Magic or Not?, Page 2

  all the dishes to be washed and stacked on shelves, and after that most of the furniture had to be moved from the places where they'd told the moving men to put it to the other places where on second thought they all agreed it looked lots better.

  It was late in the afternoon when the family assembled dustily in the living room.

  "The things from the apartment look kind of skimpy in all this space, don't they?" said James.

  "Never mind. We'll find wonderful things here. There'll be auctions," said their mother, the gleam of the antique-hunter in her eye.

  "Auctions!" James and Laura savored the word, remembering sundry movies in which people went to auctions and bought old chests that contained maps of buried treasure in secret drawers.

  "What's an auction?" said Deborah.

  "Generally," said their father, collapsing on the sofa and flicking a curlicue of china-packing newspaper from his right eyebrow, "it is a snare and a delusion. Never have I been so weary. I thought tonight we'd all go out to dinner. Now I doubt if I can face it."

  Their mother looked round at their tired faces. "Baths for everybody," she announced, "and pajamas and early bed. There's canned soup in the carton with the pots and pans."

  "You think of everything," said their father admiringly.

  The canned soup was tomato and pea mixed, which is delicious. It was consumed in silence, save for the crunching of saltines. And then everyone staggered upstairs.

  Laura was brushing her hair dreamily before her dressing-table mirror when she heard the hoofbeats. She ran to the window.

  It was night, but the moon had risen. In the moonlight a black horse galloped along the edge of the road past the house (keeping off the pavement, which is bad for horses' hoofs). And riding the horse, her fair hair streaming on the wind, was a girl. It was the girl from the train.

  "She is magic!" gasped Laura. "Something's going to happen!"

  She would have run for the wishing well, but the horse and the girl were gone now. The hoofbeats died away in the distance. Laura decided she'd sit down on the bed for a minute first. Then she decided she'd lie back on the pillow, just for a second.

  How long after that it was that she heard the sound, Laura never knew. It was a creaking sound, just the kind of noise that magic might make if it were winding the bucket up from its watery depths to get at the wish. But would magic do that? Wouldn't it sooner dive down the well and grant the wish from there? Or even more likely, wouldn't it live at the bottom and catch the wishes as they came down?

  She must run to the window again and see what was happening. Any second now she would. But sleep was all around her, like a downy, feathery, pillowy cloud. She sank into it.

  The next thing she knew, it was morning.

  2. The Witch's Garden

  It will hardly be believed that Laura didn't leap from her bed with her first waking thought and rush to the wishing well to see if the noise in the night had been magic and, if so, what it had accomplished. But she didn't.

  Waking up for the first time in a new place has a magic of its own that can drive all other thoughts out of your head, and it was that way with Laura.

  The first thing she heard when she woke up was a lawn mower and the first thing she thought was, "James!"

  It was James's habit always to wake up early and get any dull tasks out of the way before settling down to the day's round of pleasure. And Mother had said last night that "that lawn" was a disgrace and positively had to be mowed this morning. And Father had said that there was an old rusty hand-wheeled mower in the shed that "would do" till he got another.

  Laura jumped out of bed. Even lawn-mowing has its charms when you've lived in a city apartment all your life and never had a lawn to mow. And besides, there is something about the sound of other people's labor on a sunny July morning that stirs the belated slugabed.

  Laura hurried through breakfast and dishes and ran out the back door, slamming the screen behind her. Then she stopped short.

  Sitting on a rock watching James work was a strange boy. The boy had curly yellow hair and a beagle dog. He was sucking a Popsicle, grape from the color. He and James were not communicating, but James's back as he pushed the mower along had a self-conscious look, as if he were all too aware of his audience.

  "Boys!" thought Laura. "Honestly! They'd probably just stay like that all day and never say a word to each other if somebody sensible didn't come along!"

  She walked up to the strange boy. "My name's Laura," she said. "What's yours?"

  "Kip," said the boy.

  "Short for Christopher?" said Laura.

  "That's right," said the boy.

  James stopped mowing and came nearer, but warily, as if the boy might bite.

  "What's your dog's name?" said Laura.

  "Alice," said the boy.

  "Why?" said Laura. As soon as she'd said it, she knew the answer. "Because she goes down rabbit holes?"

  "That's right," said the boy.

  Suddenly they all three grinned and relaxed, and after that it was as though they'd known each other all along.

  "We just moved here," confided Laura, "from New York."

  "I know," said the boy. "We live up the road. I saw the moving van. My Pop works in New York. He's in advertising."

  "This is a lousy lawn mower," said James.

  "I could see that," said the boy. "I was thinking. Why don't you borrow ours?"

  "Power?"

  "Sure."

  "The kind you sit in and drive?"

  "That's right."

  "Lead me to it."

  "Honestly!" said Laura to herself, as she followed them around the house. "Practically arms-around-the-neck friends now, and he could still be pushing that rusty old thing if I hadn't broken the ice! Honestly, boys! Deliver me!"

  They walked up the road, the dog Alice trotting on before, looking back over her shoulder every few steps and smiling to see that they were still there. Just around the first bend they passed an old rutted driveway James didn't remember noticing before. It wound up over a hill to disappear in dark woods. "Who lives there?" he wondered.

  "Lydia Green," said Kip. "She's crazy."

  "Crazy?" said James.

  "Well, not crazy exactly. Kind of wild," said Kip. "She lives with her grandmother. She can't do a thing with her."

  "Who can't do a thing with which?" said James.

  "Neither one," said Kip.

  They both giggled. "Like a couple of fools," sniffed Laura to herself. Then she had a sudden thought. "This Lydia. Does she have long hair? Does she ride a black horse?"

  "Night and day," said Kip. "My mother says it's a scandal."

  "I think we met her on the train," said Laura. "I think I saw her again last night. Her grandmother's a witch, she said."

  "Nah," said Kip. "Just an artist. She's kind of eccentric, though. They both are."

  "Oh," said Laura.

  She would have gone on, to tell about the wishing well and the wish she'd made, but the boys were deep in talk about power mowers again. And besides, they would laugh at her. And besides, they were turning into Kip's driveway now.

  Kip's house was old, but not so old as theirs, and painted light yellow with white shutters. His mother seemed to be an understanding type, and the power mower was secured without hostilities.

  Back at the red house, James and Laura took turns using it. Neither of them had ever even seen a power mower close up before, and learning how to run it was exciting, so exciting that Laura again forgot all about the girl on the train. The whole backyard and most of the side were finished before her first fine careless rapture flagged.

  "I'll run it awhile now, if you're both tired," volunteered Kip, and he headed the mower toward the front of the house.

  "He's nice, isn't he?" said Laura to James.

  "He's a good kid," said James.

  "Do you suppose he'll be our best friend?" said Laura. "Do you suppose we'll go on wonderful, exciting adventures together?"

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p; "Holy gee!" said James. "What good does it do, wondering about things like that? Wait and see." He snorted. "Honestly. Girls!"

  "Hey," called Kip, from the frontyard. "Hey, this is a dangerous place to leave kittens."

  "What?" said James.

  "What?" said Laura, in a different tone. She caught her breath and her eyes shone.

  They both ran round the house to where Kip stood by the well. He had climbed down from the mower and was bending over something on the edge of the stone wellhead.

  James and Laura crowded close. What he was looking at was a basket with a lid, and from under the lid came a mewing sound.

  "Let me," said Laura. She lifted the lid. Inside the basket was a squirming piebald bundle that untangled itself and turned into two kittens, a black one and a white.

  "Night and Day," said Kip.

  "Shadow and Substance," said James.

  "No such thing," said Laura. "It's Blackmalkin and Whitemalkin. They're magic." And then and there she told the other two all about the wishing well and her wish and the night ride of the girl Lydia and the creaking sound she'd heard afterwards.

  "Double Magic," said Kip. "You only wished for one. That's better than Half by a long shot."

  "Oh, have you read that, too?" said Laura, for the book called Half Magic was one of her favorites.

  "Sure," said Kip. "I guess just about everyone has."

  "I don't know," said James. "Prob'ly they're not magic at all. Prob'ly it's all a hoax. Prob'ly that girl Lydia did it."

  Laura was turning the handle that wound up the rope that brought up the bucket. "She couldn't have," she said, as it came into view. "There's my wish, all crumpled up, just the way I threw it in."

  "It made a creaking sound when you wound it," said James. "That's what you heard last night. Prob'ly that Lydia crumpled the wish up and let it down again after she'd read it."

  "It would be just like her," said Kip. "She's kind of crafty."

  "I don't believe it," said Laura. "I'm going to go over there right now and ask her." And she marched out of the gate and up the road, slightly impeded by the kittens that were crawling up her front and wreathing themselves around her neck.

  "Here, let me carry one," said Kip, catching up with her.

  "You can take Whitemalkin," said Laura. "Blackmalkin's mine."

  James appeared on Laura's other side. He was carrying the empty basket. "Important evidence," he said, swinging it round his head. "Exhibit A!"

  They rounded the bend in the road and turned into the overgrown driveway that said "Green" on an old faded sign half-hidden by a tangle of poison ivy.

  "What'll you wish for next if the magic's real?" said Kip. "Do you suppose you get three wishes each? Do you suppose I get to wish, too? Or would it be just for the actual owners, do you suppose?"

  "If it's only three wishes," said James to Laura, "you've wasted one already. Kittens!"

  "They're not a waste!" said Laura indignantly, stroking Blackmalkin.

  "Purr," said Blackmalkin.

  "Ickle poo," said Laura, ruffling the fur under its chin.

  "Ugh!" said James, turning away from the sickening sight.

  The dog Alice trotted before them. She had welcomed the arrival of the kittens philosophically, as she did all the strange happenings of the wonderful human world. But now suddenly she stopped in her tracks. Her hackles, if that was the right word, rose. She whined and muttered in her throat. It was eerie.

  The three children stopped, too, and looked where Alice was looking.

  In the woodsy shadows of the drive ahead, a figure was stumping along. At first it seemed bent out of all human form, but as it came nearer, they saw that it was an old woman with flyaway gray hair. The reason she looked so lopsided was that she was carrying an easel and an immense blank canvas and an oversize paintbox. All three things kept slipping and had to be hoisted.

  "It's the grandmother," hissed Laura to James. "It's the old witch!"

  "Shush," hissed James to Laura. "Good morning, ma'am," he said aloud, as the figure came within earshot. Alice got behind Kip and pretended to be invisible.

  Old Mrs. Green did not appear to have heard James. She was glaring at the woods by the side of the drive. "Maple trees, maple trees," she was muttering, "that's all there is to paint around here!" Then she seemed to notice the three children for the first time and regarded them with a piercing gaze. "If you're giving away cats," she said, "we don't want any. I can't abide 'em."

  Laura was outraged. "We're not giving them away," she said. "I wouldn't give them away for anything. And they're not cats, they're kittens."

  "That won't last," said old Mrs. Green. "That's the tragedy of it."

  "Can I help you carry those things, ma'am?" asked Kip politely.

  Old Mrs. Green let the piercing gaze dwell on him for a long time. "Young man," she said at last, "I've been toting this truck around since before you were born. I plan to go on doing it for a few years still!" She started past them. Then she seemed to relent and turned. "If you're looking for Lydia," she said, "she's in the barn with that fool horse. Pesky thing. I say it's got the evil eye!" And she went stumping on down the driveway. "Maple trees, maple trees, I swear I'll move to Maine!" the three children heard her muttering. Then she was gone.

  Laura and James and Kip looked at each other and giggled. But the giggle was halfhearted. Old Mrs. Green was funny, but there was more to her than that. Witch or not, she was a character. Meeting a character ought to make a promising start to any morning, and yet the feet of the three children lagged as they went on up the driveway. Alice hung behind and whimpered.

  Around the next bend they came in sight of the house. It was a big house, built in the hideous beetle-browed style of 1905. Leggy, undipped shrubs masked its windows, and overgrown vines clung to the eaves and had their way with the shingles.

  "It must be dark as pitch inside," said Laura.

  To one side of the house was a big sagging barn, and coming from its doorway now was the girl Lydia. She wore riding breeches, an old patched flannel shirt, and a frown that deepened as she saw James and Laura and Kip.

  "Oh," she said.

  "Well?" said James.

  "What do you want?" said the girl.

  "As if you didn't know," said James.

  Kip was more diplomatic. "We wanted to have a talk," he said.

  For some reason this seemed to make the strange girl Lydia even crosser. "Go away," she told him, in what was almost a snarl. She turned her back on him and spoke to Laura and James. "I suppose you've heard all about me by now. Nobody in this town has any use for me and I haven't any use for them."

  Something about the way she said it made Laura

  want to be nicer. She didn't care if the boys believed or not. "It worked!" she said, smiling at the girl and holding up Blackmalkin.

  Lydia regarded her coldly. "What worked?"

  "The magic!" said Laura. "The wishing well, just the way you said! I wished for a kitten and got two!"

  "Just as if you didn't know that!" said James.

  "I don't know what you mean," said Lydia.

  Laura refused to be dampened. "This one's Blackmalkin," she said, holding the black kitten up, "and the other one's Whitemalkin."

  "Like The Midnight Folk," said Lydia, with her first approach to being human.

  "Oh, have you read that, too?" Laura beamed, and even James relaxed a little.

  "Dozens of times," said Lydia.

  "I never heard of it," said Kip.

  "You wouldn't," said Lydia, without looking at him.

  Laura felt discouraged again. "The trouble is," she said, "they think you rode over on your horse in the night and read the wish and left the kittens there to fool us."

  "Do they?" said Lydia. "What do you think?"

  "I thought so, too, for a while," admitted Laura. Then she made up her mind. "Now I don't anymore." She touched the kitten's fur. "I know I couldn't give Blackmalkin away to anyone! So how could you?"

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bsp; Lydia regarded the black kitten with rather a strange expression, "Yes," she said. "Yes, there is that." Then she seemed to shrug the whole problem away. "Well," she said, "so now you know. You've got magic. Have fun with it." And she started for the house.

  "Wait!" cried Laura.

  Lydia turned and looked at her. Laura didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. "Couldn't we share it?"

  "How do you mean?"

  "Couldn't we sort of have our wishes together? All four of us? It'd be more fun."

  Lydia looked as though she couldn't believe her ears. But James was still suspicious.

  "Or even better," he said, "couldn't you show us some of your magic right here, without any old well?"

  The friendliness went out of Lydia's eyes. "I don't know what you mean," she said again.

  "You have lots of it, lying around," said James. "You said your grandmother's a witch."

  "Did I say that?" Lydia looked shamefaced, then defiant. "Well, she is, sometimes."

  "Show us some," said James stubbornly. Laura could have hit him. Even the good-natured Kip fidgeted uncomfortably.

  Lydia looked at the ground. Then she looked up. "All right," she said grimly. "Follow me."

  She started past the house, not looking back to see whether they were following or not. Of course they were.

  Beyond the house was an old tumble-down stone wall with a gate in it. Lydia opened the gate and went through it and down some steps, with the others trailing after.

  "There," she said. "Doesn't that look like a witch's garden?"

  It did.

  None of the three children knew much about flowers, and only Laura cared about them much, but all of them had seen enough gardens to realize that mostly they were planted three or six or a dozen of a kind, in ordered rows or artistic drifts. Here there were no two plants alike and they grew every which way, big plants in front of small ones, vines clambering over bushes. It was as though nobody cared where or how they grew, so long as they grew. Parts of the garden were weeded, but most of it wasn't. Some of the plants were strange looking, almost evil.

  "That's a pitcher plant. It eats flies," said Lydia, pointing. "That's a Venus's-flytrap. So does it."