Mary Norton - Bed-Knob and Broomstick

"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 "They're out of date now.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.

Carey and Charles looked at him as though they had never seen him before.

"Well?" said Miss Price rather sharply.

Charles found his voice. "He's sort of young," he pointed out, "for so much responsibility." But Miss Price was firm. "The younger the better, as I know to my cost. Now run along, children." She turned away, but almost immediately she turned back again, lowering her voice. "Oh, by the way, I meant to tell you something else. You know I said the spell was better than I hoped. Well, if you twist it one way, the bed will take you where you want, in the present. Twist it the other way and the bed will take you back into the past." "Oh, Miss Price!" exclaimed Carey.

"What about the future?" asked Charles.

Miss Price looked at him as the bus conductor looks when you ask for a ticket to a place off the bus route. Charles blushed and churned up the gravel path with the toe of his shoe.

"Now, remember what I said," went on Miss Price. "Have a good time, keep to the rules, and allow for the bed." She turned to the milkman, who had been waiting patiently by the step. "Half a pint, please, Mr. Bisselthwaite, and my butter." THE PRELIMINARY CANTER It was hard to get through the rest of the day, but evening came at last; by the time it was Paul's bedtime, anticipation had made them tired and excitement had grown stale.

"Look here, Paul," said Carey suddenly, as Paul was brushing his teeth. "You wouldn't go and do it by yourself. You'll lie still till Charles and I come to bed, won't you?" Paul looked at her over the slowly revolving brush.

"If you went off on that bed by yourself," continued Carey, "and it went wrong, no one could save you. You might get stuck in the past or anything." Paul spat into the hole in the basin. He watched the hole, and then, carefully, he spat again. He felt aggrieved; from the moment he had screwed on the bed-knob, after getting back from Miss Price's, Carey and Charles had not let him out of their sight for an instant. It was His bed after all, and, what was more, his bed-knob. They might have let him have a trial run, just to the bottom of the garden, say, and back. He hadn't wanted to go far, but he had wanted to know if it really worked.

"You see, Paul," went on Carey, "suppose Elizabeth came upstairs with your milk, and the bed was gone. What then?

We've got to be very careful. It may seem deceitful, but we did promise Miss Price. You can't go tearing about on the bed in broad daylight, and things like that." Paul rinsed his mouth and swallowed the water, as was his custom.

"Do you see, Paul? We've got to wait until they're all in bed. Come here, and I'll comb your hair while it's wet." They followed him into his bedroom. They sat on the bed. They all looked at the bed-knob, just above Paul's right ear; it looked just like the other three.

"I bet it doesn't-work," said Charles. "I bet you anything." "Shush," said Carey, as Elizabeth came in with their milk on a tray.

"Don't spill on the sheet, now," she said, panting, "and bring the tray down, Miss Carey, please; it's my evening out." "Your evening out?" repeated Carey. She began to smile.

"Nothing funny in that, I hope," said Elizabeth tartly. "I've earned it. And no tricks, now; your aunt's not herself. She's gone to bed." "Gone to bed?" echoed Carey again. She caught back the rest of her smile just in time. Elizabeth looked at her curiously.

"No tricks, now," she repeated. "There's something funny about you children. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouths, but I'm not so sure." They heard her sigh on the landing. They heard her turn the corner. Then they kicked off their slippers and danced. Noiselessly, tensely, breathlessly, they gyrated and whirled and leapt; then, panting, they fell onto Paul's bed.

"Where shall we go?" whispered Carey, her eyes shining.

"Let's try a South Sea island," said Charles.

Paul bit deeply into his bread. His cheeks bulged and his jaws moved slowly. He was the calmest of the three.

"The Rocky Mountains," suggested Carey.

"The South Pole," said Charles.

"The Pyramids." "Tibet." "The moon." "Where would you like to go, Paul?" asked Carey suddenly. Happiness had made her unselfish.

Paul swallowed his mouthful of bread and butter. "I'd like to go to the Natural History Museum." "Oh, Paul," said Carey.

"Not that kind of place. You can go there any time." "I'd like to see the Big Flea in the Natural History Museum," said Paul. He remembered how Carey and Charles had gone with an uncle, without him, when he, Paul, .had been in bed with a cold.

"It was only a model. Think of another place, Paul. You can have first turn, as it's your bed. But somewhere nice." "I'd like to go to London," said Paul.

"But you can go to London almost any time," Charles reminded him.

"I'd like to go to London to see my mother." "Don't say 'my mother.' She's our mother, too." "I'd like to see her," repeated Paul simply.