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her.’
    ‘Steal
it!’ Carrot was shocked, ‘couldn’t we just sort of borrow it and give it back
afterwards?’
    ‘Afterwards,’
said Catweazle grimly, ‘she may not need it!’
    Carrot
led the way back to the farm with considerable misgivings. The farm buildings
gave them excellent cover and they managed to creep quite close to the house,
where they hid behind some bags of fertilizer, only a few yards from the car.
    Catweazle
blew on his thumb-ring. ‘Gab, gaba, agaba,’ he said to the car.
    ‘There
might be something in the glove-compartment that would do,’ whispered Carrot,
and then ducked down as his father and Miss Bonnington came out of the house.
    ‘I really
will do my best, George,’ she gushed.
    ‘I’ll
have my fingers crossed,’ said Mr Bennet, smiling as he opened the car door for
her. Miss Bonnington put her handbag into the car and then stopped. ‘Silly old
me,’ she said, ‘I’ve forgotten the eggs!’ Mr Bennet roared with laughter as if
it was the funniest thing he had ever heard and the two of them went back into
the house.
    The car
door was open and the handbag lay on the seat. Carrot felt terrible. He had
never done anything like this before, but he had to save his father, so he ran
over to the car and grabbed the bag. Catweazle followed and climbed over the
seat to get a little red devil mascot that was hanging in the rear window.
Carrot was still struggling to open the handbag when he heard Miss Bonnington
and his father returning, so he threw it back on the seat and raced for cover.
    ‘About
nine I should think,’ said Miss Bonnington as she reached the car, with her
basket of eggs.
    ‘I
shall be waiting,’ said his father.
    Carrot
was horrified. Catweazle was still in the car! He watched with dismay as it
roared out of the yard, and, as his father went back into the house, he leapt
on his bike and pursued Miss Bonnington up the lane.
    The
hairdresser’s, Dorrice and Jayne, was at the far end of Westbourne High Street.
Miss Bonnington’s car was parked nearby and as Carrot cycled up, Catweazle’s
terrified face appeared at the window. He opened the door quickly and the old
man fell out on to the pavement.
    ‘Oh,
oh!’ he moaned, ‘trees rushing past like storm clouds!’
    ‘Did
you get anything?’
    ‘Nay,
my brother! She was protected by Lucifer.’ Catweazle held up the red devil
mascot.
    ‘So we
can’t use this as a thing or knick-knack?’
    ‘Nay,
’tis a charm.’
    Carrot led
him over to the hairdresser’s. ‘She’s in there,’ he said. They looked in. The
young receptionist sat at a small desk reading a magazine called True Love, and
behind her, through a partition, several ladies draped in pink sat under the
driers.
    ‘ ’Tis
a torture chamber!’ the magician said with horror.
    ‘No
it’s not. It’s a hairdresser’s. They cut people’s hair.’
    ‘Monstrous!
Monstrous!’ muttered the sorcerer, ‘Hair is magic; ’tis strength! Whoever hath
thy hair hath power over thee!’
    Carrot
looked at him and then peered through the window to where Miss Bonnington sat
having her hair trimmed. Small pieces of hair fell to the floor.
    ‘You’ve
given me an idea,’ he said to Catweazle.
    Inside
Dorrice and Jayne’s Miss Bonnington turned to the occupant of the next chair.
‘You’ll be at the meeting, Mrs Willoughby?’ she asked coldly.
    ‘I
certainly will,’ replied Mrs Willoughby, who was also having her hair trimmed.
    ‘We can
look forward to a long session then,’ said Miss Bonnington, and then broke off
in surprise when she saw Carrot at her elbow.
    ‘Good
heavens, Edward,’ she said, ‘I didn’t really mean you to come!’
    There
was a sudden commotion from the receptionist’s desk and a thin squeal of alarm.
A moment later Catweazle rushed in through the partition and raised his arms
above his head.
     

     
    ‘Foolish
wenches!’ he yelled, dancing madly and waving his skinny arms. ‘Three bitter
bitter hath thee bitten,’ he