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White Magic
by
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Janet never lost much time in carrying out any resolution she made. The next afternoon she slipped away to visit Granny Thomas. She put on her longest dress and did her hair up for the first time. Granny must not think her a child. She rowed herself down the long pond to the row of golden-brown sand dunes that parted it from the gulf. It was a wonderful autumn day. There were wild growths and colours and scents in sweet procession all around the pond. Every curve in it revealed some little whim of loveliness. On the left bank, in a grove of birch, was Randall’s new house, waiting to be sanctified by love and joy and birth. Janet loved to be alone thus with the delightful day. She was sorry when she had walked over the stretch of windy weedy sea fields and reached Granny’s little tumbledown house at the Cove–sorry and a little frightened as well. But only a little; there was good stuff in Janet; she lifted the latch boldly and walked in when Granny bade. Granny was curled up on a stool by her fireplace, and if ever anybody did look like a witch, she did. She waved her pipe at another stool, and Janet sat down, gazing a little curiously at Granny, whom she had never seen at such close quarters before.
Will I look like that when I am very old? she thought, beholding Granny’s wizened, marvellously wrinkled face. I wonder if anybody will be sorry when you die.
“Staring wasn’t thought good manners in my time,” said Granny. Then, as Janet blushed crimson under the rebuke, she added, “Keep red like that instead o’ white, and you won’t need no love ointment.”
Janet felt a little cold thrill. How did Granny know what she had come for? Was she a real witch after all? For a moment she wished she hadn’t come. Perhaps it was not right to tamper with the powers of darkness. Peggy Buchanan was notoriously unhappy. If Janet had known how to get herself away, she would have gone without asking for anything.
Then a sound came from the lean-to behind the house.
“S-s-h. I hear the devil grunting like a pig,” muttered Granny, looking very impish.
But Janet smiled a little contemptuously. She knew it was a pig and no devil. Granny Thomas was only an old fraud. Her awe passed away and left her cool Sparhallow.
“Can you,” she said with her own directness, “make a–a person care for another person–care–very much?”
Granny removed her pipe and chuckled.
“What you want is toad ointment,” she said.
Toad ointment! Janet shuddered. That did not sound very nice. Granny noticed the shudder.
“Nothing like it,” she said, nodding her crone-like old grey head. “There’s other things, but noan so sure. Put a li’l bit–oh, such a li’l bit–on his eyelids, and he’s yourn for life. You need something powerful–you’re noan so pretty–only when you’re blushing.”
Janet was blushing again. So Granny thought she wanted the charm for herself! Well, what did it matter? Randall was the only one to be considered.
“Is it very–expensive?” she faltered. She had not much money. Money was no plentiful thing on a P.E.I. farm in 1840.
“Oh, noa–oh, noa,” Granny leered. “I don’t sell it. I gives it. I like to see young folks happy. You don’t need much, as I’ve said–just a li’l smootch and you’ll have your man, and send old Granny a bite o’ the wedding cake and fig o’ baccy for luck, and a bid to the fir-r-st christening! Doan’t forget that, dearie.”
Janet was cold again with anger. She hated old Granny Thomas. She would never come near her again.
“I’d rather pay you its worth,” she said coldly.
“You couldn’t, dearie. What money could be eno’ for such a treasure? But that’s the Sparhallow pride. Well, go, see if the Sparhallow pride and the Sparhallow money will buy you your lad’s love.”