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Granny looked so angry that Janet hastened to appease her.

“Oh, please forgive me–I meant no offence. Only–it must have cost you much trouble to make it.”

Granny chuckled again. She was vastly pleased to see a Sparhallow suing to her–a Sparhallow!

“Toads am cheap,” she said. “It’s all in the knowing how and the time o’ the moon. Here, take this li’l pill box–there’s eno’ in it–and put a li’l bit on his eyelids when you’ve getten the chance–and when he looks at you, he’ll love you. Mind you, though, that he looks at no other first–it’s the first one he sees that he’ll love. That’s the way it works.”

“Thank you.” Janet took the little box. She wished she dared to go at once. But perhaps this would anger Granny. Granny looked at her with a twinkle in her little, incredibly old eyes.

“Be off,” she said. “You’re in a hurry to go–you’re as proud as any of the proud Sparhallows. But I bear you no grudge. I likes proud people–when they have to come to me to get help.”

Janet found herself outside with a relieved heart in her bosom and her little box in her hand. For a moment she was tempted to throw it away. But no–Randall would be so unhappy if he found out Avery didn’t love him! She would try the ointment at least–she would try to forget about the toads and not let herself think how it was made–something might come of it.

* * * * *

Janet hurried home along the shore, where a silvery wave broke in a little lovely silvery curve on the sand. She was so happy that her cheeks burned, and Randall Burnley, who was sitting on the edge of her flat when she reached the pond, looked at her with admiration. Janet dropped her box into her pocket stealthily when she saw him. What with her guilty secret, she hardly knew whether she was glad or not when he said he was going to row her up the pond.

“I saw you go down an hour ago and I’ve been waiting ever since,” he said. “Where have you been?”

“Oh–I just–wanted a walk–this lovely day,” said Janet miserably. She felt that she was telling an untruth and this hurt her horribly–especially when it was to Randall. This was what came of truck with witches–you were led into falsehood and deception straightaway. Again Janet was tempted to drop Granny’s pill box into the depths of Burnley Pond–and again she decided not to because she saw Randall Burnley’s deep-set, blue-grey eyes, that could look tender or sorrowful or passionate or whimsical as he willed, and thought how they would look when he found Avery did not love him.

So Janet drowned the voice of conscience and was brazenly happy–happy because Randall Burnley rowed her up the pond–happy because he walked halfway home with her over the autumnal fields–happy because he talked of the day and the sea and the golden weather, as only Randall could talk. But she thought she was happy because she had in her pocket what might make Avery love him.

Randall went as far as the stile in the birch wood between the Burnley and the Sparhallow land–and he kept her there talking for another half-hour–and though he talked only of a book he had read and a new puppy he was training, Janet listened with her soul in her ears. She talked too–quite freely; she was never in the least shy or tongue-tied or awkward in Randall’s company. There she was always at her best, with a delightful feeling of being understood. She wondered if he noticed she had her hair done up. Her eyes shone and her brown face was full of rosy, kissable hues. When he finally turned away homeward, life went flat. Janet decided she was very tired after her long walk and her trying interview. But it did not matter, since she had her love potion. That was so much nicer a name than toad ointment.