Sophie picked up the can and weed-killed generously, wishing the weeds were the Witch. “And she turned you into a dog straight after that?”

“Just outside the town,” said Percival. “As soon as I’d let her know what she wanted, she opened the carriage door and said, ‘Off you run. I’ll call you when I need you.’ And I ran, because I could feel some sort of spell following me. It caught up just as I’d got to a farm, and the people there saw me change into a dog and thought I was a werewolf and tried to kill me. I had to bite one to get away. But I couldn’t get rid of the stick, and it stuck in the hedge when I tried to get through.”

Sophie weed-killed her way down another curve of the drive as she listened. “Then you went to Mrs. Fairfax’s?”

“Yes. I was looking for Lettie. They were both very kind to me,” Percival said, “even though they’d never seen me before. And Wizard Howl kept visiting to court Lettie. Lettie didn’t want him, and she asked me to bite him to get rid of him, until Howl suddenly began asking her about you and—”

Sophie narrowly missed weed-killing her shoes. Since the gravel was smoking where the stuff met it, this was probably just as well. “What?”

“He said, ‘I know someone called Sophie who looks a little like you.’ And Lettie said, ‘That’s my sister,’ without thinking,” Percival said. “And she got terribly worried then, particularly as Howl went on asking about her sister. Lettie said she could have bitten her tongue off. The day you came there, she was being nice to Howl in order to find out how he knew you. Howl said you were an old woman. And Mrs. Fairfax said she’d seen you. Lettie cried and cried. She said, ‘Something terrible has happened to Sophie! And the worst of it is she’ll think she’s safe from Howl. Sophie’s too kind herself to see how heartless Howl is!’ And she was so upset that I managed to turn into a man long enough to say I’d go and keep an eye on you.”

Sophie spread weed-killer in a great, smoking arc. “Bother Lettie! It’s very kind of her, and I love her dearly for it. I’ve been quite as worried about her. But I do not need a watchdog!”

“Yes you do,” said Percival. “Or you did. I arrived far too late.”

Sophie swung round, weed-killer and all. Percival had to leap into the grass and run for his life behind the nearest tree. The grass died in a long brown swathe behind him as he ran. “Curse everyone!” Sophie cried out. “I’ve done with the lot of you!” She dumped the smoking watering can in the middle of the drive and marched off through the weeds toward the stone gateway. “Too late!” she muttered as she marched. “What nonsense! Howl’s not only heartless, he’s impossible! Besides,” she added, “I am an old woman.”