reath away. A thin, dark, unpleasing gentleman suddenly popped out
of a bower of flowering nightshade, and said:

'And what can we do for you to-day, miss?'

'I want a spell, if you please,' said Lucy; 'the best you can do for
tuppence.'

'Is that all you've got?' said he.

'Yes,' said Lucy.

'Well, you can't expect much of a spell for that,' said he; 'however,
it's better that I should have the tuppence than that you should; you
see that, of course. Now, what would you like? We can do you a nice
little spell at sixpence that'll make it always jam for tea. And I've
another article at eighteenpence that'll make the grown-ups always think
you're good even if you're not; and at half a crown----'

'I've only got tuppence.'

'Well,' he said crossly, 'there's only one spell at that price, and
that's really a tuppenny-half-penny one; but we'll say tuppence. I can
make you like somebody else, and somebody else like you.'

'Thank you,' said Lucy; 'I like most people, and everybody likes me.'

'I don't mean _that_,' he said. 'Isn't there someone you'd like to hurt
if you were as strong as they are, and they were as weak as you?'

[Illustration: '"And what can we do for you to-day, Miss?"'--Page
170.]

'Yes,' said Lucy in a guilty whisper.

'Then hand over your tuppence,' said the dark gentleman, 'and it's a
bargain.'

He snatched the coppers warm from her hand.

'Now,' he said, 'to-morrow morning you'll be as strong as Harry, and
he'll be little and weak like you. Then you can hurt him as much as you
like, and he won't be able to hurt back.'

'Oh!' said Lucy; 'but I'm not sure I want----I think I'd like to change
the spell, please.'

'No goods exchanged,' he said crossly; 'you've got what you asked for.'

'Thank you,' said Lucy doubtfully, 'but how am I----?'

'It's entirely self-adjusting,' said nasty Mr. Doloro. 'No previous
experience required.'

'Thank you very much,' said Lucy. 'Good----'

She was going to say 'good-morning,' but it turned into 'good gracious,'
because she was so very much astonished. For, without a moment's
warning, the flower-shop had turned into the sweet-shop that she knew so
well, and nasty Mr. Doloro had turned into the sweet-woman, who was
asking what she wanted, to which, of course, as she had spent her
twopence, the answer was 'Nothing.' She was already sorry that she had
spent it, and in such a way, and she was sorrier still when she got
home, and Harry owned handsomely th