The Witch Family (13 page)

Suddenly a look of great interest came over Old Witch's face. Apparently there was a change in the crystal ball. Words were appearing in it.

"What be them words?" Old Witch asked herself.

At first the words were very tiny. But they grew larger and clearer, and finally she could read them clearly. This she did, aloud.

"Search not for the bumblebee.
He'll sting and sting and sting, Nobby!
Know'st thou not how to outwit him?
Forsooth, then know'st thou must outspell him!"

"Heh-heh!" screeched Old Witch in horrid glee. "A spelling bee! A spelling bee!"

She screeched so loudly that she waked up Beebee. But Beebee did not mind. She clapped her hands happily and sent out sparks. "A bee, a bee," she said.

"Spelling," said Old Witch proudly.

But Little Witch Girl's heart had jumped into her throat. She thought Old Witch had captured Malachi! Fortunately, a swift glance at the camouflage place assured her that no such thing had happened. "Now, my dearie dear," said Old Witch. There was something in Old Witch's tone—a certain conniving note—that the little witch girl did not like and that filled her with dread. "We are going to have a spelling bee, your bumblebee friend and I, the head witch. The little witches from the witch school must come, for otherwise it is not a true bee. They are going to see that I am no longer going to be bit, bullied, and outwitted by a bumblebee."

"Oh, my!" said Little Witch Girl.

Old Witch then stood on the tip-top of the glass hill and she croaked three terrible hoarse and horrible croaks. Led by the witch schoolteacher, the six little witches from witch school flew up on their broomsticks. "What's up?" they wondered in excitement. They were very happy to have this interesting summons from the witch house of exile to break the dullness of the hot and humid day. They did not have to wait long for an answer.

"As you know," Old Witch said, "there has been a great deal of trouble with a certain bee, Malachi, known as the spelling bee. I am going to put an end to this trouble. A spelling bee is about to take place between myself and this mumble, this humble, this bumblebee. (Here there was much laughter at her sneering tone, and snickering.) It be now my intention to outspell the spelling bee. Once outspelled, his magic will be gone, heh-heh! Be there a better speller than I be?" she asked the little witches.

"No! There be not!" they all screeched together.

"
BEEHOLD
!" spelled a scornful, powerful, buzzing voice.

"Pay no heed to that," said Old Witch. "We'll go on with the plans. You three (and she picked out Tweet, and Itch and Twitch, the twins) sit on this side. You other three (and here she picked out Note-sy, Olie, and Izzy) sit opposite. Schoolteacher, you be the umpire and sit at that end. I, myself, will stand at this end. Malachi be where he be."

Little Witch Girl would not join in the game, for she loved both contestants. She secretly hoped that Malachi would win, however. She knew that if he won, he would not hurt Old Witch very much. But if Old Witch won, she did not like to think what Old Witch might do to him.

Old Witch scribbled some words on a sheet of paper and handed it to the witch teacher. Then she went to her end of the porch and did a weird backanally to ready herself for the word battle with the bee. Her backanally was interesting to all. But more interesting than it to the witch teacher was a new word that hopped by magic onto her list of spelling words. "Hm-m-m," said the witch teacher, bemused.

Her backanally finished, Old Witch was about to tell the witch teacher to sound the gong and call the first word when the same buzzing, warning voice as before spelled, "
BEEGIN!
"

Everybody jumped. Of course they could not see Malachi, and every time he spoke, his voice seemed to come from a different direction. "A ventriloquist bumblebee," thought Little Witch Girl proudly.

"Took the word right out of my mouth," said Old Witch, chagrined.

"Well," comforted the witch schoolteacher. "If the bumblebee continues to spell like that, he will certainly never win."

"
BEE STILL
!" commanded the voice.

"Heh-heh!" laughed Old Witch, reassured. "Two e's in be—that be wrong."

Of course Malachi was just trying to get Old Witch mixed up, the little witch girl thought, putting more e's in every word than there should be.

"All right, then," screeched Old Witch. "We shall ¿ee-gin. Give the first word, Schoolteacher. Let the bee bee-gin."

The little witch girl hastily cautioned Malachi. "Remember," she said softly, "to spell the words backward and not forward, or the teacher will count you wrong."

"
SEY,
" said Malachi, who certainly could spell backward as well as forward. This is a hard and strict way to spell, but witches think that if you can spell backward, you can then certainly spell going forward, the easy way.

The first word was a trick, to try and confuse the bumblebee.

"Bee!" commanded the teacher. "Spell 'Hannah.'"

"
HANNAH!
" spelled Malachi slowly and distinctly, and not in the least nervous.

But Old Witch screeched, "He has put the wrong H first. There should be a small h first. He has spelled Hannah the wrong way around. Count him wrong, count him wrong," she screamed.

"He spelled it right," said three of the little witches.

"He spelled it wrong," said the other three.

"
PROVE IT
," said Malachi calmly.

"The capital H comes last!" screamed the witch.

"
I SPEAK ONLY IN CAPITALS,
" said Malachi with dignity.

"He speaks only in capitals," said all the little witches in awe. "What a bee!" And all agreed, "Last is first and first is last. He spelled it right."

The umpire teacher, too, said that Malachi had won on that catch word, for she was a fair witch, at least as fair as they came. "Next word," she said. "Your turn, Mistress Nobby," she said with a courteous croak. "Spell ... bumblebee."

Old Witch began well enough, "eebelbmu," she said, but at the end she said, "bee."

"Wrong for the right way," said the witch teacher.

"
WRONG,
" said Malachi severely, "
FOR ANY WAY
!" And he said, "
TWO DOWN.
"

Old Witch was very angry. Thomp! She stomped up and down the porch. The little witches were glad that she was not angry with any of them. "Give her another chance," they said.

"Very well," said the witch teacher. "Spell 'befuddle,'" she said. This was the word that Malachi had added to the list by magic.

Now Malachi had put so many extra e's in every word that had "be" in it that Old Witch was truly becoming befuddled. In her ears there was the sound as of the swarming of bees. She began, "elddufe," and then she made another mistake and put the extra e in again, and so the word came out "beefuddle."

"Bees in her bonnet," thought Schoolteacher irreverently. The little witches all gasped. "She really is befuddled," they said.

Fire flew from Old Witch's eyes. Thunder and lightning filled the air. She stomped back and forth in fury. "Spell 'witch,'" she screamed. (If 'witch' is misspelled, all the most wicked and loathsome witches there are in the world will appear and do what Old Witch says to do.)

Slowly and distinctly, craftily and deliberately, Malachi began. "
H C T I,
" he spelled. Then he paused as though searching for the next and right letter. Old Witch could not help laughing, "Heh-heh." Now so far, what clever Malachi had spelled of the word was 'itch.' Curiously enough at this point, Old Witch began scratching herself. The more she scratched the more she itched. She seemed to itch all over.

"Say the W, say the W," she beseeched. But Malachi would not.

It was a comical sight to see Old Witch try to reach the middle of her back. The little witches all enjoyed it until they too began to itch. All the little witches had caught the itches, and when the umpire schoolteacher witch also began to itch, she and the little ones all flew away, screaming with laughter, and each one trying to scratch the back of the one in front. "He
BEE
the winner," they taunted Old Witch as they rode away.

"
I WON,
" said Malachi simply.

To warn Old Witch not to try to get the better of him again, Malachi poured honey all over the porch where she was stomping. Her feet got stuck in it like flies to flypaper, and she could not get loose. The honey was as magic as Malachi, having been stored in his magic stomach. So, Old Witch had to stay stuck. She bent low in every direction trying to break loose, but she could not. She began to regret having stirred up trouble with a spelling bee.

Then, out of kindness, Malachi finished spelling the word. "W," he said. The minute he put the W onto witch, Old Witch stopped itching and stopped being stuck in the honey. She sat down in her old wicker rocker. "Oh, to glory be," she thought. "Outwitted me again. But I'll get him yet," she said in fury. "I will."

"
MIND YOUR OWN BEESWAX
," said Malachi. This was the first time that Malachi had ever made a joke, and he buzzed heartily. Naturally, he felt lighthearted, having achieved such a telling victory.

Down below, at the yellow table, Clarissa laughed out loud at the way Amy had drawn Old Witch, in a horizontal position, trying to unstick herself from the honey. "Malachi should have left her there," she said.

"What!" said Amy. "And us have no Halloween witch? Nope! Anyway, Little Witch Girl would not have liked that. Would you like to see your grandmother stuck to the floor, forever, in honey?" she asked Clarissa solemnly.

"My grandmother is in Tangiers," said Clarissa. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"But if she were not in Tangiers, would you like to have her stuck in honey?"

"
NO
," spelled Clarissa.

"Well, then. Neither would Little Witch Girl. And who would cook the herbs and make the soup? Just a little sticking—that was long enough."

"Oh," groaned Clarissa. "I feel sticky! If only we could go swimming in the Oldtown swimming pool!"

"M-m-m," said Amy. "That'd be nice."

"You know what tonight is, don't you?" said Amy, wagging her finger wisely at Clarissa.

Clarissa looked knowing. But the truth was, she had forgotten. Her memory was not very long. Often the most she could remember was whether there was school today or not. Then it came to her in a flash, the way the right answer sometimes pops into your head in arithmetic, and you don't quite know where the answer came from—some deep down inside-the-head secret storing place for answers, probably.

"I know," she said. "It's Halloween. And we go tricksing and treating."

It was Saturday. Amy and Clarissa were at the little table, drawing large pictures of pumpkins, ghosts, black cats, and witches—big and little witches, baby witches, and witch dolls. Their papers were covered with witches flying in front of huge moons.

"And," Amy went on, "you know that tonight Old Witch can get off the glass hill and come right down here, even to Garden Lane, if she wants to?" She looked sharply at Clarissa to see if she had taken in this important reminder.

"She can!" exclaimed Clarissa. "Even though she came down for the rabbits and the eggs?"

"Yes," answered Amy solemnly. "Even though. You know why? Because she didn't eat one real rabbit, just toy rabbits, and she didn't eat the real painted eggs, just plain painted rocks. So I wrote her—don't you remember anything?—and told her she could come down for Halloween."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Clarissa.

"So she can. What is the use of Halloween without Old Witch? No use."

"Of course not," said Clarissa.

"But I am
SCARED
!" spelled Amy.

"I'm
NOT
," said Clarissa.

"Well,
I'm
scared because we might see Old Witch when we go tricksing and treating. She might not like me because I banquished her to the top of the glass hill to learn to be good. And one thing, Clarissa. You know one thing, don't you?"

"No," said Clarissa.

"Witches do not like to be good. They hate it."

"Well, Amy," said Clarissa. "We are going to be with Polly and Christopher Knapp. We won't be scared because Chris is nine."

"That's right," said Amy, hoping she would be a brave girl and not mind about Old Witch. "Will you come for me?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. I'll come for you," Clarissa promised.

Amy surveyed her scary drawing. "Clarissa," she said, "you better go home now and get ready."

"Now!" said Clarissa. "Get ready now! It's morning now. We have to wait for nighttime to put on our costumes and go out."

Amy sat back and thought. "Yes," she said. "It has to be dark, very dark. And the sky must be the Halloween sky. And the moon must be the Halloween moon. And the clouds, the Halloween clouds. Everything will be scary and spooky and windy. I guess Little Witch Girl is getting ready now."

"And Weeny Witchie." Clarissa laughed.

"Weeny Witchie! Are you a nope?" said Amy. "Weeny Witchie can't come. She's too little. She might get lost. Maybe even Little Witch Girl can't come. She might have to stay home and mind Beebee. Old Witch might have planned to leave Little Witch Girl home even if there wasn't a baby in the family. Does your mother, or your grandmother, take you everywhere she goes?"

"Grandmother! She is in Tangiers."

"Well, do they take you everywhere they go?"

"No."

"Well, it is the same with witches. They don't take their little witch girls everywhere they go either. What do you think the witch family is doing right this minute?" asked Amy. "Probably carving awful punkins," she answered herself.

She was right.

Old Witch and Little Witch Girl were carving awful pumpkins at that minute. Since pumpkins did not grow on the bare and bleak glass hill, Old Witch had got them by means of abracadabra—a terrible huge pumpkin head for herself, a terrible medium-sized one for the little witch girl, and a tiny, terrible one for Weeny Witchie.