What the Witch Left (9 page)

“Well, what made you eat
three
pieces of fudge?” asked Nora.

“I didn’t mean to, but you know how it is with that fudge.” The cat looked at
Nora with wide yellow eyes. “It sure was a mistake. After I’d eaten that third piece, both birds flew out the kitchen window into the tree. They said they wouldn’t come back till Maggie came home. They didn’t seem to trust
me
.” The tip of Tad’s yellow tail twitched. “I didn’t think that sparrow knew how to fly,” he said.

“Where did you get the idea to disguise Lew as a bookend?” Nora wanted to know.

“That was the lizard’s own idea,” said Tad. “He said he could stand like that for hours. It’s just lucky nobody touched him!”

The door of the house next door opened, and Miss Feldman came out on the stoop. She was smiling. “Good-bye, Mrs. Brown,” she called back over her shoulder. “Remember to save me one of those kittens you told me about.”

Tad jumped off Nora’s lap and ran up
the steps next door and through the open doorway. Nora started to follow him.

Mrs. Hastings was standing inside the door. She was talking to Maggie, who leaned over the bannister of the stairs. “Could you give me the recipe for that wonderful fudge?” said Mrs. Hastings.

“I wish I could,” said Maggie Brown, “but it’s a family secret.” The witch rubbed her chin. Then she smiled. “Tell you what I’ll do, Mrs. Hastings. I’ll give you a piece every day.”

Nora stood on the front stoop outside the door. She wondered if Mrs. Hastings would like the animals only part of the day and want to get rid of them the rest of the time. Or maybe she’d get to like them all the time once she started.

Nora heard her mother calling her for lunch. She went back to her own house. “Tad’s eating lunch at Mrs. Brown’s,” she said. “He’s been helping her today.”

“That’s good,” said Mrs. Cooper. “I’m glad you children have gotten over that silly notion about Mrs. Brown. You see how right I was when I told you there’s no such thing as a witch.”

L
ET THE MAGIC CONTINUE….

Here’s a peek
at another bewitching tale
by Ruth Chew.

Excerpt copyright © 1973 by Ruth Chew.
Published by Random House Children’s Books,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

“What do you keep in here, Katy?” Louise walked over to the tall chest of drawers in the corner of Katy’s room. The chest was dark and old and covered with scratches.

Katy put down the black jelly bean she was using for an eyebrow pencil. “I’m not supposed to touch the stuff in that chest. My mother stores things in it.”

Louise pulled open the top drawer. The smell of mothballs filled the air. “Isn’t that the sweater you wore last year, Katy? And here’s your tweed skirt.”

Katy shut the drawer. “They’re too small for me,” she said. “And I told you Mother doesn’t want me going into the chest. Do you want to get me into trouble?”

Louise looked out of the window at
the pouring rain. “I’m bored,” she said, “and I’m your guest, Katy. It’s your duty to amuse me.” She opened the second drawer. It was filled with old sheets and blankets. “It won’t hurt to
look
at the things,” Louise said, “not that they’re all that interesting.”

The third drawer held a lot of old handbags. “I sometimes play with those,” Katy admitted, “but I always put them back just the way they were, so Mother won’t notice.”

The bottom drawer was locked. “The stuff in there belongs to Aunt Martha,” Katy said. “She left it here ages ago when she went on a trip.”

“Where’s the key to the drawer?” Louise wanted to know.

“I think Mother hid it in her night table,” Katy said. “I found a key there one day when I was looking for some Scotch tape.”

“Your mother isn’t home,” Louise said.

Katy grinned. She ran out of the room and came back a few moments later with a little key. It was worn and old, but it fitted into the lock of the bottom drawer and turned easily.

Katy opened the drawer. Louise reached in and took out a little round mirror with a curly handle and a tarnished silver frame.

“We have to remember exactly how the things fit in,” Katy said.

“Of course.” Louise put the mirror on the floor and lifted a pile of cloth out of the drawer. When she shook it, the cloth unfolded. It was a long bathrobe with a big floppy hood. The cloth was worn thin in places, but it was still brightly colored in a strange pattern.

“Great for playing dress-up,” Louise said.

“We’re only going to
look
at the things, not play with them,” Katy reminded her. She saw something that looked like a rolled-up pair of faded nylon stockings. “I wonder why Aunt Martha would leave these here.” She picked them up. They turned out to be a pair of flesh-colored gloves. Katy put them on. They fitted perfectly. “Look, Louise,” she said, “aren’t these funny?”

“Aren’t what funny?” Louise asked.

Katy stretched out her hands. “The gloves,” she said.

“I don’t see any gloves.” Louise put down the bathrobe and pulled a pair of battered red rubber boots out of the drawer. “Your aunt never throws
anything
away, does she?”

Katy looked at the gloves again. They were the same color as her hands. She couldn’t see them, and she couldn’t even feel them.