Little Witch Read online

  To think that this wonderful girl wanted to come to her house! Minx felt as if there were wings wafting her along.

  At last they came to Frances’s house, and it was just the sort of house that Minx wished she lived in: white and green, spruce and gay, with a garden all around.

  “Just wait till you meet my great-grandmother!” said Frances. “You’ll wish you never had to go home again!”

  Minx was wishing that already, with all her heart.

  3

  THE FLYING BROOMSTICK

  Frances led the way into the kitchen, stepping expertly over a scooter, a pair of skates, and a pile of building blocks.

  “Grandma,” she said, “Here’s my new friend, Minx.”

  Grandma looked up from the small boy over whom she was bending, vigorously scrubbing his neck.

  Minx was a bit startled to see that she had a hat on—a remarkable hat with gay piles of fruit and intertwining leaves. But it could not quite hide her silver-white hair, and it seemed to accentuate the blue of her eyes and the pink of her cheeks.

  Her smile shone from her face like a star, as she said, gaily, “Hello, Minx! I’m glad to see you. Stop squirming, George! I don’t believe you’ve washed your neck in a week!”

  George was struggling to escape the washcloth,—and at the same time trying to observe the visitor.

  He was blond and round-faced like his sister, and about six years old.

  “Why have you got your hat on, Grandma?” asked Frances.

  “I was just on my way down to the library. But when I saw George’s neck I knew I couldn’t set foot outside this house till I washed it!”

  She released the resentful George.

  “It’s not that I mind necks a little bit dirty, but when they get that black—”

  She was interrupted by a terrible commotion just outside, and then three more children, all fair haired and rosy, came piling in, everyone talking at the same time.

  “Here are my sister Alice and my brothers Bob and Jack,” said Frances. “Alice is five, Bob is seven, and Jack is eight. Kids, this is my new friend, Minx.”

  “How lovely to have such a large family,” said Minx, enviously.

  “Yes, lovely!” said Grandma. “But I don’t get a moment to breathe, hardly. Their mother and father are dead, and I take care of them, single-handed. I really love doing it, but I wish I had some time to give to my painting.”

  “Grandma loves to paint,” explained Frances. “She just took it up last year, but she doesn’t have much time to do it.”

  “Wait till we grow up, Gram,” piped George.

  Grandma laughed. “Yes! I’ll be only about ninety then! Well, I’ve got to be going. Have fun, children, and don’t wreck the house too much!”

  After she had left, Bob, who had been staring intently at Minx, said, “Say—I know who you are. You’re the witch child!”

  Alice gave a shriek.

  “Oh Alice, don’t be silly,” said Frances. “Minx is a very nice girl. She won’t hurt you.”

  Both Alice and George backed away, fearfully.

  “Say,” said Jack, “tell us what it’s like to be a witch.”

  “I don’t like to be a witch,” said Minx, unhappily. “I’d like to be just like other children.”

  “But don’t you know lots of magic?” persisted Jack.

  “I know some,” admitted Minx, rather proudly.

  “Tell us,” said Bob. “What sort of things can you do?”

  “Well, I can put magic powders in my mother’s kettle and strange things happen like balloons and toads and centaurs coming out.”

  “Gee!” said Bob.

  “Can you ride on a broomstick?” asked George.

  “Oh sure,” said Minx, scornfully. “That’s easy as pie!

  “Minx,” said Frances, “do you suppose that some time you could let us ride on your broomstick?”

  “Oh sure,” said Minx. “I’ll bring it to school tomorrow.

  “And won’t you let us see you stir up the magic in the kettle?” asked Bob.

  Minx hesitated. “Well—you’d have to come at night.”

  “Oh, we could do that!” cried Jack.

  “How could we, silly?” demanded Frances. “You know perfectly well that Grandma doesn’t allow us out after dark!”

  The faces of all the children fell, and groans proceeded from every bosom.

  “I’m trying an experiment now,” said Minx. “I’m trying to find just the right mixture to make a fairy appear.”

  Instantly everyone became excited again.

  “Oh, we’ll just have to go!” cried Frances. “Maybe Grandma will let us if we don’t stay too late!”

  Minx glanced out the window and noticed that it was getting dark. “I think I’d better go,” she said, anxiously. “My mother will be waking up, and she’ll be simply furious!”

  “Oh, do you have to go yet?” cried Frances. “Just let me give you something to eat first!”

  Minx was more than willing to wait for this, as she was feeling very groggy from hunger.

  Frances quickly filled a large glass with milk and made her a thick sandwich with plenty of lettuce and peanut butter.

  “Oh, gosh,” said Minx, from a full mouth. “I never tasted anything so good!”

  She ate two sandwiches, six cookies, and drank two glasses of milk. She had never eaten so much before at one meal, and her stomach felt very uncomfortable.

  All the children accompanied her to the door and Jack even dragged the scooter out of her way.

  “Are you going to work on your experiment tonight?” asked Frances.

  “Just as soon as my mother leaves,” said Minx. “She always goes when it gets dark.”

  “If we can, we’ll come over. O.K.?” said Frances.

  “O.K.!” said Minx. “I hope you can come!”

  She ran swiftly through the darkening streets, hoping desperately that the witch would still be asleep.

  But as soon as she hurried up the stairs, her heart sank to the soles of her feet for there was Madam Snickasnee standing in the doorway, her red eyes gleaming maliciously through the dark. Minx’s first impulse was to turn and run like a hare; but Madam Snickasnee reached out a large, skinny hand and grabbed her by the ear.

  “Come in here, you wicked thing!” she screeched. “Where have you been till this hour?”

  Minx tried to speak, but the words seemed to shrivel in her throat.

  “Well, where’s your tongue, miss? Nothing to say, eh? Just remember the flowerpots! Don’t take it for granted that you’re so safe!”

  With relief, Minx watched her pick up her broom and straddle it.

  “I won’t even ask you to come with me tonight,” snarled Madam Snickasnee. “I wouldn’t care for your high and mighty company. But see to it that tonight you make the Black Spell Brew, or something much worse will happen to you than just going hungry!”

  With that threat, she soared off into the sky.

  Minx sighed and went directly to the shelves to start preparing the Black Spell Brew. All sorts of dreadful things went into it, such as dried toads’ and snakes’ blood, and crushed toadstools.

  As she stirred it and watched the horrible dark mixture bubble and steam, she felt very unhappy.

  “I wish my mother would stop enchanting children,” she thought. “Just think! Maybe she might even enchant Frances or her sister and brothers.”

  This thought struck her so hard that she forgot to stir the brew, and stood horrified, staring into space.

  Just then she heard a scuffling noise outside; next, a timid knock sounded on the door. Her heart leaped up in joy, for she knew it must be her new friends.

  When she opened the door she saw that they were all there, from Frances down to Alice.

  “Grandma said we could stay an hour,” said Frances. “So let’s hurry and try the experiment.”

  “I want to see a fairy,” said Alice.

  “Well, first I’ll have to pour out this stuff
and wash out the pot,” said Minx.

  She poured the Black Spell Brew into bottles while the children looked on curiously.

  “What’s that?” asked Jack.

  “Oh that,” said Minx, uncomfortably. “That’s just a brew.”

  Bob wanted to know what kind of brew it was; but Minx pretended not to hear him.

  “Now,” she said, “we’ll wash out the pot, and then we’ll be all set to try the experiment! Maybe it will work tonight!”

  4

  THE WATER NIXIE

  “Now,” said Minx, “let me decide what powder to use this time!”

  The children stood staring with round eyes at the rows and rows of mysterious bottles.

  “Choose the green one!” cried George.

  “No, take the blue!” begged Alice.

  “George asked first, so I’ll take green this time,” said Minx.

  She dumped some of the green into the magic kettle, and immediately it bubbled up into a frothy mass.

  The children were silent with wonder as she stirred the green mixture.

  “Don’t you have to say any magic words while you do that?” asked Jack.

  “Like abra-ca-dabra,’” said Bob.

  “Oh my goodness,” said Minx, loftily, “that’s old-fashioned stuff. Witches don’t do that sort of thing anymore! In the old days they even used to have to go out and catch their own hats and toads and stuff to make their powders out of. Now it all comes out of bottles.”

  “Where do you buy them?” asked Frances.

  “My mother sends for everything from the Witches’ Market. That’s located near the Never-Never Land. They send her a catalog, and she orders from that.”

  Now the vapor was filling the room, and something was taking shape.

  The children were quiet as shadows, gazing in fascination. Alice, however, began to feel rather frightened, and started to move toward the door.

  “Oh,” said Minx, in a soft, breathless voice, “I believe it is—I believe it is!”

  The face that appeared was thin and sharply pointed toward the chin. The skin was of the palest green, the eyes were large and filled with strange lights, and the hair was long, green, and dripping with water.

  At last a slim girl body, draped in a clinging silvery green garment, took form, and leaped to the floor as lightly as a sunbeam.

  “Are you a fairy?” asked Minx, tremulously.

  “She has no wings,” said George, skeptically.

  The creature laughed with a sound like water splashing softly on pebbles.

  “Of course I’m not a fairy, you funny child,” she said. “Don’t you know what I am?”

  They all shook their heads, solemnly.

  “I’m a nixie!” She danced around the room like a jet of spray.

  “What’s a nixie?” asked Alice.

  “A nixie, poor ignorant girl child, is a sprite of the water.”

  “You mean—there are things—I mean people like you, living in the water?” said Frances.

  “Of course! Only it’s not often anyone is granted the wonderful privilege of seeing us. I hope you appreciate your good fortune!”

  She began to leap and twirl again, light as spindrift.

  “Oh, yes we do,” said Frances, gravely.

  The nixie finished her dance and said, “Now tell me what you want me for. I’m beginning to feel uncomfortably dry and warm, and I’ll have to return to my lake soon.”

  “Well, I didn’t really want you,” said Minx.

  The nixie looked quite hurt, and green tears began to slip down her cheeks. “You didn’t really want to s-see me?”

  “Oh, of course we’re glad to see you,” Minx reassured her, “but I’ve been trying and trying to make a fairy appear.”

  “Oh my goodness!” cried the nixie. “Fairies! They’re so ordinary! I know simply hundreds of them, and they’ve got no more personality than a—than a clam shell!”

  “But we would like to see one anyway,” said Alice.

  ‘Well—maybe I can help you! Why don’t you try—”

  At this moment, to the children’s utter disappointment, the nixie became vapor again, and slipped through the window.

  “Oh gosh!” said Jack. “Try getting her back, Minx!”

  “She was just going to tell us!” said Frances.

  “I’m afraid to use more of the powder,” said Minx, “because my mother might notice it.”

  All the children looked downcast.

  “But we can try again tomorrow night,” said Minx, “if you can come.”

  “Oh, sure we can!” said Bob, promptly.

  “That is—if we get home when we’re supposed to, tonight,” said Frances. “I think we’d better leave now.”

  “Maybe you’d better,” said Minx, looking anxiously at the bottle of Black Spell Brew, “because sometimes my mother comes home early.”

  At that, the children disappeared very suddenly through the door.

  Minx sighed and put back the pot on the shelf. Then she went to the mirror, and gazed into it earnestly, “I haven’t seen her today yet,” she said, aloud. “Maybe I’ll see her for sure tonight.”

  Suddenly she gave a little cry. There in the mirror—surely, oh surely it was a face! A beautiful face, pale as moonlight, with night-dark eyes, a flower-soft mouth. . . Minx spun around quickly—but nothing was there!

  She stood quite still in disappointment. Then she said, “Oh well, at least I’m sure I did see her tonight, and maybe tomorrow I’ll see her outside the mirror!”

  She felt very sleepy, and went over to her blanket. As she lay down, she thought, “Tomorrow I must remember to take my broomstick to school and let the children ride on it.”

  The next morning she awoke to find Madam Snickasnee already seated at the cluttered table, chewing greedily on a fried bat’s wing.

  “So you’re awake at last, are you, lazybones?” the witch greeted her. “I see you finally obeyed me and made the brew!”

  Minx seized a piece of bread and began to chew it hungrily.

  “Have some manners!” screamed the witch. “Eat like a lady!”

  Although there was no clock in the house, Minx thought it must be time to get ready for school. She recalled what her teacher had told her, and going to the sink, started to splash water on her face and arms, halfheartedly.

  Madam Snickasnee was so astonished that she stopped chewing for a few seconds.

  “What are you doing that for?” she demanded.

  “Oh, I just felt like it.” Minx tried to sound casual.

  “You’re up to something, my lass. Don’t tell me you’re not. You just stay right in this house today, and don’t you dare stir out of it!”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” said Minx, as innocent as an angel right out of heaven.

  “You look too innocent, my girl! Just remember what I said!”

  Madam Snickasnee tossed a well-polished bone to Scorcher, who pounced on it and started to crunch it noisily.

  Minx heard the school bell ring, and her heart sank in despair.

  “Oh, why doesn’t she hurry up and go to sleep!” she thought. But she knew that if her mother discovered how anxious she felt that she would stay awake on purpose all day.

  Humming a tuneless tune, Minx went to water the unhappy flowerpots.

  “That reminds me,” said Madam Snickasnee, darkly, fixing her little red eyes on the bottle of Black Spell Brew.

  Minx’s hand trembled a bit, but she continued to hum.

  “Oh, please, please go to sleep,” she thought, desperately.

  But presently the witch’s eyelids began to droop, and her head to sink down on her bony chest. At last with a thud her head dropped to the table, and the dishes began to clatter and clink with the violence of her snores.

  Thankfully, Minx grabbed her broom and rushed out of the house.

  “I’m late, I’m late,” she thought, fearfully. “I wonder what they’ll do to me!”

  She was running with furious speed
along the road, when suddenly she stopped short.

  “My goodness!” she said. “Here I am wasting my breath on running when I could be riding!”

  So she flung one slim leg over her broomstick, gave a little push with her foot, and up, up she went, into the clear October sky, riding swiftly toward the schoolhouse.

  Mr. Bunch, looking out of his office window, was certainly surprised to see his newest pupil arriving in such an unusual fashion.

  5

  MR. BEANPOT, DETECTIVE

  When Minx walked into the classroom, Miss Taylor said, “Minx, you’re late. And whatever have you brought a broom with you for?”

  “I’m going to let the children take rides on it during recess,” said Minx.

  Miss Taylor looked disconcerted. “Why—I’m sure that’s very nice of you, Minx, but—but I really don’t think Mr. Bunch would allow it.”

  Groans of disappointment rolled through the room.

  Miss Taylor clapped her hands. “Now children, stop that noise! Go to your seat, Minx, and be on time tomorrow. Let’s get on with our reading!”

  Minx placed her broom in the wardrobe, and obediently took her seat. While she was learning how to read such words as “cat,” “dog,” and “boy,” she forgot all about the broom.

  The other boys and girls, however, did not forget it. As soon as they were released for recess, they crowded around Minx, excitedly.

  “Oh Minx, please let me ride on the broom!”

  “Please Minx, let me!”

  Minx looked around to see if Mr. Bunch or Miss Taylor was in sight, and as all was clear, she handed the broom to one of the small boys.

  “Here. Just sit on it and give a push and it’ll go up. Then when you want to come down, just say ‘down please.’ It will go wherever you tell it to.”

  The small boy flung a chubby leg over, and up he went, looking scared. He came down very soon, rather pale and shaken, and handed the broom meekly to the next child. Up she spun, laughing and shrieking, and she stayed so long whizzing about above the trees, that they all began to shout for her to come down.

  The fun and excitement were becoming uproarious when suddenly Mr. Bunch appeared in their midst. All morning he had been unable to do a jot of work, so preoccupied was he with the thought of Minikin Snickasnee coming to school on a broomstick. Should he speak to her or shouldn’t he? As a matter of fact, he felt quite odd about the child; nervous, in truth. But just now when he had seen, out of his window, these goings on, he had made up his mind.