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it?’
    ‘It’s jolly interesting.’
    ‘Hmm - I wish it worked. I’d get you to put a spell on Winkley.’
    ‘Who’s he?’
    ‘My bank manager.’ Mr Bennet tapped the letter, ‘I’ve got to see him
this afternoon about my overdraft.’
    Carrot was just going to ask him what an overdraft was, when Sam came in
looking very harassed. ‘You’d better come, boss,’ he said, ‘I’ve just culled
twenty-three birds. It’s sinovitis again.’
    ‘Oh Lord!’ groaned Mr Bennet, getting up from the table, ‘I’m beginning
to think there’s a curse on this place.’
    ‘A curse!’ said Carrot excitedly.
    ‘We’ve got a budding wizard in the family, Sam,’ Mr Bennet explained as
they hurried out, ‘for this week anyway.’
    Carrot searched through his book. ‘ “The power of the Evil Eye”,’ he
read eagerly, ‘ “Secret names were used to call up demons to destroy one’s
enemies.” ’ He picked up Beelzebub, who stuck his head quickly back inside his
shell. ‘Come on Beelzy! I bet Catweazle knows all about curses. Let’s go and
ask him!’
    Leaving the farm, Carrot ran across the fields, carrying Beelzebub and
some provisions for Catweazle in his rucksack. He had been to the water tank
several times since the old man had made his home there, usually taking him
food and bottles of milk.
    As he reached the top of the ladder he could hear Catweazle muttering to
himself inside:
     
    ‘Hob-hole hob, Hob-hole hob.
    Tak’t off, tak’t off.
    Old one, cold one,
    Cure my bone-ache.’
     
    Carrot took off his rucksack, eased himself through the inspection hole
and climbed down into the tank. ‘ ’Morning, Catweazle,’ he said.
    Catweazle paused, about to drink from an old baked-bean tin while
Touchwood looked on beadily.
    ‘What have you got there?’ asked Carrot, looking at the nasty mess in
the tin.
    ‘A potion for bone-ache,’ said the old man. ‘I forgot the earwigs,’ he added.
Carrot sniffed the revolting mixture.
    I think I’d rather have bone-ache,’ he said.
    ‘Would that I had my book,’ Catweazle muttered.
    ‘I’ve got one,’ said Carrot, producing Magic through the Ages. Catweazle grabbed it eagerly. He looked blankly at the pages, and tried turning
it upside down, but he still couldn’t read it, so he gave it back to Carrot.
    ‘ ’Tis in thy magic writing,’ he said, ‘not mine.’
    Carrot carefully took Beelzebub from the rucksack and held him up. ‘Meet
my familiar,’ he said.
    Catweazle fizzed in sudden alarm. ‘A stone with legs!’ he cried.
    ‘His name’s Beelzebub,’ said Carrot, putting the tortoise down next to
Touchwood, who eyed him suspiciously. ‘Here, have a banana.’
    Catweazle took the curved yellow thing from the boy, holding it carefully
in case it was dangerous.
    ‘You eat it,’ said Carrot. ‘But you peel it first!’ he added quickly, as
Catweazle prepared to take a bite.
    Carrot peeled back a strip of the skin, but before he could stop him,
Catweazle pulled it from the banana and started to chew it greedily.
    ‘Not that bit!’ said Carrot, ‘the middle bit.’
    Catweazle ate the banana in silence. He enjoyed it tremendously.
    ‘You seem to be settling in all right,’ said Carrot, handing him the
rest of the bunch.
    ‘Ay, boy. Last night I found some sacks.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In thy barn,’ Catweazle leered, and peeled another banana. Carrot was
very indignant. ‘We’ve got enough trouble without you stealing,’ he said.
‘Dad’s got an overdraft.’
    ‘Over draft?’
    ‘It’s something to do with money.’
    ‘Money?’
    Carrot sighed. ‘It’s jolly difficult even to talk to you sometimes. The
farm’s had a lot of bad luck, you see. Dad thinks there’s a curse on the
place.’
    ‘Most like. Most like,’ said Catweazle, gobbling the banana.
    ‘D’you know anything about curses?’
    ‘Saucey snail! I know everything about curses. There is a curse for
everything. They were all in my book,’ he said bitterly.
    ‘If the