The light from the fire shed a dull red glow over Old Nancy, and looking at her Molly thought she had the sweetest face she had ever seen. Though much wrinkled, her skin was clear and her expression full of kindliness and quiet strength. Her hair was pure white and peeped out from beneath a snowy mob cap. “Oh, do please wake up,” said Molly, laying her hand on Old Nancy’s lap. Old Nancy stirred, turned her head from side to side and gave a great sigh; then she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze travelled from Molly to Jack, and then on to Glan. She sat up. Then passed her hand across her eyes and stared, dazed, in front of her for a moment. Her glance came back to Molly. “Who are you?” she said, in a low voice. “And what’s the matter?” It was Glan who answered. “The sun has set,” he said gravely, “and you were asleep.” With a cry Old Nancy started to her feet. “No, no, Glan; it can’t be true!” she exclaimed. “Oh, what have I done! What have I done! It cannot be sunset yet.” She crossed hurriedly to the window and peered through. A glance at the darkening countryside was sufficient. She turned away, and creeping back to her chair sank into it and buried her face in her hands. There was a dead silence in the room. A cinder fell out of the fire on to the red hearth. “Well, well.” Glan cleared his throat and tried to speak cheerfully. “What isn’t well must be made well, you know. No good crying over spilt milk, Old Nancy. Come, come, snap your fingers at adversity, you know. We must all put our heads together and see what we can do. What’s the best thing to do first?” he smiled bravely, and Jack and Molly took heart and things looked brighter, although they scarcely knew what all the trouble meant. “Is it back then?” asked Old Nancy, raising her head. “The Pumpkin?—yes, it’s back,” said Glan. “Then there’s not a moment to be lost,” said Old Nancy firmly, and with an effort she pulled herself together and sat up straight. “How did it happen—your going to sleep?” inquired Glan. “I don’t know,” said Old Nancy, with a puzzled frown. “Never have I missed doing the spell at sunset. I think I must have been ... drugged. The Pumpkin must still have a few followers in the country—perhaps one of them drugged me—but I don’t know how they did it, they must have chosen the opportunity carefully, so that I fell asleep just before sunset.... I remember looking out and seeing the sun about half an hour before sunset time: and then I sat down for a few minutes ... and I don’t remember anything more. When did the Pumpkin come back?” “About half an hour ago,” said Glan. “He came through the tree,” said Jack, “and we followed him.”