They did not like the idea of going back to the Third Green Lane at all. But they went. When they came within sight of the lane they were amazed to find that the house had gone. It had vanished completely. Jack and Molly could scarcely believe their eyes at first, but on the whole they were distinctly relieved that it wasn't there; nevertheless, they searched the end of the lane and the edge of the Heath quickly, with constant, watchful eyes on the place where the house had been. Having satisfied themselves that the leaf was nowhere about there, they proceeded to the spot where they had left off searching, and continued peering among the bushes and trees and heather of the Goblin's Heath.
Hour after hour passed by, and the day wore on. Still they plodded away at their task, keeping together and listening always, in case a message came from the Goblin. When they got hungry again, they ate some of Old Nancy's little brown sweets, and found them very refreshing.
In the daylight they could hardly imagine it was the same Heath that they had seen by moonlight; there was not the slightest trace of goblins, or spies. That is, not the slightest trace until they came across a pond and saw, half out of the water, and stuck in the soft mud, a shoe: a curiously shaped shoe, which they remembered, vaguely, seeing before--on the foot of the old woman with the horrible eyes. This was evidently the shoe that the goblins had thrown into the pond. The sight of it made all their recent adventures return vividly to their minds, and made them very unwilling to be still on the Heath when night came. So they hastened on their way.
Evening was already approaching when they finally came to the end of their day's search, and no sign of the Black Leaf had they found. As no warning had come from the Goblin and they had not been disturbed in any way, they felt, on the whole, all the better for their open-air day on the sunny, wind-swept Heath; though they were tired now, and not at all sorry to turn their footsteps toward the little village, which appeared close at hand, at the edge of the Heath.
Miss Marigold was in the garden tying up the sunflowers as Jack and Molly passed her cottage, which was the fourth one along the village street. Such a quaint little village street it was, with cobbled stones, and grass growing in the roadway, and bunchy white cottages with thatched roofs. The children did not know the name of the lady in the garden, of course, and were just wondering where Miss Marigold lived, when they saw a card hanging in the window, on which was printed: