creature!) shied across the road, and I spilled out
into the hedge-top. Most undignified! Jerry pulled me through to his
side and brushed the leaves off me. I was horribly pricked, but I didn't
care. "Now, Jerry," I said, "I'm going to take the hide off you first,
and send you to Lewes afterwards. You well know why."

'"Oh!" he said, and he sat down among his bee-hives. "Then I reckon
you've come about old Cissie's business, my dear." "I reckon I justabout
have," I said. "Stand away from these hives. I can't get at you there."
"That's why I be where I be," he said. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Phil,
I don't hold with bein' flogged before breakfast, at my time o' life."
He's a huge big man, but he looked so comical squatting among the hives
that--I know I oughtn't to--I laughed, and he laughed. I always laugh at
the wrong time. But I soon recovered my dignity, and I said, "Then give
me back what you made poor Cissie steal!"

'"Your pore Cissie," he said. "She's a hatful o' trouble. But you shall
have 'em, Miss Phil. They're all ready put by for you." And, would you
believe it, the old sinner pulled my three silver spoons out of his
dirty pocket, and polished them on his cuff. "Here they be," he says,
and he gave them to me, just