The gentlemen were just come from a parish meeting and as soon as everyone was seated again in the drawing-room, Mr Redmond and Henry imparted various items of parish news to Mrs Redmond and Arabella. Then they inquired about Strange’s journey, the state of the roads and how the farmers got on in Shropshire, Herefordshire and Gloucestershire (these being the counties Strange had travelled through). At seven o’clock the tea things were brought in. In the silence that followed, while they were all eating and drinking, Mrs Redmond remarked to her husband, “Mr Strange is going to be a magician, my love.” She spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, because to her it was.

“A magician?” said Henry, quite astonished. “Why should you want to do that?”

Strange paused. He did not wish to tell his real reason – which was to impress Arabella with his determination to do something sober and scholarly – and so he fell back upon the only other explanation he could think of. “I met a man under a hedge at Monk Gretton who told me that I was a magician.”

Mr Redmond laughed, approving the joke. “Excellent!” he said.

“Did you, indeed?” said Mrs Redmond.

“I do not understand,” said Henry Woodhope.

“You do not believe me, I suppose?” said Strange to Arabella.

“Oh, on the contrary, Mr Strange!” said Arabella with an amused smile. “It is all of a piece with your usual way of doing things. It is quite as strong a foundation for a career as I should expect from you.”

Henry said, “But if you are going to take up a profession – and I cannot see why you should want one at all, now that you have come into your property – surely you can chuse something better than magic! It has no practical application.”

“Oh, but I think you are wrong!” said Mr Redmond. “There is that gentleman in London who confounds the French by sending them illusions! I forget his name. What is it that he calls his theory? Modern magic?”

“But how is that different from the old-fashioned sort?” wondered Mrs Redmond. “And which will you do, Mr Strange?”

“Yes, do tell us, Mr Strange,” said Arabella, with an arch look. “Which will you do?”

“A little of both, Miss Woodhope. A little of both!” Turning to Mrs Redmond, he said, “I purchased three spells from the man under the hedge. Should you like to see one, madam?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!”

“Miss Woodhope?” asked Strange.

“What are they for?”

“I do not know. I have not read them yet.” Jonathan Strange took the three spells Vinculus had given him out of his breast pocket and gave them to her to look at.

“They are very dirty,” said Arabella.

“Oh! We magicians do not regard a little dirt. Besides I dare say they are very old. Ancient, mysterious spells such as these are often …”