by Edward Eager
"It says you're fierce-tempered," said Barnaby.
"Well, I am," said Fredericka.
There was a silence. Everybody stopped walking and just stood there.
"What's happening?" said Abbie. "Do you suppose we're magic, suddenly?"
"Either we are," said John, "or that book is."
"Maybe it isn't a book at all," said Fredericka in eerie tones.
"I don't like it," said Abbie. "It's creepy. Let's take it back and tell the library we don't want it."
"Or bury it with a stake through its heart," said Barnaby.
But nobody laughed.
"Do you suppose," said Susan, "we're not really real at all but just characters in this book somebody wrote?"
This was a sobering thought.
"I don't want to be not real," said Fredericka, all of a sudden not seeming fierce-tempered at all but just little and scared.
There was another silence. Everybody looked at Barnaby. Barnaby thought a minute. Then he shook his head.
"No," he said, "it can't be that. Because when the book tells about me and Abbie and Fredericka, it says we've just moved here. But I remember being me long before that."
"Maybe that part of you was in another book," said Susan. She didn't mean to say it, but it just slipped out.
Barnaby was undaunted. "All right," he said. "Suppose we are book characters? It never bothered us before, before we thought about it. It doesn't have to bother us now. Characters have all kinds of interesting things happen to them. And here's a whole bookful of adventures and we're just at the beginning!
"What happens next?" said Fredericka, standing on tiptoe and trying to see over Barnaby's shoulder (only she was too little to reach).
"What happens at the end!?" said Abbie. "That's what rm worrying about!"
"How far did you get?" said Susan. "Did the Susan in the book find an old book in the library, too, and start reading out loud from it?"
"That's where I stopped," said Barnaby. "'Susan opened the worn red cover and began to read,' it says."
"Just think," John said dreamily. "If we find a book about people like us and the people in the book find a book about people like them, and the people in that book find a book about people like..."
"Don't!" cried Susan. "It's like those awful arithmetic problems that go on and on." She turned back to Barnaby. "Then what does the book say. Is it taking down everything we're saying now, like a stenographer?"
"No," said Barnaby. "It doesn't say anything then. The page ends there."
"Turn over," said Fredericka.
"Look in the back," said Abbie.
Barnaby tried. "I can't," he told them. "It's stuck or something. The whole rest of the book's shut solid tight."
"I suppose that's as much as they want us to know," said Abbie darkly. "And now I suppose the awful thing happens."
"What awful thing?" said Fredericka.
"I don't know. Some awful thing. It stands to reason."
"Not necessarily," said Barnaby. And then even he broke off and caught his breath and looked around warily.
But what happened was nothing at all. Except that the sun went on shining and the sky went on being blue and some cars drove by and an oriole sang and a woman came out of a house and began beating a carpet.
After a few minutes of this usualness everyone found himself breathing more regularly again. The five children found themselves walking along again, too, and waiting for Barnaby to begin having more ideas. And pretty soon he did.
"Of course," he said. "I'm beginning to see it all. Don't you remember? We said we wanted a special magic book of our own."
"About five children just like us," said Abbie. "You said that part." And she pointed an accusing finger at Fredericka.
"No matter who said what," said Barnaby, "it looks as if we got it, somehow. But something had to make the wish come true. And what else but the book itself could have done that?" He turned to Susan. "Where'd you find it in the first place?"
"On the bottom shelf of the fairy-tale section," she said, remembering.
Barnaby nodded excitedly. "It all adds up. Think of it sitting there all those years, with the magic from all those other books dripping down onto it! It's prob'ly soaked with magic powers by now. It's prob'ly been sitting there waiting for somebody to come along and make a wish in front of it. And we came and wanted a magic story; so that's what it turned into. Prob'ly if we'd wanted pirates, it'd have turned into a book about a pirate ship with us on board. But we asked for magic; so that's what we got."
"What kind of wish is that?" said Fredericka. "What good is a book about us? We know about us."
"We don't know what's coming next," said Barnaby. "All we've had is the beginning. What else did we wish for? Think back."
"I said the people in the book would be walking home from somewhere and the magic would start suddenly before they knew it," said Susan.
"Well?" said Barnaby. "That part came true. And then / said they'd have to tame the magic and learn its rules and thwart it and make the most of it. So I guess it's up to us to do that from now on."
Barnaby was certainly having ideas today. In fact, he was having them so fast the others could hardly keep up with him. But they were exciting ideas, all the same.
"You mean," said Susan, "there's a whole book still going to happen to us?"
"That's what I think," said Barnaby.
"But if it's all there in the book," said John, "why not use the magic and wish the book open? So we can read the next chapter and know what to expect?"
"I don't think it works like that," said Barnaby. "I think that'd be against the rules. Anyway, maybe there isn't any next chapter, yet. I think if we could pry open the rest of the pages, they'd prob'ly be blank. I think it's prob'ly up to us to make more wishes and have them come true, so as to fill the pages up!"
"Sort of make up the book as we go along?" said Abbie.
"You mean it's ours to use?" said Susan. "Like a wishing ring, sort of?"
"Only mixed up with those things they have in offices," said Fredericka. "Those things you talk into."
"Dictaphones," said John.
"Whatever they're called," said Fredericka.
"That's the idea," said Barnaby. "More or less."
Everyone thought about this.
"That book," said John, "had better be handled with care from now on."
"Don't anybody dare even think about wishing," said Susan, "till we've talked it out and decided what kind of adventure we want."
"You ought to do the deciding," said Barnaby. "You're the one who found the book in the first place."
That was typical of Barnaby. He might be grabby, but he was fair. Susan's hand went out toward the book. Then she pulled it back and shook her head. Barnaby was the one with ideas. Let him go on having them.
"No, you go first. You'll do it better."
"No, you ought to be the one."
"No, honestly, I'd rather."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Fredericka. "If everybody else is too polite around here, let me!" And she laid hold of the book.
"Stop her, somebody!" cried Abbie. But it was too late. Fredericka was already talking, gabbling her words without stopping to breathe for fear someone would interrupt her, the way youngest children in families soon learn to do.
"I wish we'd have a magic adventure, with wizards and witches and magic things in it, and I wish it'd start right now, this minute, so we'll know for certain it's really our wish coming true and not just a coincidence!"
"That's done it," said Barnaby, when Fredericka finally stopped just before utter breath failed.
But it didn't seem to have. Nothing happened.
"Maybe the book didn't hear her," said Abbie.
"Maybe I'm supposed to kiss it or something," said Fredericka.
"Maybe we're supposed to keep on walking," said Barnaby. "The minute isn't up yet."
They kept on walking. Round a bend in the road they came on a house they had
always specially noticed in the past. It was a perfectly ordinary-looking house in a perfectly ordinary-looking garden, but it had an interesting sign by the driveway.
"Slow," warned the sign. "Cats, et cetera."
In the past the five children had often stopped and waited by the driveway, in hope that something other than a cat would come out. But up till this second nothing had.
At this second (which happened to be the fifty-ninth since Fredericka had made her wish), something did.
What came out was a dragon.
2. Using It
The dragon was bright red all over, except for its eyes, which were green. It was flying low over the driveway, puffing purple smoke as it came.
Abbie stopped short and clutched the others. But Fredericka pressed forward curiously. And the dragon seemed just as curious as Fredericka. It hovered over her in hawklike circles, peering down. For a moment their eyes met. Then it scooped her up in its scaly grasp and flew away with her, over the trees.
"Stop!" cried John, starting to run in the direction it had taken.
"Do something!" cried Abbie, pulling at Barnaby. "Use the book! Wish!" She turned to Susan.
"Wait," said Barnaby. He was as pale as the others, but he was having ideas, all the same. "You'll never find it that way," he called to John. "It's prob'ly over some other county by now."
John stopped running, for indeed the dragon (and Fredericka) had disappeared in the far distance, and the last puff of purple smoke was merging into the clouds.
"And let's not make any more wishes without stopping to think," Barnaby went on. "Fredericka did that, and look what happened! But she asked for a magic adventure and this is it. I think we ought to start by finding out whose dragon it is."
"Look!" said Susan, pointing up the driveway.
A ground-floor window of the house was open, and a face was staring out at the four children. The face wore a surprised expression.
Abbie, usually so timid, ran right across the lawn and up to the face, and the others followed.
"Was that your dragon?" she demanded sternly.
"Oh dear," said the face. "Is that what it was? I was afraid that was what it was!"
"Well, you ought to be more careful!" Abbie scolded. "You let it get away, and now it's stolen my little sister!"
"Oh dear," said the face again. "I am sorry."
Now that they were near, the four children could see that the face belonged to a little round gentleman with a bald head. He wore an old-fashioned long coat, a fancy vest, and a flowing tie. In his hand was a tall silk hat, which he was regarding in a distracted manner.
"I don't know what can have gone wrong," he went on. "Such a thing never happened before. I was practicing my tricks the way I always do after breakfast, and I reached into my hat to pull out a rabbit, and something came out, only it was something else!"
"It certainly was!" said John.
"I could tell it wasn't a rabbit," said the round gentleman, "from the feel. But I didn't dare to look. Then it went whoosh, and it was gone."
Barnaby turned to the others. "You can see what prob'ly happened. Fredericka prob'ly made her wish at that exact minute, and that prob'ly did it."
The round gentleman did not appear to have heard this. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced any sister of yours," he went on. "Still, it shows I haven't lost my knack, doesn't it?"
Barnaby looked at him. And he remembered the rest of Fredericka's wish. "You must be a wizard," he said.
The round gentleman looked pleased. "How did you guess? It is true that is my profession, though 'magician' is the proper term. In vaudeville they called me The Great Oswaldo."
"What's Vaudeville?" whispered Abbie to Barnaby.
"It's a kind of show they used to have, back before television," he whispered back.
"Oh," said Abbie. She had thought Vaudeville might be a magic kingdom, rather like Oz or Narnia. Still, at a time like this, even a stage wizard was probably better than no wizard at all. And the round gentleman appeared kind. So she said, "You'll help us, won't you? You'll find my sister for us?"
The round gentleman looked uncertain. "Well, I'll try," he said. "Won't you come in?" And he left the window.
"Shall we?" said Susan.
"Proceed as the door opens," said Barnaby.
But when the round gentleman opened the door of the house, the four children hesitated. The hall inside looked dark and spooky, and there were sounds, a furry flumping and a padding and a purring and a murmur of mews.
"Better not. He's got more wild beasts!" warned John.
"Merely a few household pets," said the round gentleman. "When I retired, I thought a cat would be company, but they mounted up." And he switched on the hall light.
The four children regarded the scene inside with interest. Cats wreathed about the round gentleman's feet, and the bottoms of his trousers were patterned with their paw prints. And the children knew now what the "et cetera" on the sign had stood for. The "et cetera" was kittens. They sat on the stair and stared through the banisters and played on the plate rail.
"Aw!" said Abbie, running to pick up the smallest and fluffiest kitten and hold it against her. And the other three followed her into the hall. As they did so, a woman appeared from the back of the house.
"Who are all these?" she said. "Feet on my good rugs. As if them cats weren't enough!"
"It's all right, Mrs. Funkhouser," said the round gentleman. "These visitors are for me. Mrs. Funkhouser is my landlady," he went on, when the woman had muttered herself away. "A good woman, but not much artistic temperament. And now if you'll step this way?"
He went through a door at the end of the hall, and the four children followed. When they saw the room beyond the door, Abbie's eyes grew wide with wonder, and John said, "Whew!"
The room looked very much as yours does when you have played with your Mysto-Magic set and forgotten to pick it up and then the cat has got in. Only in this case it was more like twenty magic sets and thirty cats. Crystal balls and bottles of colored liquid and jars of colored powder and phials and retorts and spirit lamps were on every table and shelf. But most of the bottles were tipped over and most of the powder was spilled. Cats and kittens moved among the remains.
"I'm afraid we're a little untidy this morning," said the round gentleman. "I don't know what Mrs. Funkhouser would say."
The four children thought they knew what she would say all too well.
"However," the gentleman went on, looking at the litter of paraphernalia and fluttering his hands in rather a helpless way, "we'll see what we can do. I'm afraid I may be a bit rusty. It's years now since my farewell appearance. And I never found a lost girl, even in the old days. I'm not quite certain how it's done. I used to saw a lady in half at one time, but it's not quite the same thing."
"It certainly isn't!" said Susan indignantly.
"I might try the hat trick again and see what comes out this time," suggested the round gentleman.
But when he put his hand in the hat, what came out wasn't Fredericka or even a white rabbit. What came out was the smallest kitten, who had left Abbie's shoulder and crawled into the hat when no one was looking.
"Sorry," said the gentleman. "I suppose it would be more to the point to get the dragon back into the hat, wouldn't it? Or transform him to some more harmless form. Where's my box of tricks?" He found a card index and riffled through it. "Transformations," he muttered. "There's only one listed here, but as I remember, it was always colorful."
He found a blue handkerchief in the litter on the nearest table and drew it through a wooden ring.
The handkerchief was transformed from blue to red, but Fredericka did not return. And if the dragon (wherever it was by now) was altered in any way, it did not put in an appearance to make the fact known.
"You're not trying," said Abbie accusingly. She was beginning to suspect that the round gentleman might be a good wizard without being very good at it.
"Yes, I am," said the round gent
leman. "The third time's always the one that works." His eyes roamed the room, rather desperately Susan thought. "There's this," he said, picking up a bottle of purple liquid, seemingly at random.
"What does it do?" said John.
"It's supposed to make a red flare," said the round gentleman, "but the way things have been going this morning, anything might happen!" And he emptied the bottle into a bowl.
As he did so, Susan had an idea.
She wasn't sure yet just how the magic of the book worked. It had already proved it could get them into adventures, but after that, did it just sit back and watch or would it help?
Who could say? Still, there was no harm in trying. And she felt sorry for the round gentleman and wanted to help him (to say nothing of Fredericka). So she held the book firmly in both hands and wished with all her might that this time the magic would prove successful.
The round gentleman struck a match and lit the fluid in the bowl. It made a red flare, all right. But other things happened, too. There was a whooshing noise, followed by a whirring one.
"It wasn't supposed to do that," said the round gentleman. "Or that, either," he added, as there was a sudden jolt, and everybody's stomach felt the way yours does when you're in an elevator and it starts going up too fast.
"We're moving," said Barnaby. "Flying, I think."
John ran to the window. "That's right, we're right off the ground. We're heading the same way the dragon did, too!"
Two treetops passed by the window, going from left to right, just to prove it.
"Oh dear," said the round gentleman, turning pale. "What will Mrs. Funkhouser say? She always claims she runs a well-run house, but I don't think she'd want it to fly!"
What Mrs. Funkhouser would say was soon made clear.
"Mr. Oswaldo," she said, appearing sternly in the doorway, "you put this house down right this minute!"
The round gentleman shook his head. "I would if I could," he said, "but I can't. I don't know how."
"This," said Mrs. Funkhouser, "is the last straw. Mama always said never rent to theatricals or they'd raise the roof. If we ever get back to lower Weed Street, your room'll be wanted!"