In the midst of all this Molly dropped to the ground and ran rapidly round the corner of the house, bounded over the garden bed, skirting the clump of plants where she had seen the two spies hiding, and made straight for the big tree. Just as she reached the spot where she thought the Black Leaf was, she felt some one grab hold of her arm and she was jerked back. “Here she is! Here she is! That’s not her at the back door! Here she is! Ah, ha...!” screamed a voice in the darkness beside her, the voice of the old woman with the horrible eyes, who had evidently run to guard the Leaf when the back door opened. “Quick! Come quick! Here she is! _Now_ I’ve got you, my beauty!” Immediately there was an uproar. The rush of many feet, shouts, exclamations, came from every direction. There had evidently been far more spies hiding in the garden than Molly had known. Quick as thought, she struck one of Old Nancy’s matches, and as the light spurted out of the darkness, she flashed the flame across the hands that were gripping her arm. With a cry of pain the old woman loosened her grasp, and Molly wriggled and, darting forward, clutched at the stalk of the Black Leaf—and plucked it. Holding the flaring match in one hand, high above her head, and clasping the Black Leaf firmly in the other hand, Molly called out in a clear voice the words Old Nancy had told her: “Come to me, Grey Pumpkin! I command you by the Black Leaf!” Slowly, very slowly, there emerged from the darkness two Grey Pumpkins. As they rolled toward her, Molly glanced hesitatingly from one to the other; then, as they came within reach, she stooped and hastily touched both with the Leaf. The Pumpkins rocked to and fro for a second, then became still at her feet. The Grey Pumpkin was conquered at last. Molly stood silent. She could hardly realize that it was true. After a while she became aware of a curious stillness in the garden; the Pumpkin’s friends had quietly crept away. Molly looked down at the Pumpkins in front of her, vaguely disappointed. She had somehow had a feeling that Jack would be restored to her directly she had found the Black Leaf. The two Grey Pumpkins at her feet looked each exactly the same as the other—she could not tell which was the real Grey Pumpkin herself. This, then, was the Pumpkin’s object in turning Jack into a likeness of himself; this was his last revenge. Poor Molly, she had been looking forward eagerly to seeing Jack again; there was so much good news to share with him; and so, in her moment of triumph, Molly’s eyes were full of tears. “I can’t understand it,” she thought. “I expected he would change back when I touched him with the Black Leaf.... I must take them both back to Old Nancy; she’ll know what to do.” Then, with a pang of remorse, she remembered Miss Lydia. [Illustration: QUICK AS THOUGHT, SHE STRUCK ONE OF OLD NANCY’S MATCHES]