“If I help you,” she ses at last, “will you promise to keep it a dead secret and do exactly as I tell you?  If you don’t, dead pigs’ll be nothing to the misfortunes that you will ’ave.”

“I will,” ses Joe Barlcomb, very pale.

“The spell,” ses Mrs. Prince, holding up her ’ands and shutting ’er eyes, “was put upon you by a man.  It is one out of six men as is jealous of you because you’re so clever, but which one it is I can’t tell without your assistance.  Have you got any money?”

“A little,” ses Joe, anxious-like—­ “a very little.  Wot with the yellow jaundice and other things, I——­”

“Fust thing to do,” ses Mrs. Prince, still with her eyes shut, “you go up to the Cauliflower to-night; the six men’ll all be there, and you must buy six ha’pennies off of them; one each.”

“Buy six ha’pennies?” ses Joe, staring at her.

“Don’t repeat wot I say,” ses Mrs. Prince; “it’s unlucky.  You buy six ha’pennies for a shilling each, without saying wot it’s for.  You’ll be able to buy ’em all right if you’re civil.”

“It seems to me it don’t need much civility for that,” ses Joe, pulling a long face.

“When you’ve got the ha’pennies,” ses Mrs. Prince, “bring ’em to me and I’ll tell you wot to do with ’em.  Don’t lose no time, because I can see that something worse is going to ’appen if it ain’t prevented.”

“Is it anything to do with my wife’s mother getting worse?” ses Joe Barlcomb, who was a careful man and didn’t want to waste six shillings.

“No, something to you,” ses Mrs. Prince.

Joe Barlcomb went cold all over, and then he put down a couple of eggs he’d brought round for ’er and went off ’ome agin, and Mrs. Prince stood in the doorway with a cat on each shoulder and watched ’im till ’e was out of sight.

That night Joe Barlcomb came up to this ’ere Cauliflower public-house, same as he’d been told, and by-and-by, arter he ’ad ’ad a pint, he looked round, and taking a shilling out of ’is pocket put it on the table, and he ses, “Who’ll give me a ha’penny for that?” he ses.

None of ’em seemed to be in a hurry.  Bill Jones took it up and bit it, and rang it on the table and squinted at it, and then he bit it agin, and turned round and asked Joe Barlcomb wot was wrong with it.

“Wrong?” ses Joe; “nothing.”

Bill Jones put it down agin.  “You’re wide awake, Joe,” he ses, “but so am I.”

“Won’t nobody give me a ha’penny for it?” ses Joe, looking round.

Then Peter Lamb came up, and he looked at it and rang it, and at last he gave Joe a ha’penny for it and took it round, and everybody ’ad a look at it.

[Illustration:  “He took it round, and everybody ’ad a look at it.”]

“It stands to reason it’s a bad ’un,” ses Bill Jones, “but it’s so well done I wish as I’d bought it.”

“H-s-h!” ses Peter Lamb; “don’t let the landlord ’ear you.”