_The Witch_
SUDDENLY the dragon's eyes lit up as if they were lamps. They could see a
little way ahead, but all around it was so dark that you could almost feel
it. George thought--he was always having funny thoughts now--that if he
put his hand out some of the black darkness would rub off on it.
After a time they seemed to be going down-hill. Far away gleamed a light
which grew brighter and brighter every moment. At last George could see
that they were close to the mouth of a large cave, in front of which sat
a perfectly enormous black cat with green eyes shining like lights on a
railway signal.
Its tail was standing straight up on end, black and bushy; never had
George seen such a tail before. The dragon went on past the cat into the
cave, round corners, on and on until at last he stopped with a jerk, and
George fell off his back.
"Here we are," said the dragon, "just in time. I thought at first we were
late, and then, my word!--we should have caught it! Come on!" and he led
the way into the witch's kitchen.
All that George could see at first was a huge open fireplace upon which
great logs of wood were crackling. Over the fire hung a big round kettle
from which at times came weird gurgling sounds. The queerest shadows of
goblins and imps danced about as if they were really alive. Altogether it
was a most uncomfortable place to be in.
Curled up on the hearth was another cat; a yellow animal with red eyes
which stared and stared at them as if it wondered who on earth they could
be.
"So here you are at last!" said a voice from somewhere, so suddenly that
it made George jump.
He looked round on every side, but for a long time could see nothing. At
last, in the dim light, he could just make out what looked like the figure
of an old, old woman with a very crooked back and a queer, wrinkled face.
She was sitting in a dark corner in a high-backed chair, looking into the
fire as if she were reading all kinds of stories in it.
"Come here, George," she said. "Tell me all about your fortune."
It was really rather annoying that everybody seemed to know all about
George and what he was going to do. However, it couldn't be helped, so
he walked up to the witch, feeling just a little bit afraid, and looked
straight into her eyes.
Her face was covered with hundreds of little wrinkles, which crossed and
recrossed one another almost without end. She looked as if she had lived
for hundreds and hundreds of years, and was, oh, so tired of everything!
Her eyes were very bright, and shone with a pale light which made George
feel a little bit giddy at first, though he couldn't think why.
Her voice was quite gentle, rather sad, and sounded as if it came from
far, far, away. Perhaps it had grown tired too.
"So you are following your fortune?" said the witch. "Dear me! Do you
know who I am?"
"Please, ma'am," replied George, "you're a witch."
"And a very wicked old woman too, who turns little boys into frogs and
toads, and flies through the air on a broomstick. Isn't that what you've
learned about me?" asked the witch, with a queer smile. Where had George
seen that smile before?
He blushed rosy red, for he certainly had always heard that witches were
wicked women. Had not Father once called some old woman who was always
telling disagreeable stories about other people behind their backs a
wicked witch? George had asked this same old woman if she had brought her
broomstick with her. She had been quite cross, and called him "a rude
little boy."
"If you please, ma'am," he said, "I expect there are good witches as well
as bad witches."
"Ah, well! Let us hope I'm a good witch, one who will help you to find
your fortune, and Alexander's too"; and the witch stretched out her thin
old hands to the fire to warm them.
Wonders will never cease! George suddenly caught sight of Alexander lying
down side by side with the yellow cat--and when he was at home not a
single cat was allowed to put even one foot inside the garden!
"He's quite an old friend," said the witch. "My dear Golden Girl and he
are almost like brother and sister."
Alexander licked the end of the cat's nose, and she patted him gently with
her paw and purred.
"Sit down and tell me all about it," continued the witch, pushing a
three-legged stool toward George. He perched himself on it with his legs
swinging in the air, and commenced to talk--at least, he always said
afterward that he did--but what with the witch nodding, the cat purring,
and the kettle boiling it is more than likely that he fell asleep.
Suddenly the kettle began to boil furiously, and clouds of steam poured
out of its spout.
"Nearly ready! Nearly ready!" said the witch, and counted slowly up to
ten. Then: "Take off the lid, Alexander!" she cried.
Alexander jumped up and lifted off the kettle-lid with his tail as if he
had been used to doing it all his life.
In a moment the kitchen was full of steam, which wreathed and curled
itself into the queerest shapes and figures. George wondered what was
going to happen next, but sat still and said nothing.
The witch rose from her chair and hobbled up to the kettle, helping
herself along with a long-handled stick. She leaned over the kettle,
looking down into it for a moment or two, then, waving her stick,
commenced to sing in a high, shrill voice. It sounded at first as if she
were singing the multiplication table. George remembered bits of it, and
this is what he said she sang:
"Twice times one is two,
Bubble, bubble brew!
Water boil and fire burn,
Turn around and turn and turn.
Up and down, and down and up,
Fill the pot and fill the cup.
Blood of toad and juice of nettle
Stew and stew within the kettle.
Stir about with witch's stick.
Quick!... Quick!
"Oh, ho!... Oh, ho!
Twice times four is eight,
Now it's getting late.
Add a little puppy's tail
And a dragon's shining scale.
From the boy who's sitting there
Cut a lock of curly hair!
Ah, ha!... Ah, ha!"
"Ah, ha! Ah, ha!" sang Golden Girl and Alexander together, and the kettle
bubbled and boiled: "Oh, ho! Oh, ho!"
This went on for quite a long time, and George wondered if the witch were
going to cut off a lock of his hair. How nasty a stew with hair in it
would taste. _Ugh!_
"It's time to start now. Are we all ready? Dragon! Where's that lazy
dragon?" cried the witch.
"Here I am!" replied the dragon, appearing from somewhere or other: "I'm
quite ready. Will you ride on your catoplane?"
George wondered whatever a catoplane might be, but was too polite to ask.
The witch quickly put on a long cloak and waved her stick, and the wall of
the kitchen flew open.
"Come along; don't keep me waiting!" she said to George, and he jumped off
his stool and followed her. He could see nothing, but felt that they were
in the open air again.
"Here's my broomstick!" he heard the witch say, with a laugh; he felt
himself lifted on to something, and then--_whirrrr! whizzz!_--off they
went.
"Oh, are we in an aeroplane, please?" asked George, feeling tremendously
excited.
"Aeroplane, indeed!" sniffed the witch. "I should like to see the
aeroplane that could fly as fast as this. Look and see for yourself,
George!"
George looked in front of him. He certainly seemed to be seated on
something like a broomstick, and right in front of him sat the yellow cat,
flashing its red eyes into the darkness like searchlights. Alexander was
seated quite close to her, looking as pleased as Punch.
George looked behind him and heard the noise of an engine, _throb, throb_,
and saw a black something turning, turning without stopping.
"I suppose that's the motor," he said.
"Guess again, George!" laughed the witch.
George looked and looked. "No, I can't guess," he confessed.
"Well--wait and see!" And the witch smiled. Her smile was just like--no,
it wasn't.... Oh, it was very puzzling!
[Illustration]