Mary Norton - Bed-Knob and Broomstick

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.