Magic Elizabeth (9 page)

Emily stared down at her own hands, which looked quite frozen on the window sill. She took a deep breath. “That lady,” she said. “I saw her when she moved in, with a black cat. She looked all bent over!”

“But she isn’t a witch at all,” Sally went on. “She’s
just very old. I guess she’s not used to children. Imagine thinking she was a witch! Wasn’t that funny?” She laughed. “Why, tomorrow we’re even going to make some gingerbread cookies.”

A smile began very slowly upon Emily’s face. The curly corners of her mouth curled even more, and then she gave what sounded like a very relieved giggle. The other braid appeared over the edge of the window. “I like gingerbread cookies,” she said.

“You know,” said Sally, “the house isn’t really scary at all, once you get used to it. It’s just very old, like Aunt Sarah. It’s awfully pretty inside. There’s a melodeon — that’s a little thing like a piano — and it plays a tune all by itself when you just walk through the room, even if you go on tiptoe. And besides that” — she paused dramatically and looked up at Emily, who was giving her all her attention — “there’s a very old doll lost somewhere in the house. There’s a picture of her on the wall of my room. She belonged to a girl who lived here a long time ago. No one’s ever found her.”

Emily’s eyes seemed to grow larger and became an even deeper blue.

“I’m trying to find her,” said Sally.

Emily grinned. She seemed a quite different sort of girl now, one it would be a great deal of fun to know.

“I’ll ask my mother if I can come out and play,” she said. And then she was gone. The last Sally saw of her for a time was the glittering tip of one flying braid. Then the window was empty, except for the half-drawn shade and its dangling cord, moving slowly back and forth like a pendulum, ticking away the minutes while Sally waited. She picked up a twig from the ground and stroked the fur of a foxtail with it. A small green apple fell with a soft plopping sound and rolled away in the deep grass.

Then Emily was back again. Her face beamed her eagerness. “My mother says I can come over for a little while,” she said. “I’ll come around the front and through the alley.” She pointed.

Sally was making her way through the tangle of bushes at the side of the house next to Emily’s apartment house when Emily herself burst through from the other side. She was wearing a pinafore covered with small yellow quarter moons that repeated the smile of her own curly mouth. “Hi!” she said.

“Hi!” said Sally. They pushed through the bushes into the garden.

“What should we do?” Emily asked breathlessly.

Sally looked around the garden. Her eye lit upon the old barn, with the interesting glimmer of red that she had seen from her window showing in the crack between the doors.

“Would you like to go into the barn?” she asked.

Emily looked at the barn and then at Sally. She nodded.

“What’s that red in there?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in there either.”

They walked through the blowing foxtails to the barn. “They tickle my legs,” said Emily. “I know,” said Sally. They giggled, just because it was so wonderful to feel like old friends already.

Reaching the barn, Sally pushed at the doors. The old doors squeaked and groaned as if they had not been subjected to such treatment in many years. The space between them widened enough to permit the two of them to slip through into the barn. At the first squeak Emily’s hand had slipped into Sally’s, and so hand in hand, Emily a little behind, they entered.

Sally blinked at the darkness inside. She could feel Emily’s breath on the back of her neck, and she squeezed her hand, feeling a little frightened herself. The dirt floor was spongy beneath her feet. She could feel its coldness through the soles of her shoes. The barn smelled, as barns ought to, of dampness and long-ago hay, and perhaps even of the horses who had once stood in the stalls. Sally imagined them turning their heads as the other Sally entered. Maybe she had carried sugar in her pocket for them, or an apple from the garden.

Emily gave a little shuddering gasp behind her.

“It’s Shadow!” cried Sally. For there he was, sitting quite placidly on the high seat at the front of an enormous red sleigh. The runners of the sleigh rose in magnificent curves from the barn floor. “The sleigh in the diary!” Sally said.

The sleigh was standing between the two lines of stalls, illuminated from above, as if on a stage, by wavering ribbons of light that descended from holes in the roof of the barn. The sleigh itself was delicately frosted over with dust and silvery cobwebs. It looked enchanted to Sally, for it seemed to shine with a light of its own. A little silver step at the side of the sleigh winked invitingly.

Sally looked down at Emily, who was now standing at her side, staring up in wonder at the beautiful sleigh. Her tongue darted out and touched her upper lip.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Sally. Emily certainly seemed to be a very timid little girl, she thought. “It’s only Shadow up there. He’s a very nice cat.”

“I’m not afraid,” Emily said. “I’m not afraid with you, Sally. It’s pretty. It’s a very pretty sleigh,” she added gravely.

“Let’s get up into it,” said Sally, feeling very brave.

“All right,” agreed Emily.

“I’ll go first,” Sally offered.

She placed one foot on the silver step, and holding on to a projecting edge of the sleigh, lifted the rest of herself up to the step and then to the floor of the sleigh. The sleigh gave a profound sigh as she stepped into it, as if it, like the barn doors, had not been disturbed in years. Sally reached down and took Emily’s hand and helped her up. Tiny cobwebs snapped soundlessly as they moved. The black leather seat was covered with a network of tiny cracks, so that it looked like a map of some heretofore undiscovered land. A fat white spider, who had perhaps been sleeping up there, scuttled away along one of the cracks and disappeared over the side of the seat. They sat down on the splitting seat and looked up at Shadow, who blinked down at them from the driver’s seat, his green eyes glowing.

“Come on down, Shadow,” Sally said. “I want you to meet Emily.” Just as if he had understood, Shadow jumped down and sat between the two girls, rubbing against their sides in a friendly manner and purring. Sally stroked his fur. Emily hesitated only a moment before doing the same. Sally introduced Emily to him, and Emily took his paw and said gravely, “How do you do, Mr. Shadow.” Shadow purred his reply. Emily brushed her cheek against his head. “He’s nice,” she said.

Sally nodded. “I used to be afraid of him,” she said, as if that had been a very long time ago. And
indeed, it did seem to be. She told Emily about the diary, and about the other Sally and her cats. “This must be the very sleigh she rode in,” she said, “on Christmas Eve. And I’ll bet that she had Elizabeth with her.”

“Who’s Elizabeth?” asked Emily.

“The doll. The doll I’m going to find.”

“I hope you do,” said Emily. “But how will you find her?”

“I guess I’ll just have to think very hard. And I’m going to look all through the attic for a clue, if Aunt Sarah lets me go back up there. You see, Elizabeth was on the top of a Christmas tree, and they were all singing, and when they looked again, Elizabeth was gone. And there was no one else in the room at all. It’s very mysterious.”

“It’s a real mystery,” agreed Emily. “Maybe the cats saw what happened to her.”

They laughed. “Do you think they did, Shadow?” Sally asked. “Did Mrs. Niminy Piminy see what happened?”

As if in reply, Shadow pricked up his ears and then leaped gracefully down from the sleigh to the barn floor. He sat looking up at them, one ear cocked as if he were listening to something.

“Sally!” a voice called. Shadow looked once at the two girls and then hurried to the barn doors.

“Here I am,” Sally called. Just as Shadow reached
the doors, the crooked fingers of Aunt Sarah’s hand appeared at the edge of one of them. Emily gave a small frightened cry. Aunt Sarah’s face showed in the space between the doors. She blinked, shaded her eyes with her hand, and peered up at them. “Oh, there you are,” she said, frowning into the darkness.

Oh dear, Sally thought, she
would
frighten Emily. “It’s only Aunt Sarah, Emily,” she whispered.

“Who’s that with you?” asked Aunt Sarah.

“This is my friend Emily,” Sally answered.

“Hello,” Emily whispered.

“Hello, Emily,” said Aunt Sarah briskly. “You girls can play later. Hurry now, Sally. It’s your mother on the phone. You may be going home tomorrow. Don’t make her wait. Hurry!”

“My mother!” Sally cried. She looked at Emily. “Please wait,” she said, and jumped down from the sleigh.

Emily nodded. Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap.

S
ally’s hand was trembling
as she picked up the telephone receiver. “Hello, Mama,” she said.

And from somewhere far away came a voice which scarcely sounded like her mother at all.

“Sal!” said the voice. “Oh, it’s good to hear you! Are you all right, darling? Aunt Sarah says you have a little cold.”

“Yes,” said Sally, “I’m all right.” Shadow had jumped up onto the telephone table and was watching her, his tail hanging off the table, the tip of it twitching back and forth. Aunt Sarah was standing somewhere nearby, behind Sally.

“You sound a little hoarse, Sal. Are you sure
you’re all right?” Sally cleared her throat. “I’m all right,” she said. “I just ran in from the barn.”

“Hi, Sal!” said her father’s deeper voice.

“Hi, Dad,” she said. “It’s good to talk to you.”

“Want your mom to come and get you, old girl?” he asked.

“Yes, Sal,” said her mother, before she could answer, “I’ve really had enough sun, and your father can handle his business without me. What do you say, dear? When I gave Mrs. Chipley Aunt Sarah’s address, I hardly expected — Aunt Sarah says she’d like to have you stay, but it’s up to you.”

“She — she does?” asked Sally.

“Yes, hon, that’s what she said, but,” and her mother lowered her voice, “I know that she’s very old, dear, and not used to children, and maybe you feel — strange there? And I do miss you.”

“I miss you too,” said Sally, and then, to her surprise, she heard herself say, “but I’d like to stay here. I really would.”

Aunt Sarah gave a little cough and cleared her throat.

“Are you sure, Sal?” asked her mother. “Very sure?

“Yes, I’m sure. I like it here. I’m looking for a doll.”

“A doll?”

“Yes, an old doll. She was lost here a long time ago, and maybe I can find her. I want to try.”

“Well, my goodness, you do sound as if you’re enjoying yourself. Are you very sure, Sal?”

“Sal,” said her father, “we talked with Mrs. Chipley and she may not be able to get back before we do, though her daughter’s getting along fine. We’ll be back sometime before school starts, but Mom’s ready to leave now if you say the word.”

“No, I really want to stay,” said Sally. “Honestly, I do want to.” For how
could
she go, with the mystery still unsolved?

“Shadow’s licking my hand,” she said, laughing. “It tickles — no, it scrapes, just like sandpaper. He’s this black cat that Aunt Sarah has, and there used to be another black cat here named Mrs. Niminy Piminy. Isn’t that a funny name? And there’s an old red sleigh in the barn, and there was a girl who lived here a long time ago and she looked just like me, and her picture is hanging over a little green fireplace in my room, and I’ve found a friend. Her name’s Emily.”

Her mother was laughing. “Goodness!” she said, “it sounds quite exciting! I guess you really do want to stay. Very well then, dear, but I’ll give you our phone number here and you can call me the minute you change your mind.”

“All right,” said Sally, “but I don’t think I will.”
She picked up a pencil, pushing Shadow off the pad of paper on the table, and wrote down the number her mother gave her.

“Good-bye, Sal,” said her mother. “Watch that cold!”

“Good-bye, Punkin,” said her father.

She hung up and turned to Aunt Sarah. To her immense surprise, Aunt Sarah was smiling — and in a way that lit up her eyes so that she looked even more like the other Sally’s mother, though her hair was indeed very gray.

Sally smiled shyly back at her.

But at this, Aunt Sarah turned her head to look at Shadow, cleared her throat, and said, “Well, Shadow’s looking very happy that you’re staying.”

“And so am I,” thought Sally, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall over the telephone. She gave a little skip that clearly expressed her pleasure as she followed Aunt Sarah from the hall.

She hurried back out to the garden and into the barn. “Emily,” she called, before she had even gotten through the doors, “I’m staying! We can do all sorts of things!”

But the sleigh was quite empty. “Emily?” she called.

Her friend had vanished. As Sally stood there forlornly looking up at the sleigh, a cloud passed
over the sun, and the ribbons of light were abruptly withdrawn. “Why did you go, Emily?” she whispered. “Aunt Sarah scared you away.”