Ogre Downstairs by Diana Wynne Jones

Author:Diana Wynne Jones [Jones, Diana Wynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Mysteries & Detective Stories, family, Fantasy & Magic, General, Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9780688091958
Google: 9CZFGuo5EGkC
Amazon: 0688091954
Goodreads: 34287
Publisher: Greenwillow
Published: 1974-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

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Gwinny, meanwhile, had a queer experience at her school. She was nature monitor, and it was her job to come in before afternoon school and get things ready. It was one of those fine, warm days that happen in late autumn, and, since it was Friday, Gwinny was looking forward to the weekend. The Ogre was going to be away all Saturday and Sunday at a conference and things would be fun for once. Gwinny sang to herself as she gave out pencils and nature folders.

As she leaned forward over the big table in the center of the classroom to push the folders across it, something climbed out of her pocket and landed with a soft clump on the table. Gwinny craned her head round. She stared, frozen and bent over. It was the toffee-bar she had borrowed from Johnny, complete with its white and yellow wrapper. And it was crawling across the table in a slow, deliberate way, as if it knew where it was going.

“No, stop! Come back!” Gwinny said to it. She felt all guilty and

responsible. The toffee-bar was alive, and she had no doubt that it was the bottle Douglas spilled that had done it. She put down the folders, a little nervously. She was not exactly frightened. The toffee-bar was only four inches long and flat as a ruler. But, even so, if it was alive, it was not precisely a toffee-bar any longer.

The toffee-bar crawled steadily on until it came to a patch of sunlight in the middle of the table. There, it stopped and stretched and coiled itself this way and that with evident enjoyment.

“Oh, do come back!” Gwinny said to it.

But the toffee-bar took no notice. It stretched several times more, rather harder. Then, quite suddenly, the white and yellow paper split in two along the top of it. The toffee inside wriggled a little, and then it crawled out from the paper, a smooth yellow-brown strip.

“I’ll have to catch you,” Gwinny said firmly. She reached out, not quite so firmly, and tried to take hold of the toffee-bar. It must have seen her hand coming. Its limber brown body jackknifed and leaped away from her fingers. In a flash, it had jumped off the table, wriggled over the floor, and gone to earth in a shelf of library books.

Gwinny had to leave it there, because the rest of the class was coming in. She hurriedly put the cast-off wrapper in her pocket and gave out the rest of the folders. For the rest of the afternoon she was in agony. The toffee-bar just would not stay quiet. Gwinny could hear it slithering and clumping behind the books in the bookshelf, and so could the rest of the class.

“Has somebody brought a mouse in here?” asked Mrs. Clayton.

Nobody answered, but, to judge from the looks and giggles, everybody

thought somebody had. Gwinny felt more and more guilty and ashamed.

When everyone went out for P.E. last period, Gwinny borrowed Linda

Davey’s handkerchief, because her own was only a tissue, and stayed behind.

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