The Witch Family (15 page)

That was what happened now, at the little gray house. The others all ran up the steps, rang the bell, and called lustily. Amy was about to tag along with the littlest ones—the hobgoblins and the ghoulies—when she had to stop short in her tracks under the lamppost.

She thought she saw Little Witch Girl flying up their very own street named Garden Lane on her broomstick! She did see her! She was sure of it! She saw her very clearly now, by the light of the middle lamppost. Little Witch Girl had her little black cat Tommy with her. His back was arched and his mouth was open in the Halloween manner.

Rooted to the sidewalk at this startling sight, Amy, naturally, did not join the others who got ushered into the hallway of the little gray house. The red door closed behind them. Amy was left outside, alone outside under a lamppost on Halloween night with a real little witch girl flying back and forth amidst the ginkgo trees!

Amy put her trick or treat bag down on the sidewalk. She leaned her nonmagic broomstick against the lamppost. And she watched. Her heart beat very fast.

She told herself not to be frightened because this was Halloween and anything might happen on Halloween, even having real witches fly up Garden Lane on broomsticks. Otherwise what was the use of Halloween? Moreover, this little witch girl happened to be an acquaintance of hers—a friend. She watched the real little witch girl go flying low, up and down the street.

Now what was going to happen?

This is what happened. Little Witch Girl saw Amy, but she did not recognize her in her witch costume. She had been looking for the two girls, Amy and Clarissa, one in a pink dress and the other in a blue dress—the way they were the two other times she had seen them. Who could know that Amy was Amy behind that awful witch mask? Little Witch Girl thought Amy must be another real little witch girl, like herself, out on her saturnalia. So, she brought her broomstick down, landing neatly on the sidewalk beside the make-believe little witch, Amy.

Amy's heart beat more wildly than ever. She, of course, had recognized the little witch girl the moment she had seen her. She ought to. She had drawn her often enough. "Hi!" she said shyly.

The minute the real little witch girl heard Amy's voice, she recognized her too. She said, "Hi!" back. She was happy to have located Amy so quickly and to know that real girls dress up like witches on Halloween. "I didn't recognize you at first," she said apologetically. "I thought you always wore pink."

"That's all right," said Amy reassuringly. "If you had a pink dress on instead of your witch clothes, I might not have reckenized you."

For a moment the two witches, real and pretend, surveyed each other silently. Then Amy said, "I wasn't sure that Old Witch would let you come."

"She didn't," said the little witch girl. "I just came."

"And Weeny Witchie?"

"She is with the little mermaid."

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

"Would you like to fly on my broomstick?" asked the little witch girl. "I have learned the abracadabra that will make it go for you. We just learned it in school."

Amy was overcome with joy. Ever since she had seen Little Witch Girl soaring up and down the street, she had longed to try to fly the broomstick. "Oh, yes," she said. "Thank you." Amy had often dreamed that she could fly. And although flying on a broomstick is not as important as plain flying, with only arms and legs to make you go, as in dreams, still it is quite important, she thought.

So, the real little witch girl got off the broomstick, and the pretend little witch got on. Little Witch Girl gave her broomstick a magic pat, the way one pats a pony, and she said, "Tel, tel." Amy was half scared and half delighted as the broomstick began to bump along the brick sidewalk, under the ginkgo trees. She was sure it left the ground.

This left the real little witch girl standing alone in the light of the lamp, without her broomstick but with her little Tommy cat in her arms. And at this moment the other children of the trick or treat expedition came trooping out of the little gray house, their bags more bulging than ever. Of course, they mistook the real little witch girl for Amy.

"Amy!" said Clarissa. "Where were you? Where did you find that cat? Go on in. Take your bag. The lady is waiting for you." And she pushed the little witch girl, whom she thought was Amy, up the steps to the red door of the little gray house, which was still wide open. The lady of the house, a very friendly lady who liked children and who did not keep their kites or balls or anything and who had baked brownies for this occasion, stood in the doorway, beckoning to the little witch girl.

She said she wanted to see this little witch girl close to try and guess who she was. So far, she had not been able to guess who anyone was, which shows how wonderful their costumes must have been, for she knew all the children well and sometimes told them stories.

"Now, let me see," said this lady who did not confiscate balls. "Could this be ... possibly be ... Amy?"

The real little Halloween witch shook her head. But she said nothing lest a Halloween croak escape.

"I know you just must be Amy by your hair," said the nice lady, and she gave the little witch girl a red apple. Little Witch Girl forgot to keep silent and she croaked, "Cr-cr-cr," happily. She did not intend to put poison in one half the apple or to do anything wicked with it, even though this was Halloween. She was just going to eat it. It smelled good, being a Winesap. She took a bite, and "cr-cr-cr," she croaked happily at the juicy morsel.

"Why, Amy darling! Or whoever you are! You must have a terrible cold. Don't stay out too late. And tell your mother to rub your throat with Baume bengée when you get home."

Then she ushered the little witch girl out and closed the door, and she never found out that she had entertained a real live little witch girl in her house.

So then, while Amy was off on the broomstick, trying to get it in front of the moon, Little Witch Girl had the fun of going from house to house and getting the candies and apples and cookies, popcorn too, that were meant for Amy, the pretend witch of Garden Lane.

The real little witch girl was afraid of Christopher Knapp, the red devil, and shrank inside her cloak when he came too close to her. She was also frightened of the big pretend black cat, for Polly Knapp, swept away with enthusiasm at being a cat, kept coming at the little witch girl with her big paws, thinking, of course, this was Amy.

And Little Witch Girl was absolutely terrified of a group of little imps, ghouls, tigers, and lions who were tricksing and treating with their plainclothes ordinary mothers. These mothers were hiding behind trees, trying to look as though they were not there, but keeping careful watch over their tiny ones. They thought the tiny ones wanted to think that they were motherless for the Halloween fun. But some of these two-year-olds were scared of themselves, and one, a tiger, said "Wah-h-h," when he saw the real little witch's face up close. Having had enough of being motherless, he fled, and his mother took him home. "There's another witch!" he screamed catching sight of Amy on the broomstick. His mother put him right to bed.

Amy was having a wonderful time with the broomstick, but she felt it really needed another little pat of magic to make it go higher. She wanted to get it in front of the moon. So, she turned it around and went back to the lamppost where she had left the real little witch taking care of her trick or treat bag. She was going to ask Little Witch Girl to rub more magic onto the broomstick.

At this moment the children came trooping out of a house across the street from the little gray one. They were congregating again under the lamplight to decide where to go next, just as Amy came along on the broomstick. What a shame that none of the children, not even Clarissa, saw her flying! But Clarissa did see that there was one more witch here than there had been before.

"Look, Amy!" she exclaimed, tugging at the cloak of the real little witch whom she still thought was Amy despite the unusual sound of her voice. "Who's this witch?" She became all mixed-up when the new little witch girl dismounted from her broomstick and stood right beside the real little witch girl whom Clarissa thought was Amy.

These two witch girls, the real one and the pretend one, stood side by side, and no one could tell one from the other. They both had long blond hair, exactly the same, and the color of moonlight.

"Amy," said Clarissa to the wrong witch again. "Who is this new witch? Who do you think this new witch is that came up on a broomstick? Do you think it is Mary Maloney from up on Starr Street? Or maybe Sally Trout? And where did you get that cute cat?"

The two little witch girls, the real one and the pretend one, looked at each other and laughed. At first Amy had not understood why Clarissa called the other little witch Amy when she was Amy herself. She thought anyone would know
she
was Amy! But suddenly she caught on! Clarissa and the other children were all mixed-up and still thought that Little Witch Girl was she, Amy! "She's probably gone into the houses with them," thought Amy, catching on still more. It was not surprising for the other children to get mixed-up! But for her best friend, Clarissa, to get mixed-up was too funny! Think of all the pictures that she and Clarissa had drawn of Little Witch Girl. And still Clarissa did not recognize the true witch! Think of the birthday party, too, the witch girl's birthday party!

"Oh, well," said Amy, excusing her. "After all. It is Halloween. Anybody can get mixed-up on Halloween."

"This girl," she said slowly and solemnly to Clarissa, "is real Little Witch Girl that we draw all the time."

Clarissa looked from one to the other in utter confusion. Then she said hastily, "Why, yes, of course," for she certainly recognized Amy's voice and, for the moment at least, knew that Amy was Amy.

"Please rub some more magic on that broomstick," Amy asked the real little witch girl.

Little Witch Girl shook her head. "Not in front of all the children. It doesn't work well unless we are alone."

"Later?" asked Amy.

"Maybe," said Little Witch Girl.

Polly and Christopher Knapp eyed the new witch girl (Amy) and the other witch girl (real one) suspiciously. They did not know one from the other until Amy spoke and they recognized her voice. Then they decided to be rude to the stranger witch girl who they had thought was Amy and whom they had let come into houses with them on their street on Halloween. They would pull her hair, for one thing. "You can't have that bag," said Christopher. "That's Amy's."

They had decided that this other witch was a girl from a different school, not their school. They decided she must be Mary Maloney or Sally Trout from Starr Street, both of whom had long blond hair like Amy's, unless this hair was a Halloween wig. They pulled it to see. No, it was not a wig, for it did not come off. But it crackled electrically, giving them a slight shock, so they decided to leave the new little witch girl alone. They had heard that Mary Maloney was rather a rough girl, and the shock confirmed the rumor. Anyway, they still kept getting her and Amy mixed-up, and they would not want to pull the hair of Amy by mistake and get scolded by their mother who always said, "Don't pull Amy's hair!"

So, they contented themselves with singing, "Mary Maloney is full of baloney." But suddenly they stopped. There came the sound of a great whirra-whirra. The moon darkened over. "Heh-heh! Ha-ha! He-he!" The harsh laugh of the great old Halloween witch could be heard. Wind whistled. Branches of the great ginkgo trees bent low. The little make-believe hobgoblins, frightened and excited, darted hither and thither and looked real. Newspapers flew up the street and wound around the children's legs. Happily terrified, they all raced for Amy's house, where they had agreed to wind up the expedition. And in this way trick or treat ended for the year.

Little Witch Girl was just as terrified as the others. What would Old Witch do if she discovered Little Witch Girl down here on Garden Lane? Trembling, she hid under Amy's little fir tree by the front stoop. But when Amy's mother opened the front door and light spilled out and down the steps, sounds of Old Witch disappeared, and most of the children raced home. They could hardly wait to see what was in their trick or treat bags and possibly eat something.

The only children left standing in front of Amy's house were Amy, Clarissa, and the other little witch girl.

Amy's mother looked at the two little witches. "And who is this other little witchie?" she asked, having trouble recognizing her own Amy.

"Oh," said Chris Knapp's high soprano boy's voice. He was looking out of his upstairs window. "That's Mary Maloney. We know that's Mary Maloney. She can't fool us."

"S'Mary," echoed Polly Knapp quietly.

Amy's mother knew that the other witch was not Mary Maloney because she knew that Mary Maloney was a bride for this Halloween. While the children had been away tricksing and treating, Mary Maloney had come here, to the back door, with some other children from Starr Street. And Mary Maloney was not a witch. She was a bride in a long net curtain, rather torn and muddy, and she wore earrings in her ears.