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Updated: June 6, 2025
He stood to the bar scratching his 'ead and staring, but he couldn't understand it a bit till a man wot was too late to sell his ha'penny up and told 'im all about it. The fuss 'e made was terrible. The shillings was in a little heap on a shelf at the back o' the bar, and he did all sorts o' things to 'em to prove that they was bad, and threatened Joe Barlcomb with the police.
Joe Barlcomb thanked 'er, and with the bottle in 'is pocket went off to the Cauliflower, whistling. Bill Jones was there, and Peter Lamb, and two or three more of 'em, and at fust they said some pretty 'ard things to him about being woke up in the night. "Don't bear malice, Bill," ses Joe Barlcomb; "'ave a pint with me."
It's a very bad thing to come to a witch for advice and then not to do as she tells you. You ought to know that." "I'll do it, ma'am," ses Joe Barlcomb, trembling. "You'd better," ses Mrs. Prince; "and mind not a word to anybody."
He screamed away at the top of 'is voice for ten minutes, and then 'e pulled the winder to with a bang and went back to bed. Joe Barlcomb was very tired, but he walked on to Jasper Potts's 'ouse, trying 'ard as he walked to decide which o' the fust two 'ad made the most fuss.
At last, however, 'e saw wot a fool he was making of himself, and arter nearly breaking his teeth 'e dropped them into a drawer and stirred 'em up with the others. Joe Barlcomb went round the next night to see Mrs. Prince, and she asked 'im a lot o' questions about the men as 'ad sold 'im the ha'pennies.
She was standing on a broken chair to reach something down from the dresser when it 'appened, and it was pointed out to Joe Barlcomb that it was a thing anybody might ha' done without being bewitched; but he said 'e knew better, and that they'd kept that broken chair for standing on for years and years to save the others, and nothing 'ad ever 'appened afore.
Then Bill Jones went back to bed, and Joe Barlcomb, arter sitting down on the doorstep to rest 'imself, went off and knocked up Peter Lamb. Peter Lamb was a little man and no good as a fighter, but the things he said to Joe Barlcomb as he leaned out o' the winder and shook 'is fist at him was 'arder to bear than blows.
His wife went off grumbling, and then Bill told Joe Barlcomb to hurry up wot he'd got to say as 'e 'adn't got much on and the weather wasn't as warm as it might be. "I sold you a shilling for a ha'penny last night, Bill," ses Joe. "Do you want to sell any more?" ses Bill Jones, putting his 'and down to where 'is trouser pocket ought to be. "Not exactly that," ses Joe Barlcomb.
There was a man in this place then Joe Barlcomb by name who was a firm believer in it, and 'e used to do all sorts of things to save hisself from it. He was a new-comer in Claybury, and there was such a lot of it about in the parts he came from that the people thought o' nothing else hardly.
"It's me Joe Barlcomb," ses Joe, "and I want to speak to you very partikler." "Well, speak away," ses Bill. "You go into the back room," he ses, turning to his wife. "Whaffor?" ses Mrs. Jones. "'Cos I don't know wot Joe is going to say," ses Bill. "You go in now, afore I make you."
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