But to brood on unpleasantness was not a habit of Melisande's. She went to the kitchen and asked if she might have supper with them instead of on a tray in her room.

Mr. Meaker was in doubt; he was not sure that that was right, and he had been in some very big houses. Mrs. Soady, flattered and delighted, said, Who was to know ? And it was a matter for Mamazel herself to decide. She set about making a special muggety pie for, as she confided to Mr. Meaker, she had heard that people set a powerful lot by French cooking, and she would show the little Mamazel that Cornwall could compete. Muggety couldn't fail to do this and there should be fair-maids to assist as well as a hog's pudding.

A place was found for Melisande at Mrs. Soady's right hand.

"We've got a guest to-night," said Mrs. Soady gleefully. "We must all be on our best behaviour like."

"No, no, no!" cried Melisande. "That I do not wish. I wish us to be ourselves. I am going to be very greedy, and I wish you to talk as though I am not here because I am so happy to listen."

There was much laughter and everybody was very happy. Squeals of delight went up when Mrs. Soady brought up a bottle of her best parsnip wine from the cellar.

"I hear the French be terrible wine drinkers," said Mrs. Soady, "and us mustn't forget we've got a French Mamazel at our table this day. Now, my dear, would 'ee like to start off with some of this here fair-maid? 'Tis our own dear little pilchards which I done in oil and lemon, and we do always say in these parts that it be food fit for a Spanish Don. Now, Mr. Meaker, pass the plates, do. I'm sure Mamazel wants to see us all do ourselves and the table justice."

"But this is delicious!" cried Melisande.

At first they all seemed a little abashed by her presence at the table, but after a while they accepted her as one of them and the conversation was brought to the subject of young Peg, who had fallen in love with one of the fishermen down on west quay and couldn't get the young man to look her way. Bet was urging her to go along to the white witch in the woods, adding that Mrs. Soady, who belonged to a pellar family, was surely the best one to consult about this.

"A white witch?" cried Melisande. "But what is this?"

Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Soady's explanation which was not long in coming. "Well, my dear, 'tis a witch and no witch. Not one of them terrible creatures as travel around on broomsticks and consort with the Devil ... no, not one of they. This is a good witch, a witch as will charm your warts away. You've no need to cross the fire hook and prong to keep off a white witch. They don't come interfering like. They do only help when you do go to them. They'll tell you how to find them as is ill-wishing you, or they can cure the whooping cough. They give you a love potion too and, my dear life, that's a thing to please some of the maidens."

"A love potion!" cried Melisande, her eyes sparkling. "You mean so that you can make the one you love love you! But that is a goodness. So a white witch will do that ? I wonder why Miss Caroline...." She stopped short.

There was silence about the table. They were accustomed to discussing the affairs of their employers, but they were not sure that they should do so with one whose station was midway between the drawing-room and the servants' hall.

Peg, Bet and the rest were waiting for a lead from Mrs. Soady or Mr. Meaker.

Mr. Meaker was for discretion, but Mrs. Soady—a member of a pellar family—was on her favourite subject, and this subject accompanied by a liberal supply of her own parsnip wine had excited her.

" 'Twouldn't do her no harm neither," she said.

The colour had risen to Melisande's cheeks. If Caroline could only make him love her as he should, there would be no need for her to think of going away from Trevenning. She could stay here, enjoying many of these informal suppers.

" 'Tis my belief," said Mr. Meaker, "that the gentry ain't got the way of going about these things. Charms don't work for the likes of them as they do for some."

"And 'tis easy to see why," said Mrs. Soady sharply. "They do approach in a manner of disbelief, and if that ain't enough to scarify the piskies away, I don't know what is."

"Mrs. Soady," cried Melisande, "you do believe in these piskies?"

"Indeed I do, my dear. And my very good friends they be. They do know me well as coming from a pellar family. Why, when I was staying awhile with my sister on the moors, I went out one day and the mist rose and, my dear soul, I were lost. Now, t'aint no picnic being lost on our moors. Out Caradon way this was, and I don't mind telling 'ee I was scared out of me natural. Then sudden like I thought of the piskies, so I sang out :

'Jack o' Lantern! Joan the Wad! Who tickled the maid and made her mad, Light me home; the weather's bad.'

"And do 'ee know, the mist cleared suddenly, but 'twas only where I was, and it didn't take me long to find my way home."

"Oh, please sing it again," pleaded Melisande. "Jack o' what is it?"

And Mrs. Soady sang it again; then the whole company chanted it, while the little Mamazel sang with them, trying to imitate their accents. Hers sent them into such fits of laughter that poor Peg nearly choked, and Bet grew so red in the face that the footman had to thump her on the back; as for Mr. Meaker, he had to have an extra glass of parsnip wine—he felt the need after the exhaustion he was suffering through laughing so much.

All this made everyone glad to have such a charming guest at the table, and they all set out to be as entertaining as they could.

Peg declared that she must go to the white witch, for she was sure young Jim Poldare would never look at her else. Then Mrs. Soady announced that Tamson Trequint, who lived in a little hut in Trevenning woods, was one of the best white witches she had ever come across. "Do 'ee remember my warts then? It was Tamson I went to on account of they. Where be they warts now ? You're at liberty to find 'em if you can. She said to me: 'Search among the pea pods, my dear, for one as contains nine peas. Take out the peas and throw them away ... one by one, and as you do it say: "Wart, wart, dry away!" And as them peas rot, my dear, so the warts will disappear.' "

"And did they?" asked Melisande.

"Not a sign of them from that day. And if that ain't white magic then tell me what is."

"Yes," said Peg, "but what about love potions, Mrs. Soady?"

"My dear life, you go along to see Tamson. It has to be after dark, remember. Tammy won't work a charm in daylight."

"But it is wonderful," murmured Melisande. "It is an ... excitement. Would Tamson work a spell for anyone? Would she work a spell for ... me?"

"Tamson could work a spell for the Queen. And a word from me, my dear, as belongs to a pellar family and has a footling for a sister ... why, my dear life, of course her'd work a spell for 'ee!"

"Who would you be wanting a spell for, Mamazel?" asked Peg.

They were all looking at her expectantly and the footman said: "I do reckon Mamazel's face and ways is as good as any potion."

"Now that's a very nice thing to have had said to 'ee, Mamazel," said Mrs. Soady.

"You are all so kind to me ... everyone. Here and in the town and the cliffs and the lanes ... everybody has a kindness for me." Melisande stretched out her arms as though to embrace them all; her eyes were shining with friendship and parsnip wine. "You invite me to your table. You give me this ... megettie ... and these delicious fair-maids ... you give me your parsnip wine ... and now your white witch, that I may drink, if I wish, a love potion."

Peg, who laughed every time Melisande spoke, went off into fresh convulsions. After they had thumped her out of them, Mrs. Soady said: "We'll open that other bottle of parsnip, I think, Mr. Meaker. 'Tis an occasion. We'll drink to Mamazel's health, and we'll hope that the love potion she gets from Tamson Trequint will give her the one she's set her heart on. And Peg shall have her fisherman too. That's what we'll be drinking to."

There was a sudden silence about the table. In the noise they had not noticed the door's being opened. Wenna had come into the room. She must have been leaning against the green baize door for some seconds while they had been unaware of her.

Melisande felt the black eyes burning as they rested upon her. They were like two fierce fires that would scorch through to her mind and discover what Wenna wanted to know of her.

"There was such a noise," she said. "I got to wondering what was happening."

They were all uncomfortable in the presence of Wenna—even Mrs. Soady and Mr. Meaker.

Mrs. Soady recovered her poise first. "Why don't 'ee sit down and try a bit of this muggety pie ? The crust be light as a feather. Peg, set another place do, girl, and don't forget the glass."

"Parsnip wine!" said Wenna, almost accusingly.

"It's what you might call a taster," said Mrs. Soady. "Just a little I put by when I was making my last. I reckoned it had matured just right and we was trying it."

Wenna was the spy. She would report to Miss Caroline anything of which she did not approve. The household was not what it had been in her ladyship's day. Mrs. Soady knew herself to be safe enough—although Miss Caroline could be spiteful—for she was forty-five and shaped like a cottage loaf and not the sort to trap Master Fermor into a bit of junketing in a dark corner. Peg had better look out—and even Bet. They were saucy girls, both of them; and Mrs. Soady wouldn't like to know—which meant she would— how far either of them had gone, inside the house or out. It was no use blaming them. There was some made that way. Peg was one and Master Fermor was another. She wasn't sure of the little Mamazel; but there was that in her to provoke such things—that was clear as daylight. And Wenna had overheard that bit about the love potion, and Wenna was an expert trouble-maker. Perhaps the little Mamazel had better be warned.