Bed-Knob and Broomstick (2 page)

   
Carey was shocked. This was far from ladylike. "Oh, Miss Price!" she
exclaimed unhappily.

   
"Of keeping your mouths shut," repeated Miss Price slowly, smiling
more unpleasantly than ever.

   
Paul made a little wriggling movement in his chair. "Now she's getting
wicked," he whispered to Carey in a pleased voice.

   
Carey drew away from him as if she had not heard. She looked worried. "What
do you mean, Miss Price? You mean we mustn't tell anyone that-" She hesitated.

   
"That you're a witch?" put in Paul.

   
But Miss Price was still staring, as if she neither heard nor saw. "In
just a minute I'll think of something," she said, as if to herself. "In
just a minute-"
Then Carey did something that Charles thought very brave. She got up from her
chair and sat down beside Miss Price on the sofa.

   
"Listen, Miss Price," she said. "We did try to help you when
you hurt your ankle. There isn't any need to use any
kind of nasty magic on us. If you want to stop us telling, you could do it in
a nice kind of way."
Miss Price looked at her. "How could I do it in a nice kind of way?"
she asked, but she sounded more reasonable.

   
"Well," said Carey, "you could give us something-something magic-and
if we told anyone about you, we'd have to forfeit it. You know, like a game.
Directly we told, the thing would stop being magic."
"What sort of thing?" asked Miss Price, but as if the idea held possibilities.

   
Charles leaned forward. "Yes," he put in, "a ring or something
that we could twist and a slave conies. And, if we told about you, the slave
wouldn't come any more. Couldn't you do that?"
Miss Price looked thoughtful. "I couldn't manage a slave," she said
after a moment.

   
"Well, something like that."
Miss Price sat very quiet. She was thinking hard. "I know," she said
after a while. Suddenly, she seemed quite nice and cheerful again. "There's
something I've been wanting to try out. Mind you, I'm not sure that it will
work. Has anybody got a ring on them?"
Alas, none of them had. Paul felt in his pockets, just in case, but found nothing
but the brass knob he had unscrewed from his bed that morning.

   
"Well, anything. A bracelet would do. It should be something you can twist."
But unfortunately, Carey could not produce a bracelet either. "I have one
at home," she said, "but I only wear it on Sundays."
"You can twist this," cried Paul suddenly, holding out
the bed-knob. "That's just what it does. It twists and it twists and it
twists. I twisted it off," he added rather unnecessarily.

   
Miss Price took the bed-knob and held it thoughtfully between her clean, bony
fingers.

   
"Let me see . . ." she said slowly. Then suddenly she looked up, as
if surprised. "Paul, I believe this is the best thing you could have given
me." Paul squirmed, pleased but bashful. "Now, I could do a wonderful
spell with this-but I must think it out very carefully. Now, be quiet, children,
and let me think-so that I can get this right." Her fingers closed gently
round the shining brass. "This should be very good indeed. Now, quiet,
please!"
The children sat like statues. Even Paul forgot to fidget. A bumblebee came
in through the window and buzzed heavily about the room. Except for this, the
silence was complete.

   
After what seemed a long while, Miss Price opened her eyes. And then she sat
up, blinking and smiling. "There you are, Paul," she said brightly,
and handed him back the bed-knob.

   
He took it reverently. "Is it done?" he asked in an awe-stricken voice.
It looked just the same to him.

   
"Yes, it's quite done," Miss Price told him. "And it's a very
good spell indeed. This is something you'll enjoy. Only don't get yourselves
into trouble."
Carey and Charles were looking enviously at Paul.

   
"What must we do with it?" asked Charles.

   
"Just take it home and screw it back on the bed. But don't screw it right
up. Screw it about halfway."
"And then?"
"And then?" Miss Price smiled. "Twist it a little and wish
-and the bed will take you to wherever you want to go!"
The children gazed unbelievingly at the gleaming ball in Paul's rather grubby
fingers.

   
"Really?" asked Carey with a little gasp.

   
Miss Price was still smiling. She seemed very pleased with herself.

   
"Well, try it."
"Oh, Miss Price!" breathed Carey, still gazing at the knob. "THANK
you."
"Don't thank me," said Miss Price, taking up her knitting again. "Remember
the conditions. One word about me and the spell is broken."
"Oh, Miss Price!" said Carey again. She was quite overcome.

   
"Well, now off you go. It's getting late. As I say, don't get yourselves
into trouble and don't go gallivanting around all night. There should be moderation
in all things-even in magic."
3 A FALSE START
At about ten o'clock next morning, the children were back again. Their faces
were serious and their manner was uncertain.

   
"Could I-" said Carey to the cheerful Agnes, "could we see Miss
Price?" She gave a little swallow, as if she felt nervous.

   
"Miss Price is engaged at the moment," replied Agnes. "Is there
a message?"
"Well-" Carey hesitated. How much did Agnes know? She looked around
at the others. Charles stepped forward.

   
"Could you just tell her," he said, "that it didn't work?"
"It didn't work?" repeated Agnes.

   
"Yes. Just say 'It didn't work.' "
"It didn't work," repeated Agnes to herself, as if memorizing the
message. She disappeared down the passage, leaving the front door open. They
heard her knock. Then, after a minute, Agnes returned.

   
"Miss Price says will you step in."
They were shown once more into the sitting room. Each chose a chair and sat
on the edge of it.

   
"I bet she'll be angry," whispered Paul, breaking the silence.

   
"Shush," said Carey. She looked a little pale.

   
Suddenly the door opened and Miss Price limped in. Her foot was bandaged, and
she wore a carpet slipper, but she was able to walk without a stick. She looked
round from face to face. "It didn't work?" she said slowly.

   
"No," replied Carey, clasping her hands together in her lap.

   
Miss Price sat down in the center of the sofa. They all stared at each other
in silence.

   
"Are you sure you did it right?"
"Yes, just what you said. We half screwed it on, then turned it a little
and wished."
"And what happened?"
"Nothing," said Carey. Paul's eyes, round with accusation, were fixed
on Miss Price's face.

   
"I can't understand it," said Miss Price after a moment. She thought
awhile. "Have you got it with you?" she asked.

   
Yes, Carey had it, in a checked sponge bag. Miss Price drew out the golden ball
and gazed at it nonplussed.

   
"Didn't the bed move at all?"
"Only by Paul bouncing on it."
"It's rusty here at the bottom," said Miss Price.

   
"It was always like that," Carey told her.

   
"Well, I don't know." Miss Price stood up, gingerly putting her strained
foot to the floor. "I'll take it along and test it."
She made a move toward the door.

   
"Could we watch you?"
Miss Price turned back slowly. The circle of eager eyes seemed to hold her.
They saw her hesitate. "Please, Miss Price!" urged Carey.

   
"No one has seen my workroom," said Miss Price. "Not even Agnes."
Carey was going to say, "But we're in the secret," but she thought
better of it and kept quite quiet. Their longing eyes spoke for all of them.

   
"Well, I'll just send Agnes off for the groceries and then I'll see."
She went out. And it seemed an eternity before she called them. Eagerly they
ran out into the passage. Miss Price was putting on a white overall. In her
hand was a key. They followed her down two or three steps into a short dark
passage. They heard the key turn in a well-oiled lock. Miss Price went in first,
then stood aside.

   
"Quietly," she said, beckoning them in. "And careful what you
touch."
The room must at one time have been a larder. There were marble slabs and wooden
shelves above the slabs. The first thing Carey noticed were the glass jars,
each with its typewritten label. Miss Price, a spot of proud pink in each cheek,
ran a hand along the rows.

   
"Toads, hares' feet, bats' wings-oh, dear!" She picked up an empty
jar to which a few damp balls still clung. "I'm out of newts' eyes!"
She peered into the jar before she stood it back upon the shelf; then, taking
up a pencil, she made a note on a memo pad that hung upon, the wall. "They're
almost impossible to get nowadays," she said with a sigh. "But we
mustn't grumble. This is my little filing cabinet where I record results, successful-and
unsuccessful, too, I'm afraid. My notebooks . . ."
Carey, leaning forward, saw these were stout exercise books, neatly labeled.

   
"Spells . . . Charms . . . Incantations," she read aloud.

   
"And I don't suppose any of you know," said Miss Price brightly, "the
difference between a spell and a charm."
"I thought they were the same thing," said Charles.

   
"A-ha," replied Miss Price darkly, but her face was alight with hidden
knowledge. "I only wish a spell were as easy as a charm."
She lifted a spotless piece of butter muslin, and the children peered, not without
a shudder, at what appeared to be a greenish slab of meat. It lay symmetrically
in a gleaming porcelain dish and smelt faintly of chemicals.

   
"What is it?" asked Carey.

   
Miss Price eyed the dish dubiously. "It's poisoned dragon's liver,"
she said uncertainly.

   
"Oh," said Carey politely.

   
Paul pushed up close. "Did you poison the dragon, Miss Price? Or just the
liver?" he added.

   
"Well," admitted the truthful Miss Price, "as a matter of fact,
it came ready prepared. It's part of the equipment."
"It all looks very hygienic," ventured Carey timidly.

   
"My dear Carey," said Miss Price reprovingly, "we have progressed
a little since the Middle Ages. Method and prophylactics have revolutionized
modern witchcraft."
Carey felt Miss Price was quoting from a book, and she longed to know a little
more. "Could I just see Lesson I?" she asked.

   
Miss Price glanced quickly at a pile of folders on an upper shelf, and then
she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Carey. This course is absolutely confidential.
'Any infringement of this regulation,' " she quoted, " 'entails a
fine of not less than two hundred pounds and condemns the offender to chronic,
progressively recurring, attacks of Cosmick Creepus.' "
Paul looked pensive. "It's cheaper to spit in a bus," he announced,
after some seconds of silent thought.

   
Gradually, the children discovered other treasures: a chart on which the signs
of the zodiac were nicely touched up by Miss Price in water color; a sheep's
skull; a chocolate box full of dried mice; herbs in bunches; a pot of growing
hemlock and one of witch's bane; a small stuffed alligator, which hung by two
wires from the ceiling.

   
"What are alligators used for, Miss Price?" asked Paul.

   
Again Miss Price's long training in truthfulness overcame her longing to impress.
"Nothing much," she said. "They're out of date now. I like to
have it there for the look of it."
"It does look nice," Paul agreed rather enviously. He stuck his hands
in his pockets. "I had a dead hen once," he added carelessly.

   
But Miss Price did not hear him. She was arranging three hazel twigs on a shelf
in the form of a triangle. In the center of this, she set the bed-knob.

   
"Now pass me that red notebook, just by your hand, Carey."
"The one marked 'Spells, Elementary'?"
"No, dear. The one marked 'Spells, Advanced, Various.' Really, Carey,"
Miss Price exclaimed, as Carey passed her a book, "can't you read? This
is 'Six Easy Curses for Beginners'. . . ."
"Oh, I'm sorry," cried Carey quickly and looked again. "This
is it, I think."
Miss Price took the book. She put on her spectacles and spent some time gazing
at the open page. Picking up a pencil, she scribbled a few figures on a piece
of shelf paper. She stared at these, and then she rubbed them out with the other
end of the pencil.

   
"Miss Price-" began Paul. "Don't interrupt me," murmured
Miss Price. "Hellebore, henbane, aconite . . . glowworm fire and firefly
light. . . . Better pull down the shades, Carey." "The shades, Miss
Price?" "Yes, over the window. Or we shan't be able to see this
experiment."
Carey pulled down the shades and adjusted them. As the
room became dark, Miss Price exclaimed, "Now, isn't that pretty!"
She sounded surprised and delighted. The children crowded round her and saw
that the bed-knob glowed with a gentle light-pale as early dawn. As they watched,
Miss Price twisted the knob a little, and the pale light turned to rose.

   
"There, you see!" Miss Price said triumphantly. "What's
wrong with that, I'd like to know? Pull up the blinds again, Carey."
Carey rolled up the blinds and hooked the oilcloth on its little hook. Miss
Price slipped an elastic band round the three hazel twigs and tidied up the
notebooks.

   
"Come along," she said cheerfully, opening the door. "The spell
works perfectly. Better than I hoped. I can't imagine where you went wrong."
They followed Miss Price up the stairs, down the passage, and out through the
open door into the garden, where the air was sweet with the smell of sun-wanned
earth. Butterflies balanced precariously on the spears of lavender, and bumblebees
hung in the foxglove bells. A milkman's cart stopped at the gate. There was
a clang of bottles.

   
"Thank you ever so much," said Carey. "We'll try it again this
evening. I did just what you said. I didn't screw it tight at all. I-"
"You?" said Miss Price. "You did it, Carey?"
"Yes. I did it myself. I was very careful. I-"
"But, Carey," said Miss Price, "I gave the spell to Paul."
"You mean Paul should've-?"
"Of course. Paul should have done it. No wonder it didn't work."
Slowly, wonderingly, a grin of ecstasy began to stretch itself across Paul's
face. His eyes gleamed moistly with an almost holy joy.