The Witch Family (16 page)

"Just some other little witch from somewhere," she thought. And she thought, "This has been a very big year for witches."

"Well," said Amy's mother. "You must come in now. And this other little witch must go home. And Clarissa, your mother phoned and asked if you would like to spend the night. She is going to be home later than she thought." ("Goody! Goody!" interrupted Clarissa.) "I think you might as well both sleep in my bed tonight." ("Oh goody, goody!" Amy interrupted.) "So come on in."

"Good-bye," whispered Amy to the real little witch girl. "Thanks." And they all went in, leaving Little Witch Girl standing under the fir tree with her cat and her broomstick.

Amy and Clarissa went upstairs. In her mother's big bedroom, Amy went over to the window. The moon had gone under a cloud. When it came out, she thought she saw, in the light of it, the little witch girl down below, still standing under the fir tree.

"Little Witch Girl," she whispered. "Could Clarissa and me have one little ride? She hasn't been on the broomstick at all yet." It seemed to Amy that she heard an answering whisper, "Yes."

Amy's mother called from downstairs. "Get ready for bed now, little witchie and little Chinese girl."

"We don't have to go to bed yet," said Amy to her mother. "It's not even eight o'clock yet."

"You have had so much excitement, I think you had better," her mother said.

"We're not sleepy," said Amy.

"No," said Clarissa, yawning.

"We want to draw first," said Amy.

"Just for a little while then," said Amy's mother.

Amy and Clarissa sat down at the little yellow table. Their Halloween drawings from this morning were still there. They added a bit here and there. Their heads were nodding, but they did not want to go to bed because they were not sleepy. For just a moment Clarissa laid her head down on the table. "I'm not sleepy," she murmured.

Amy laid her head down on the other side of the table. "I'm not either," she said. "Little Witch Girl said we could have a ride, Clarissa. You and me, take turns," she said.

"I don't want a ride," said Clarissa.

"Nope!" said Amy. "You may never again, in your whole life, have a chance to ride a real broomstick."

Clarissa did not answer.

Amy's mother's voice, as from miles away, sang up the stairs. "Amy! Clarissa! Get ready for bed. In two minutes I'll be up and turn off the lights. Hurry!"

Neither little girl answered. Amy had never taken off her mask. It was not comfortable to sleep in, but she kept it on because she liked it.

"Did you hear me?" her mother said, from even farther away.

"In two minutes," murmured Amy, not raising her head from the little table. "What a two minutes this was going to be!" she thought. "Rides, broomsticks, witches..."

"Now this time," said Amy, who was rather surprised to find herself back outside, under the little fir tree, talking to the real little witch girl, "this time, please rub more magic, much more magic, onto the broomstick than you did last time, so that it will really go up into the air, not far up, just a little up. Please rub enough magic to give Clarissa and me a nice little ride back and forth on Garden Lane."

"Where is Clarissa?" asked the little witch girl.

"Oh, that's right. She doesn't like rides on merry-go-rounds and she doesn't like rides on broomsticks. So, I guess she isn't here. But hurry with the magic. We have only two minutes. Then Mama is going to put out the lights."

Little Witch Girl said, "All right." Then she said a rune. But as she was saying the rune, and Amy was straining to catch the words, there came a foreboding buzz, and Little Witch Girl received a tiny swift sting on her hand.

"
THAT BE WRONG
!" warned Malachi.

Alas! Too late Little Witch Girl realized she had made a mistake. In her excitement and joy over being here with Amy, under the little fir tree, she had said the wrong rune. So, the magic that she had rubbed onto the broomstick was the sort that would make it go adventuring as far and as fast as it wanted to. The broomstick, not the rider, would be the one that charted the course. Furthermore, a ride of two minutes on the broomstick might be the same as a ride of two hours, or two days, or even two years! That was the magic sort of time into which the wrong rune Little Witch Girl had said had catapulted the broomstick. The broomstick began to hop up and down from the exceedingly strong dose of magic, and Amy hopped onto it, laughing. "Gracious!" she said.

The little witch girl held it back for a moment. She did not know how to change the wrong magic that she had rubbed onto it. Magic that is very hard to learn cannot be erased in a second. However, in a desperate effort to change it, Little Witch Girl tucked the Malachi rune into the hem of Amy's witch cloak.

"What's that for?" asked Amy as the broomstick left the ground.

"To use in case of gravest trouble," shouted Little Witch Girl.

"
I BE WITH YOU!
" spelled Malachi.

It was a comforting voice to hear as Amy shot straight up in the air like a skyrocket. She held on tightly, and she knew that she would come back eventually because of gravity, magic or not. So, she did not worry about anything except that she hoped the ride would not go over two minutes, that was all. She had to be back at her little table when Mama came up to turn off the lights.

Amy enjoyed the ride. As she shot along, she took in the sights. She saw many real witches flying around, and she was glad she had kept her witch false face on so she could not be distinguished from them. The witches were at their saturnalia, and she joined in on the outskirts for a while, doing pinwheels and then flying on. Amy had not one thing to do about whether she and the broomstick would join in or not. The broomstick decided all.

Once Amy became frightened and her heart beat loudly when she saw the real old witch at one hurly-burly. Old Witch exclaimed right in her ear, "Oh, to glory be!" and, "Heh-heh, great fun, isn't it?" But Old Witch was too full of the glory of being herself and of attracting a great deal of attention to notice that Amy was not a real little witch girl. If

Old Witch had recognized her banquisher, goodness knows what might have happened! "It's lucky I have on a disguise," thought Amy.

"Oh, wicked, wicked me!" Old Witch sang gleefully. Then, followed by some bats and some imps, she went on with her swooping. And Amy went on, on her broomstick.

Then a lucky thing happened for Amy or she might have been carried up to the moon. The broomstick, being small and tender, had grown tired. Happening to glimpse Old Witch's abode on top of the bare, barren, bleak glass hill, it resolved to stay there.

"Probably," thought Amy, half exasperated and half amused, "it's saying, 'I've had enough. I want to go to bed.' It doesn't ask
me
what
I
want. I'd like to go to bed too." No matter how much Amy tried to persuade the broomstick to go again, and this time down—she hoped—it would not comply. It swept itself over to its comfortable corner in Old Witch's house and it stayed there.

And there, in Old Witch's house, Amy had to stay too.

She was stranded in the home of the witch family on top of the bare and bleak glass hill, and she had no way of getting home except by means of the broomstick, which would not take her there. Down below, on beautiful Garden Lane, Mama was probably worrying about her. Amy did not realize that not even a minute had gone by down there and that Mama had not yet gone upstairs to turn off the lights and tuck her and Clarissa in bed.

First Amy went to find Malachi. There he was, looking pale green in the bright moonlight. "I be here," said Amy to him.

"
YES, YOU BE
!" he said—a short sentence, but all that was necessary.

Then Amy sat down in Little Witch Girl's red rocker, which was just like her own, and she rocked back and forth, back and forth. She wondered how she was going to get home; and she wondered about Little Witch Girl—what plight
she
might be in without her broomstick. Looking about in the moonlight, Amy thought how awfully bare and bleak this glass hill was that she had thought up! Not a tree! One might as well be on the moon, the cold moon.

Perhaps Amy should fix it so that Old Witch, now that she was good ("Of course, I know she
is
good," Amy said to herself comfortingly), would not have to live in such bare emptiness anymore. It must be very gloomy for her and for the little witch girl. For Weeny Witchie, too. It must.

And right now, it was also gloomy for Amy. Oh, to be home in bed! Amy was tired of Halloween. Back and forth and back and forth she rocked. She tried not to think what Old Witch would do to her when she came home and found her here. She hoped that Old Witch would have spent all her wickedness by then and that she would not try to eat her up like the old witch tried to in "Hansel and Gretel." "If only at least I had a brother here to help push Old Witch in the oven." Or if only Clarissa, her best friend, were here too.

Oh, dear! If only dear Clarissa
were
here with her! It is ever so much pleasanter to be in a witch house with your best friend than by yourself. The day of Little Witch Girl's party she and Clarissa had had quite a good time here! A happy thought struck Amy. Perhaps as at that party, she would be invisible to Old Witch. Since she was not invisible to herself, she had no way of knowing whether she would be invisible to Old Witch or not. Maybe she should not wait to find out. Maybe she should hide. But where? It was all so shiny up here, and no trees. Maybe she'd better get into Little Witch Girl's bed and pull the covers up over her head and pretend that she was real little witch girl, sound asleep. This seemed like a very good idea, especially as she heard Malachi spell approvingly, "
GOOD!
"

So, Amy courageously tiptoed into the dark witch house and crawled into the brass bed and pulled the black bedclothes up over her head. But she did not like it here at all. If only she were at home, at her little yellow table with Clarissa, drawing! That was the safest spot that she knew of. But she wasn't, alas, she was here. Naturally, she was worried about Old Witch. "Anybody would be," she assured herself. She felt for the little wad of paper the little witch girl had tucked into the hem of her cloak. "In case of gravest trouble," Little Witch Girl had said.

"Well, this isn't trouble at all," said Amy to reassure herself. She was just in a witch house. That wasn't trouble, was it? "Dear Old Witchie isn't going to eat me up. I'm like Daddy," she mused. "I like adventure. This
is
adventure."

All she had to do was wait for Old Witch to come home, take off her shoes, and go to sleep. Then she must outwit her. This much Amy had learned from stories like "Molly Whuppie."

Now and then, to get a breath, Amy peeked out from under the bedclothes. Sometimes the moon, coming out from behind a cloud, shone brightly through the window and onto the little witch girl's bed where Amy lay pondering what to do. The moon seemed to say to her, "I am your friend from Garden Lane." Still, Amy felt lonesome. Two things that she would like most of all in the world right now would be to have Mama tucking her in bed and saying, "Sweet my Amy." The next best would be to have Clarissa here.

Amy turned over. It is not comfortable to be in bed under the bedclothes in a witch costume including the tall witch hat and the mask. Then, tired out, and still thinking of a way to outwit Old Witch when she came home, Amy fell asleep in the witch house with her witch mask on.

But the eyes of Malachi the bumblebee remained wide open and alert, "
I BE HERE! I BE HERE!
" he spelled over and over again, and he kept up a gentle sort of humming and buzzing all night long. This was intended to be reassuring to Amy in case she should wake up and feel afraid. Hearing him, she would be able to think, "Ah, there's Malachi."

When Amy waked up, the moon was gone and the sun was shining. Halloween was over. Yet here she was, still up here in the witch house! How she longed to be home, even having oatmeal, of which she was not very fond, for breakfast. Her mask was all bent and crooked. Straightening it out, she peeked over to Old Witch's bed. Why, for heaven's sake! Old Witch wasn't home yet. Her saturnalia must go on all night and into the next day, luckily for Amy.

Determined to go, somehow or another, before Old Witch did return and see her here in the plain light of day, Amy took the broomstick out onto the rickety front porch and stood it up straight. She thought that the broomstick should take her home, now that morning had come. She thought it must miss the real little witch girl and be tired of a pretend one in a witch disguise. It stood up nicely all by itself. Before getting on, however, Amy tiptoed over to Malachi's sunny corner to make sure he was still there. He was. And he was looking huge, puffed out, and golden in the glinting autumn sunshine. Amy felt the hem of her cloak for the paper that Little Witch Girl had tucked there. It crinkled cosily.

"Malachi," said Amy.

"
YES
," spelled Malachi.