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playroom again. Jess and Frank followed, feeling mean and big.
    Jess said, “I don’t think it would work, making her die. She’d not be able to take it off then. She said—” Jess looked at Frank. It had been nasty, the way Biddy had said never .
    Frank shivered. “Jenny,” he asked. “What’s your heirloom? Or don’t you know?”
    Frankie answered, because Jenny had her odd apron to her face and was giving out shuddering sniffs into it. “It’s an emerald necklace,” she said. “Mine’s diamonds. Only it went. All the things went.”
    â€œWent where?” said Jess.
    Jenny shook her covered face. “Don’t know. They went. Mother went, too.” She gave a big muffled yell, and the whole of her shook.
    Frank fidgeted. Everything about these little girls seemed odder every second. He felt he could hardly bear another minute in that gloomy room with the big wheel blocking the window. “Well, the best thing would be to get it back,” he said, “but if you can’t, we’ll have to think of something else to do to her.”
    â€œMake her break her leg,” said Frankie.
    â€œOr something,” Jess said, as cheerfully as she could. “We’ll do something, provided you stop calling after Martin Taylor.”
    â€œAll right,” Frankie agreed. “We’ll stop, then. It’s worth it, isn’t it, Jenny?”
    Jenny, with her face still covered, nodded violently.
    Jess and Frank escaped from the damp house and went home by the road, in the hurling wind. They were so relieved to be outside again that Jess sang and whirled her arms as they went.
    â€œAt least we’ve fixed Martin,” she said.
    â€œFor no money,” Frank said. “Isn’t that paint lady their mother, then?”
    â€œNo. She’s their aunt,” said Jess. “But Daddy knows Mr. Adams. He’s a bit strange, too. Frank, let’s put Biddy off and stay closed for today. I’ve had enough of Own Back for now.”
    â€œI’ve had so much enough,” said Frank, “that I wouldn’t mind closing down for good.”
    â€œWe’ll do that,” said Jess. “We’ll just polish off this bit of business, and then we’ll close down.”

FOUR
    The next morning, Frank and Jess were in the potting shed discussing what to do about Biddy. While they talked, Jess carefully wrote out a very elaborate curly notice, which was to read CLOSED FOR GOOD . She had so far only got to FOR , and neither of them could think what to do to Biddy.
    â€œAn eye for an eye,” said Frank. “What about a foot for a foot? Suppose I went and stamped on her toe?”
    â€œShe might turn you purple,” said Jess. “She might even be a witch. What did they use to do to witches in the olden days?”
    â€œDuck them in a pond,” said Frank. “Could we push her in the river?”
    â€œFlop,” said Jess. “Squelch. She’d lose her glasses. And she’d be mad , Frank.”
    â€œI thought you said she was, anyway,” Frank was saying, when there was a hurried dull thumping on the path outside and the window of the shed was darkened.
    â€œMartin Taylor!” Jess sprang up eagerly and hastened to the window. “At least we can tell him he’s all right,” she said as she pushed it open.
    But Martin, it seemed, had not come for his Own Back. He leaned down from his pony to look in the window, and they could tell by his face that something or other was wrong. “Can you two come to the Lodge?” he said. “Vernon’s waiting there. He’ll explain. But we thought you ought to see Silas.”
    â€œSee Silas !” said Jess. “Whatever for?”
    â€œOh, I can’t explain,” Martin said. “Just come and see.” And before they could ask him more, he was gone again, with a further swift thumping and a scatter of