Little Witch by Anna Elizabeth Bennett

Author:Anna Elizabeth Bennett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Mr. Beanpot mopped his red face, nervously. “I guess I’d better come back when she’s awake,” he mumbled. “When will that be?”

“She sleeps all day long,” said Minx, pertly, “and then she goes out in the evening.”

Mr. Beanpot’s pale little eyes lighted up with a knowing look. “On her broomstick, I suppose!” he said.

Now it was Minx’s turn to flush and look upset. “None of your p’s and q’s!” she snapped.

“Never mind the sass, sis,” said Mr. Beanpot, menacingly. “As you pro’ly know, all the missing children turned up last night to gladden their parents’ grieving bosoms, though for the life of me I can’t see why Mr. and Mrs. Martin—” he gave himself a shake. “But be that as it may—they all turned up last night VE-RY MYS-TER-I-OUS-LY! And—” he shoved his nose in Minx’s face. “I think you know somepin about it!”

Minx drew back, haughtily. “Prove it!”

“All I know is what I heard from Billy Martin—” as he pronounced this name, a violent shudder passed over him; but he went on, courageously. “It’s VE-RY STRANGE that those missin’ kids found themselves in your house las’ night with no remembrance of what went before!”

“Wouldn’t you like to talk to my mother about it?” Minx invited, slyly.

Mr. Beanpot began to mop his face again, feverishly. “N-no, thank you! I’ll come back some other time!” He turned and marched off as fast as his dignity would permit.

In spite of her anxiety, Minx snickered. “Old scaredy-cat!” she muttered.

‘Oh dear!” she sighed. “Trouble, trouble, and more trouble! Oh dear! If there was only someone I could talk to about this!”

Suddenly she thought of Frances’s great-grandma, and a gay lightness seized her. “Maybe she can help!”

She felt her clothes to see if they were dry. The wind was brisk and the sun bright, but her clothes were not quite dry. She felt terribly impatient, however, and snatching them from the tree, slipped into them swiftly.

When she was at last on her way to Frances’s house, she shivered in the damp clothing, but she ran swiftly; so that when she finally arrived, she was warm and quite out of breath.

Frances opened the door. “Oh, Minx!” she cried, joyfully. “I’m so glad you could come over! Did you bring your broom?”

Minx opened her mouth in dismay. “Oh, Frances, I forgot! Besides, I’d better hide my broom for a while.”

“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Frances.

“Plenty!” said Minx, darkly. “I thought maybe your grandma could tell me what to do.”

“Tell you what to do!” repeated Frances, wonderingly. “You sure sound mysterious!”

“Well, I’ll explain; but do you think your grandma would mind me telling her my troubles?”

“Goodness no!” said Frances. “Grandma listens to everybody’s troubles by the yard! C’mon in!”

Minx followed her friend inside, skirting around a red wagon, a jack-in-the-box, and a deflated football.

Grandma was in the midst of making a cake. “It’s George’s birthday,” she explained, “and of course we have to have a cake!”

“Chocolate,” said George, sticking a fat finger in the batter.

“Take your finger out of that batter!” said Grandma, sharply.

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