looked more resentful than ever, but Vernon laughed. “So then you don’t need to say which Wilkins,” he said. “That’ll settle it.”
“But it’s still not fair,” said Jess. “Because you’ve lost five pence.”
Frank wished Jess would not always find something to argue about, particularly things which were quite true. He remembered Mr Prodger said Vernon needed money. “I tell you what,” he said to Vernon, “when we’ve earned some money out of Own Back, we’ll pay you back. OK?”
“Fine,” said Vernon. “Maybe I’ll send you a customer.”
“That’ll be lovely,” said Jess. She disentangled herself from the little sister, who showed an inclination to roar like Silas. Vernon had to pick her up. Then the Piries mounted their bicycles and pedalled home with the tooth, rather perplexed to find that, far from earning any money, they were now five pence in debt again.
“Well,” said Frank, trying to look on the bright side, “we’ve got it down by half. Maybe we’ll get it down to two pence with the next customer.”
“Only if whoever it is pays us real three pence,” said Jess.
Nevertheless, when, a quarter of an hour later, the gang began to muster in the path by the allotments, grinning, flourishing sticks and plainly ready to give those purple Piries lawfully what-for, Frank felt it was worth five pence. They waited until Buster himself hammered on the window. Then Jess shoved it open in his face and held out the tooth in a silver-paper tart-dish.
“There you are,” she said triumphantly. “Wilkins’ tooth, just as you said.”
Buster glowered at it, then at Jess and Frank. “I bet it’s purple not. It’s one of yours.”
“It is not, then,” said Jess. “Look.” And she bared her teeth at him. “See. No gaps.”
“Then it’s one you kept. Or one of his,” said Buster.
Frank came up and bared his teeth too. Luckily, he had no gaps, and only one tooth loose, at the back.
“And we always burn ours,” said Jess. Then, because a horrid thought struck her, she left Frank to do the talking.
Buster looked incredulously from the tooth to Frank, and back again. “This is Wilkins’ tooth?” he said. “Honour bright and may you die?”
“Honour bright and may I die,” said Frank. “If you want it, take it. And don’t forget I don’t owe you ten pence now.”
“No. All right. I let you off,” said Buster. He was too astonished, and too respectful, even to swear. He took the tooth. Frank slammed the window on him, and on all the gang crowding round to inspect the tooth and exclaim as if they had never seen one before.
“That’s that!” said Frank thankfully.
“Oh, I do hope so,” said Jess, “because I’ve just realised Vernon hasn’t any gaps either, and – and—”
“That’s his look-out,” said Frank. “If he’s got any sense he’ll paint one out or something.”
Jess had not the heart to speak of her really horrid idea just then. Instead, she watched the gang moving unusually quietly away along the allotments, and tried to think on the bright side. “There is one thing, Frank. If they think you can knock out Vernon’s tooth, they won’t bother you again.”
Unfortunately, she was completely wrong.
After the affair of Wilkins’ tooth, both Frank and Jess had secretly had enough of Own Back, but since they owed Vernon five pence, there was nothing for it but to stay in business for another day at least. So they sat in the shed for the third day and, all the while, Jess worried about Silas Wilkins’ tooth. She had lain awake at night worrying. Now, that morning, she just had to tell Frank her horrid idea.
“Frank, I wish we hadn’t given them the tooth. I keep thinking of witch doctors. You know, when they want to hurt a person, they take a tooth or just a hair from the person, and do awful things to it. Suppose Buster does? And then it’ll be poor little Silas who suffers, not Vernon at all.”
“But it’s not real,” Frank said uneasily. “They always tell you witch doctors can’t really do magic – only that people think they can. Anyway, you know what that gang’s like. They’re bound to lose it before they decide what to do with it. Or they’ll get them mixed up and magic Buster’s.”
“Oh,” said Jess. “I do hope they do. And give Buster face-ache for weeks.”
“Months,” said Frank, who had suffered a great deal more from Buster than Jess had. He was thinking of saying that Own Back could offer to do the magicking, and get the teeth mixed on purpose, when Jess noticed that someone was tapping on the window.
She jumped up to open it. Frank followed her, and found two pale little girls outside, hand in hand, their hair flapping in the wind, looking up anxiously at the window. He knew them a little by sight. They were the funny, old-fashioned girls who lived at the one house you could see from the potting shed – the cheese-coloured one. He knew the elder one was called Frances Adams, because people shouted “Sweet Fanny Adams!” after them sometimes, because they were so odd and because the younger one walked with a limp.
“Do you mean this notice?” asked the elder one.
“Yes,” said Jess. “Of course. You don’t think we put it up for fun, do you?” She was being rather haughty with them, partly because they were so peculiar, and partly because she was afraid they were going to make fun of Own Back like everyone else.
But the two little girls were in deadly earnest. The elder said: “And when you say difficult tasks, you mean that too?”
“Yes,” said Frank. “But the price goes up if it’s really difficult.”
They nodded. “This is,” said the elder, and Frank felt rather mean. They did not look as if they had much money. They wore funny patched aprons, like Victorian children, and their faces were thin and hungry. Their two pairs of big eyes stared at Frank and Jess like a picture of famine.
“What do you want us to do?” said Frank.
“Get us our Own Back,” said the elder.
“On Biddy Iremonger. She’s a witch,” said the younger.
“I don’t think she is,” said Jess. “Mummy says she’s just a poor old creature, and a bit wrong in the head.”
“Yes she is,” said the elder. “She put the Evil Eye on Jenny last summer, and Jenny’s foot’s been all wrong ever since.”
“The doctor says it’s nothing,” said Jenny, “but I can’t walk and she did it.”
