The Witch Family (11 page)

Meanwhile, in the painting field, Old Witch laughed her "heh-hehs" and "he-he-hes" while swooping here and there, picking up egg after egg (rocks) and ravenously swallowing them whole, eating them as appetizers for the real feast to come—rabbits! She was so greedy and so tired of plain herbs to eat that she did not know the difference between painted rocks and real eggs.

But soon Old Witch became weighted down with the rock eggs she had eaten and she had trouble keeping her broomstick aloft. She decided, "Enough of the eggs!" They really were not quite as good as she remembered them. Now, for rabbits! She dived down and picked one up, not—thank goodness—

Brave Jack, and she ate it, herb-seasoned sawdust and all, with gusto.

Old Witch then ate rabbit after rabbit. Soon she must have eaten about one hundred and one make-believe rabbits, and she was making her way closer and closer to Brave Jack, the lonely sentinel. Now that she was beginning to get filled up, she became more particular about the rabbits she ate. She tried to find the fattest and juiciest ones, the best-seasoned ones. How thankful Jack was that he was not seasoned with sage and parsley! But in her haste and greed Old Witch paid little heed to what sort of rabbit she was eating. She might take a fancy to him, notwithstanding the henbane, he was such a plump and tempting little brown rabbit with such eloquent eyes.

Though a brave rabbit, still Jack quailed when Old Witch swooped down and snatched a toy one just two feet away from him! It had an orange cotton carrot in its mouth, and Old Witch swallowed it, cotton carrot and all, in one loud gulp. Jack was terror-stricken. Old Witch was now at the very entrance way to the cave. It was hard to know whether to give the two-thump signal or the four-thump one. Fortunately, off she swooped, having spotted a rabbit with a crisp bunch of celery in its paws that appealed to her. So, he did not thump at all.

And as if Old Witch were not enough for Jack to have on his mind, he had to consider Tom, too. The witch cat! An old witch, greedy and hungry, may be fooled into thinking that seasoned toy rabbits are real ones, but it is unlikely that a cat, witch or ordinary, can be fooled in this way. And sure enough, the minute Tom had entered the painting field, he had spotted the one real, alive bunny in the picture, Brave Jack!

So, he came sniffing along, dum-de-dum-dum, slowly, deliberately, across the painting field. He stopped at every rabbit he encountered and smelled it thoughtfully and knowingly, as if measuring the amount of sage, say, in it. Then, leaving it untouched, he cleaned his paw, or his ear, and proceeded to the next one. He had but one worry—that possibly Old Witch would grab up the real rabbit before he got to it. Still the game was so delightful that he was willing to take this risk, and he did not race greedily and ignominiously for Jack. Dignity accompanied his thoughtful progress toward his quarry.

But Head Easter Rabbit had laid plans to hoodwink Old Tom as well as Old Witch. He had really thought of every awful possibility. In regard to Tom, this is what he had done. For a distance of about twenty feet in every direction around Brave Jack, the rabbits had scattered catnip in great abundance. Catnip is irresistible to cats, and old witch cat Tom was no exception.

The rain had brought out the fragrance of the catnip, and when Tom reached the twenty-foot line of catnip, he stopped short. Catnip! Tom let out a surprised and delighted miaow. He rubbed his back lovingly against a huge oak tree, and then he lay down in the catnip. He raised all four of his feet in the air and gave a slow, delicious wallow. What a rolling over in the catnip he had! His head spun pleasantly. At last he staggered to his feet and picked up his slow and roundabout advance toward Jack, whom he had not forgotten in the happy intermission. Along the way, he munched on his unusual delicacy in contentment.

Soon, unable to resist the intoxicating effects of the catnip, he had to stop again and have another roll-himself-over. He ate a few more bites and a few more, and soon he had had a few bites too many. Old Tom, the real, right, regular old witch cat, had become tipsy!

Muddled up, he began to pounce on the toy rabbits, first one and then another. He had trouble remembering what he had been looking for. He lurched against one little toy rabbit that could box, and when Tom fell on it, its mechanics began to work. The boxing rabbit and Tom had a few rounds. This struck Old Tom as hilarious, and he began to laugh. He had what is known as a "laughing jag." The laughter of witch cats is on the order of hyenas', and it is awful. It is hard to know which sounded worse to Jack, Old Tom's hyena-like laughter or Old Witch's breathless "heh-hehs." Tom sank down, and, with his back against the trunk of an oak tree and his legs crossed, he stayed there.

"Oh, the hurly-burly," said Old Witch to Tom as she swept by. Can you believe that this old witch was not filled up yet? Now, suddenly, she dived right down on Jack. He felt her hot sage breath on him and nearly fainted with terror. But she smelled the henbane—you can't baffle a witch on herbs—and muttering, "Poison! A trap!" she flung Jack into the brambles.

"Thump! Thump!" went Brave Jack's shovel. He had to let people down below know that he was in the most awful peril they had ever imagined and so were they, for one of Old Witch's feet was almost in the entrance way. "Roll the rocks against the door!" his signal meant, and this, to a man, they began to do.

But Old Witch had had enough. Slinging her bag of what she thought were rabbits and eggs for the little witches—or, she might change her mind and eat them all herself—over her back, Old Witch boosted sleepy Tom onto the broomstick and up and off and away from the painting field they flew.

Saved! They were all saved! Jack gave five thumps of his shovel and the rabbits thronged out. In exhausted relief, they watched Old Witch soar over the oak trees, homeward bound with the toy rabbits and painted rocks. She had not eaten one live rabbit, or one real painted Easter egg, although, so far, she did not know that she had been duped.

Thankful to be alive, the rabbits sat in a circle and listened to Jack's breathtaking account of the raid. Then they looked sadly about them, taking note of the destruction. So many lovely toy rabbits gone! And if not gone, torn to bits! But better they be gone than real ones. The rabbits would have to work doubly hard to make new toy ones, simple toy ones without mechanical works such as eyes that light up when you press a button, or cymbals to clang. If they expected to have anything ready on time for Easter this year, they would have to create just plain little do-nothing rabbits. But they are very nice, too.

"Good-bye, wicked Old Witch," they shouted.

Old Witch was so weighted down with rocks and rabbits that she barely cleared the ginkgo trees of Garden Lane. But Old Witch did not care.

"Oh, the hurly-burly," she muttered tiredly but happily. "Oh, to glory be!" She pronounced the proper incantation to make her broomstick go higher, for she did not wish to linger on Garden Lane, street of the banquisher, and be discovered in her wickedness.

"Ouch," she said to herself. "My stomach aches."

"
THAT BE LIKELY
," spelled a somber voice.

Old Witch urged her broomstick to get her to her rickety old front porch and rocker as soon as possible. Creaking and groaning, the broomstick gained a little height. Slowly Old Witch flew away on the return trip home.

Amy and Clarissa peeked out from under the quilt. "The sun's come out," said Amy. "Let's go out and swing." And they did.

While Old Witch had been engaged in her delightful rabbit wickedness in the painting field, Little Witch Girl and little Weeny Witchie had been on a pretty picnic with no witch wickedness involved.

"Would you like me to take you to the mermaid lagoon?" Little Witch Girl had asked Weeny Witchie in low, crooning tones.

"Cr-cr-cr," gurgled Beebee, moistening her lips and shaking a few sparks out of her fingers.

Guessing that these little croaks and sparks meant "yes," the little witch girl gave Beebee a hug. Then she said she would pack a surprise picnic for the little mermaid and
her
baby sister. She made sandwiches out of herbs. These may not sound very good to you, but the little witch girl was used to them and knew nothing about hot dogs and potato chips. She also packed a bottle of herb formula for Beebee.

The weather was stormy, but this does not matter to witches. In fact, they like it. And the stormy weather provided Little Witch Girl with a good excuse to put Beebee's little black bunny suit on her. Beebee screamed and kicked and grew red in the face while she was being tucked into it. But when all was over and she was as warm and snug as she could be, she said "Abr" happily. Little Witch Girl straightened out Beebee's witch hat and all was ready.

She strapped Beebee onto her broomstick and climbed on herself. She held tightly to her little sister, and in this safe fashion they slowly glided down the glass hill to the secret opening. Then slowly they flew down the magical passageway to the mermaid lagoon.

There, by the pool, they saw Lurie. She was singing gently and rocking Babay in her lap. "One little, two little, three little mermaids," she sang. "Oh!" she exclaimed, interrupting her song. "Is that your little sister?"

Little Witch Girl nodded proudly. "Her name be Beebee!" she said.

"She be cute!" said the little mermaid, and she helped Little Witch Girl to get Beebee out of her bunny suit. Beebee objected to this as much as she had at being put into it. But when they laid Weeny Witchie on a smooth pink rock, hollowed out as though by the sea, she said "Abr" again very happily.

"Just doesn't like to get in and out of bunny suits," explained Little Witch Girl to the little mermaid.

They put the mermaid baby in a shallow pool next to Beebee, and she splashed her hands and her tail in the water. Beebee liked the sight and shook out some sparks for the little mermaid. Both gurgled happily throughout the picnic.

"I hoped you would come today," the little mermaid said. "Isn't it real witch weather outside? I can tell because of the light in here." Without sun shining through, and without its usual myriads of pure colors, the glass hill seemed like a pearl, a dreamy, misty pearl.

Little Witch Girl nodded. How lovely it was to be here, she thought.

Then she and the little mermaid spread out the picnic on a large, flat, white rock. Little Witch Girl and Beebee had never tasted sardines before, but they thought they were very good. As for the little mermaid, she enjoyed the herb sandwiches, which, she claimed, were on the order of seaweed ones. She picked off some pretty colored crystals from the wall for everyone to suck on for dessert, and these tasted like rock candy.

"How beautiful it is in here!" said the little witch girl. "How quiet!" she breathed.

Quiet! At this moment, from far away at the end of the glass passageway, horrible croaks and gasps and incantations and puffs and abracadabras and "up-you-go's" and grunts could suddenly be heard.

"Oh!" exclaimed Little Witch Girl in terror. Was Old Witch on her way in here? Had she discovered the secret of the glass hill, this place of enchantment deep within it? She might eat up the little mermaid and Babay in hopes they were fish!

Weeny Witchie recognized the voice of her beloved old gammer Old Witch and crowed happily. "Abr, abr, abr," she squealed to make her gammer hear, and she sent a shower of sparks down the passageway.

However, Babay did not like the awful sounds, and she cried piteously. The little mermaid had to take her up in her arms and croon to her. And Little Witch Girl quickly clasped Weeny Witchie's hands together so she could not send any more sparks afloat down the tunnel and give away the secret of the lagoon to Old Witch.

At last the grunts, croaks, gasps, and incantations sounded fainter. Old Witch must be leaving. With her going, the black clouds outside apparently lifted. Twinkling colors gradually reappeared inside the lagoon; the sun was probably coming out; and it was time for the little witches to go home.

The little mermaid gave each of the little witches a piece of blue and red glass to look through. Beebee gurgled happily and, being distracted at the view of the pool through red glass, she did not object to being put into her hot black bunny suit and tied onto the broomstick.