by Ruth Chew
Also by Ruth Chew
MAGIC IN THE PARK
NO SUCH THING AS A WITCH
THE TROUBLE WITH MAGIC
WHAT THE WITCH LEFT
THE WOULD-BE WITCH
THREE WISHING TALES
(AN EBOOK OMNIBUS):
THE MAGIC COIN
THE MAGIC CAVE
THE WISHING TREE
THREE WITCH TALES
(AN EBOOK OMNIBUS):
THE WITCH’S BUTTONS
WITCH’S CAT
THE WITCH’S GARDEN
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1984 by Ruth Chew
Jacket art copyright © 2014 by David Hohn
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.
Originally published in the United States by Scholastic, Inc., New York, in 1984.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone Book and the colophon are trademarks of Random House LLC.
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Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Chew, Ruth, author, illustrator.
The witch at the window / by Ruth Chew; with illustrations by the author. — First Random House edition.
p. cm.
“A Stepping Stone book.”
Summary: When Nick and Marjorie find a large wooden spoon in the park, they find themselves in an adventure involving a talking starling, a witch, a hollow tree, and a book of magic spells.
ISBN 978-0-449-81563-2 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-449-81566-3 (tr. pbk.) —
ISBN 978-0-449-81565-6 (ebook)
1. Magic—Juvenile fiction. 2. Witches—Juvenile fiction. 3. Brothers and sisters—Juvenile fiction. [1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Witches—Fiction.
3. Brothers and sisters—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.C429Whrk 2014 813.54—dc23 2013035054
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
For my niece,
Pauline Patty Chew
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Excerpt from The Would-Be Witch
“Hey, Marge, look at this!” Nick bent down to pick up something that had fallen out of a fat old beech tree.
Marjorie saw that her brother was holding a long-handled wooden spoon. She stared up into the branches overhead. “Hello!” she called. “Is anybody up there?”
There was no answer.
Nick handed Marjorie the spoon. “Maybe somebody left it in the tree.”
Marjorie felt the smooth wood. “The wind must have blown it down.”
“It’s such a big spoon,” Nick said. “We could dig with it at the beach.”
“Mother doesn’t like us to take things that don’t belong to us,” Marjorie reminded him.
“But if we leave the spoon here in the park,” Nick said, “somebody else will pick it up. Then the person who owns it will never get it back.”
Marjorie thought for a minute. “We can keep it safe in case we find out who lost it.” She tucked the big spoon under her arm.
“I’m getting hungry,” Nick said.
Marjorie looked at the blue sky. “I wonder what time it is.”
“We’d better not be late for supper again.” Nick began to walk along the narrow path that went through the woods on Lookout Mountain.
The two children had spent the afternoon in Prospect Park. Now they went around the big hill until they came to the road that went through the park. Marjorie took a look at the traffic. “It must be rush hour.”
While they waited for the light to turn green, Nick and Marjorie heard a clear, high whistle.
Nick looked around. “What was that, Marge?”
“It’s that bird, there. Come on. The light’s changing.” Marjorie walked quickly across the road.
Nick ran after her. “Marge,” he said, “the bird followed us.” He pointed to the lowest branch of a chestnut tree.
Marjorie laughed. “What makes you think it’s the same bird, Nick?”
“It looks exactly like the one that was whistling at us on the other side of the road,” Nick said.
“That’s a starling,” Marjorie told him. “There are lots of them in Brooklyn. And they all look alike.”
The bird was about as big as a robin. It was fat and had a short tail. In the sunlight its black feathers gleamed with purple and green lights.
“It’s beautiful!” Nick said.
Marjorie nodded. “I never really looked hard at a starling before.” She took a step toward the bird.
The starling flapped up into the branches of the chestnut tree.
“You scared it, Marge,” Nick said.
“I only wanted to get a better look,” Marjorie told him.
“Well, if all starlings look alike, you’ll have another chance.” Nick started running toward the park gate.
Marjorie raced after him.
Marjorie and Nick lived four long blocks from the park. They ran along Ocean Parkway and turned the corner onto Church Avenue. By the time they reached East Fifth Street both of them were out of breath.
They stopped running and walked halfway down the block.
Nick looked up into the big sycamore tree in front of their house. He grabbed his sister’s arm. “Marge, there’s that spooky bird! It is following us.”
“Don’t be silly, Nick. I told you there are lots of starlings in Brooklyn.” Marjorie climbed the front stoop of the old stone house. Nick came up after her. Marjorie’s house key was on a string around her neck. She unlocked the front door.
Their father came into the hall. He hugged both Marjorie and Nick at the same time. “You just made it, kids,” Mr. Gordon said. “Any minute now I would have had to set the table. Isn’t that your job, Nick?”
Marjorie ran upstairs and hid the big wooden spoon in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Then she washed her hands and went down to the kitchen to help her mother.
At suppertime Marjorie said, “We saw a starling in the park. I never knew they were such pretty birds.”
Mrs. Gordon put a carrot stick on Nick’s plate. “In some countries starlings are kept in cages.”
“That’s awful,” Marjorie said. “Birds should be flying around. Why would anybody put one in a cage?”
“Maybe because starlings can be taught to talk,” her mother said.
“Like parrots?” Nick asked.
“Don’t get any ideas, Nick,” Mrs. Gordon said. “I don’t like birds in cages any more than Marjorie does.”
“Maybe we wouldn’t have to keep it in a cage,” Nick said. “It could just fly from room to room.”
Mrs. Gordon put down her fork. “I’m sorry, Nick. I don’t want you bringing any birds into the house. They belong outdoors.”
After supper, everybody went into the living room. “King Kong is on television tonight,” Nick said.
His mother laughed. “You don’t want to see that old movie.”
“Yes, we do,” Nick said.
“It will give you nightmares,” Mrs. Gordon said.
“Dad can watch it with us.” Nick turned on the television. “He can turn it off if we get scared.”
Mrs. Gordon picked up her library book. “I’m warning you. If either of you children wakes up screaming tonight, you’ll both go without television for the rest of the week.”
Marjorie had never liked scary movies, but she didn’t want Nick to know it. He was younger than she was. She sat down on the sofa beside her father.
The movie wasn’t nearly as scary as Marjorie had thought it would be. Maybe that was because her friends had told her how it ended.
When the movie was over, Mrs. Gordon closed her book. “Bedtime, Nick.”
Nick went upstairs to take a shower and brush his teeth. Then it was Marjorie’s turn.
“Marge, wake up!”
Marjorie opened her eyes. In the darkness she saw Nick standing beside her bed. “What’s the matter?”
“Somebody’s outside my window, trying to get in,” Nick said.
Marjorie sat up in bed. “Sh-sh! Don’t let Mother hear you.”
King Kong must have been too scary for Nick after all, Marjorie thought. And if Mrs. Gordon knew Nick had a nightmare, Marjorie wouldn’t be allowed to watch her favorite program on Saturday. “I’ll go to your room and see what’s going on,” she told her brother.
Marjorie slipped out of bed and started down the hall. Nick tiptoed after her. His room was at the very end of the hall. As Marjorie came closer to it, she heard a creaky noise.
She reached the doorway. The noise was coming from the window. Marjorie’s heart started to pound. A little cold shiver crawled up her back.
She took a deep breath. Then she walked over to the window. Nick came right behind.
Marjorie wasn’t tall enough to see over the air conditioner that was in the window. She looked around the shadowy room. “Where’s your chair?” she whispered.
Nick went to get his desk chair. Marjorie stepped onto it and lifted one slat of the venetian blind.
Nick climbed up beside her. The two children peeked through the crack in the blind.
They saw two feet in shoes with big buckles on them. The feet were standing on the air conditioner outside. Two thin, bony hands were trying to push up the window Mr. Gordon had taped shut.
Marjorie grabbed the venetian blind cord. She pulled the blind all the way up to the top of the tall window. Now Nick and Marjorie could see that there was a woman on the air conditioner. She was wearing a long dress and a pointed hat with a wide brim.
“Marge, it’s a witch!” Nick gasped.
The woman was so surprised when the blind was pulled up that she nearly lost her balance. She grabbed hold of the window to steady herself. Then she pressed her long nose against the glass and tried to look into the room.
Marjorie and Nick jumped off the chair and ran. At the door of the room Marjorie turned to look back at the window.
“Nick, she’s gone!” Marjorie said.
The sky outside was slowly turning gray. And there was no sign of the witch at the window.
“Hey, Marge, it’s getting to be morning!” Nick walked back to the window. He climbed on the chair so he could see over the air conditioner. There was a faint pink glow over the roofs of the stores on Church Avenue now.
Marjorie came over and got up on the chair beside her brother. She looked down into the little backyard. A starling was splashing in the birdbath.
The sun began to rise over the apartment buildings in the distance.
“I wonder where the witch went,” Marjorie said.
“Do you think we ought to tell Mom and Dad about her?” Nick asked.
Marjorie shook her head. “They’d think we were making it up. You know Daddy says witches aren’t real.”
“Mom might think the witch was a nightmare,” Nick said. “I guess we’d better not say anything about her.”
Marjorie and Nick stood at the window and watched the sunrise. They looked in all the backyards to see if the witch might be hiding in one of them. But they didn’t see her.
The sky was blue now. A little breeze made the yellow roses on the fence bob up and down.
“Let’s go in the yard.” Nick stepped down from the chair. He went to get a pair of jeans out of his dresser.
“Sh-sh! Mother and Daddy are still asleep.” Marjorie tiptoed to her room to get dressed.
They slid down the bannister and walked through the house to the kitchen. Nick opened the back door. “Hey, look what’s in the magnolia tree!”
A black starling with a yellow beak sat on one of the lowest branches. It was shaking its wings. Drops of water splashed all around.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to teach a bird like that to talk?” Nick went out into the yard. Marjorie slipped out after him.
Nick walked quietly over to the magnolia tree. He stepped onto the bottom bar of the fence. From there he climbed to the top bar. Now he could reach a branch of the tree. Nick pulled himself up onto it.
The starling was still shaking water from its wings. Nick was splashed in the face. He reached up for the bird.
“Keep your dirty hands off me!” The starling hopped out of his reach.
Nick was so surprised he nearly fell out of the tree.
Marjorie came running down the flagstone path. “Leave the bird alone, Nick. And come down from there. You know Mother told us not to climb the tree.”
Nick was holding tight to the branch. “Marge, did you hear that? I don’t have to teach this bird to talk. It talks as well as I do.”
“Better,” the starling told him.
Marjorie looked up at the black bird. Its feathers shone in the sunlight. “It’s so beautiful!” she said. “Someone must have kept it for a pet.”
The starling tipped its head to one side and looked at Marjorie. “For a minute I thought you had some sense. But now I see you’re just as stupid as your brother.”
Nick glared at the starling. “Why do you have to be so nasty?”
“Your mother doesn’t want you in this tree,” the bird snapped. “And neither do I. Get out of it this minute.”
There was a shrill whistling sound. The starling looked around to see where it was coming from. The noise stopped suddenly.
The bird hopped higher in the magnolia tree. “What was that?”
“Mother’s teakettle,” Marjorie said. “She must be in the kitchen.”
Nick crawled along the branch to the trunk of the tree. He slid down the trunk to the ground.
Marjorie looked up into the magnolia. The starling was high in the tree now, and the leaves were so thick that the bird was hidden from sight.
Nick sniffed the air. “I smell bacon.” He walked toward the house. “Come on, Marge.” He opened the back door.
Mrs. Gordon was bending over a frying pan. “I thought you two were still asleep. What in the world were you doing in the yard at this hour?”
“There was a starling out there,” Nick told her.
Mrs. Gordon laughed. “Only one?”
“Don’t laugh, Mom,” Nick said. “I wanted to catch it and teach it to talk, but it already knew how.”
“Are you sure?” his mother asked.
“Nick’s telling the truth,” Marjorie said. “A bird was talking to us.”
Mr. Gordon walked into the kitchen.
Mrs. Gordon bega
n to take the bacon out of the frying pan and put it on a plate. “Listen to this, John,” she said. “The children were talking to a starling in the yard this morning.”
“That’s not a bad way to start the day,” Mr. Gordon said. “It’s almost as good as bacon for breakfast.”
“How do you want your eggs?” Mrs. Gordon asked.
After breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Gordon both left for work.
Marjorie made her bed and walked down the hall to Nick’s room. He was sitting on the floor with a big red book in his lap.
“What are you looking up?” Marjorie asked.
“Starlings,” Nick told her. “I found out they build their nests in hollow trees. This book doesn’t say anything about them being able to talk.”
“Let’s go to the park,” Marjorie said.
“Great idea.” Nick put the book on his desk. “I want to climb that big tree the spoon fell out of.”
Nick and Marjorie walked along the shady, tree-lined streets to Prospect Park. It was cool and quiet there. No cars were allowed in the park during the summer, except at rush hours.
Four ducks were swimming near the shore of the lake. Nick ran over to get a better look at them. The ducks swam away toward the little island.
A young man jogged down the roadway. Two old ladies sat on a bench and talked. Marjorie stopped to watch a pair of squirrels playing tag.
“Hurry up, Marge.” Nick began to walk around the lake. Marjorie ran to catch up with him. They started up the path that went around Lookout Mountain.
“What are these things on the ground?” Nick bent down and picked up a purple berry.
“That looks like a blackberry,” Marjorie said, “but there aren’t any blackberry bushes here.” She caught sight of a small tree that overhung the path. “That’s where they’re coming from.”
Nick stared at the tree. It was covered with berries. A bird sat on one of the branches. “Here’s another starling, Marge. You’re right. They do all look alike.”
The bird stretched its wings and glared at Nick. It opened its beak and said, “How can you be so stupid? I’m not in the least like any other bird.”