Three Witch Tales

by Ruth Chew

  Sandy grabbed Janet’s arm. “Did you hear that, Janet?” Sandy could hardly raise her voice to a whisper. “The red button talks!” she said. “It can answer questions.”

  Janet nodded. “Sandy,” she said, “the red button is right. We are stupid.” She held up the black button. It glittered like a diamond, each side flashing a different color. “We should have known. This is the Wishing Button. Every time I wished for something it came true.” Janet closed her hand over the button. “Funny,” she said, “now that I know it’s a Wishing Button, I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be scared, Janet,” Sandy said. “Just think hard and make a good wish.”

  Janet closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against her fist. Then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and rubbed the black button. “I wish we were our right size and standing beside Witch Betsy on the doorstep.”

  The Witch looked at Sandy and Janet. “I’m glad it was you who found the magic buttons,” she said. “I hope you didn’t get into trouble with them.” She put the flying saucer button into a little black handbag. “Please, could I have the other two. They’re not safe to play with.”

  Sandy looked at the red button. She had only just found out how to use it. “If this one answers questions,” she said, “it would be handy to have in school.”

  “A very good reason why you should give it back to me,” the Witch said. She held out her hand. Sandy gave her the button. Betsy dropped it into her handbag.

  “Please,” Sandy begged, “could we use the Wishing Button before we give it back?”

  Betsy looked shocked. “That’s the most dangerous button of all! I have never used it.”

  “Then why do you keep it?” Janet asked.

  “It’s better for me to have it than somebody like Silas,” Betsy said. “What do you want it for?”

  “We have to do something about the apples Silas gave my mother,” Sandy said. “My father always gets hungry at halftime when he’s watching a football game. He’s sure to take a piece of the apple pie Mother made.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” the Witch wanted to know. “Surely your father has a right to eat pie if he wants to. By the way, how did the cookies turn out?”

  “Mother sewed the cookie you made to Lisa’s snowsuit,” Sandy said.

  Betsy nodded. “I thought she would.”

  Sandy lost her temper. “Betsy!” she screamed. “It would be dangerous for my father to be invisible.”

  The Witch stared at her. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “The apples,” Janet explained.

  Betsy took a long look at Sandy. “Unless you steal them,” she said, “there is nothing wrong with those apples.”

  Sandy felt guilty. She didn’t know what to say.

  Janet felt she had to say something to change the subject. “Betsy, why don’t you rebuild your house with the Wishing Button?”

  “Too easy,” the Witch said. “There’s no fun in that. Anyway I was getting tired of the place.”

  Sandy was still worried about the apples. “Why were you invisible?” she asked the Witch.

  “A trick of the trade.” Betsy vanished right before their eyes. Then slowly she came back into view. “Now, if you’ll let me have that button you’re holding, Janet, I’ll be on my way.”

  Janet gave Betsy the glittering black Wishing Button. “I still have your brass chest,” she said.

  The Witch opened her bag and dropped the Wishing Button into it. “I don’t need the chest anymore. I’m planning to take a trip. The chest would be just one more thing to take along. You and Sandy can keep it. Oh, and don’t worry about Silas. He’s taken a job in the trimming store. He’d been among buttons so long, he found he wasn’t happy away from them.”

  Betsy started to walk down the steps. Then she turned and came back. She opened her handbag and took out a glass button. “Here’s something to keep in the chest,” she said. “I found it this morning in an antiques store on Coney Island Avenue.” Betsy handed the button to Sandy.

  The two girls looked at the glass button. It was soft gray in color and shaped like a round ball. And it seemed to be filled with smoke.

  “What’s it good for?” Sandy asked.

  Witch Betsy smiled. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m sure you and Janet will find a use for it.”

  “Holly, look!” Matthew pointed to the shiny black cat perched on the high back of their grandfather’s chair.

  The cat stretched all over. Now they could see that his whiskers and all four of his paws were snowy white. Slowly he closed one of his bright green eyes. Holly thought he was winking at her.

  Holly and Matthew had come to stay with their grandparents, the Dorritys, in Brooklyn. Their mother and father were away for a few days.

  Mrs. Dorrity came down from upstairs.

  “What’s the cat’s name, Granny?” Holly asked.

  Mrs. Dorrity laughed. “Your grandfather calls him Albert.”

  “Why, Grandpa?” Matthew wanted to know.

  “Because,” Mr. Dorrity said, “he’s the smartest cat I ever saw. I named him after Albert Einstein, the smartest scientist I ever heard of.”

  “I put your things in the back bedroom, Matthew,” his grandmother told him. “Holly can have the middle room. You’d better go up and unpack. I’ll get supper ready.” She went to the kitchen.

  Holly started upstairs. The black cat streaked past her and raced to the floor above. The children followed, but by the time they reached the top of the stairs, the cat was out of sight.

  They were in a narrow hall.

  “Let’s explore.” Matthew started to walk toward the front of the old house.

  “Matt,” Holly reminded him, “didn’t Granny tell us to unpack?”

  The two of them went into a room halfway down the hall.

  The suitcase with Holly’s clothes was on the bed. Matthew was two years older than his sister. He helped her unpack. Then they both went to the back bedroom. The door was open. Holly peeked in. She grabbed her brother’s arm and put her finger to her lips.

  Matthew stared. There was a big bookcase in the room. Three books were open on the floor. The black cat was lying on his stomach. With one white paw he held the largest book in place. With another he was turning the pages.

  Creak! Matthew stepped on a squeaky board in the old floor.

  Albert jumped to his feet and began shoving the books around. The cat leaped into the air. Then he began to chase his tail as if he were a kitten.

  Holly picked up the books and went to put them back into the bookcase.

  Albert stopped chasing his tail and walked over to her. He began to purr. Suddenly he bumped his head against her leg.

  Holly was so startled that she dropped the biggest book.

  Matthew rushed to grab it, but he slipped on a little rug and slid across the bare floor. He held on to the end of the bed to keep from crashing into the radiator. Two wooden slats fell from the bed frame.

  Moments later Mrs. Dorrity came into the room. “What are you children doing? I thought the kitchen ceiling was going to fall on my head!”

  Now Mr. Dorrity, out of breath and holding on to the cat with both hands, came puffing in. “Guess who I caught sneaking down the hall?” He looked at the book on the floor. “Albert thinks books are something to play with. We’ll have to put a hook on this door to keep him out.” He took the cat downstairs.

  Mrs. Dorrity went back to the kitchen.

  Holly helped her brother unpack.

  Matthew kept whistling under his breath.

  When Mr. Dorrity came back with tools, Matthew stopped whistling and helped his grandfather put a hook and eye on each side of the door at the right height for Matthew and Holly to reach them.

  Holly went to set the table. Supper was ready when her brother and her grandfather came downstairs.

  Between bites of roast chicken, Holly asked, “How long have you had Albert, Grandpa?”

  “Jus
t since last Tuesday,” Mr. Dorrity said. “We found him sleeping in your grandmother’s herb garden.”

  “He’s a nice cat, really,” Mrs. Dorrity said.

  “We just have to keep him out of our books,” her husband reminded her.

  “Maybe he wants to read them,” Matthew said.

  This was exactly what Holly had been thinking. But when her grandfather burst out laughing, she was glad she hadn’t said it.

  After supper they all went out into the little backyard. The cat came out after them.

  A swing dangled from an enormous pear tree. The cat made a flying leap and landed on the swing seat. He sat there swaying gently back and forth.

  Mr. Dorrity rubbed his chin. “Albert really ought to be in a circus.”

  “Maybe he ran away from one,” Mrs. Dorrity said.

  The pear tree shaded most of the garden. Holly saw a lot of plants like the ones in her backyard at home. “I thought this was an herb garden, Granny.”

  “Herbs need sun.” Mrs. Dorrity pointed to the corner of the garden farthest from the pear tree. “My herb garden is over there.”

  Holly and Matthew followed their grandmother over to the patch of sunny ground. It was crowded with all sorts of plants. Some of them had feathery leaves, and others had shiny ones. One even had curly purple leaves.

  Mrs. Dorrity showed the children some spiky blue flowers. “I make one kind of tea from the leaves of these and a different tea from the little white daisies over there.”

  Matthew bent over a plant with bright blue flowers and hairy leaves. “What do you use these flowers for, Gran?”

  “I make them into candy,” Mrs. Dorrity told him. “And the leaves are good for lemonade!”

  Mr. Dorrity joined them. “I always thought herbs were just those dried things in little jars.” He held a green leaf under Holly’s nose. “Smells like chewing gum, doesn’t it?” He picked another leaf. “And this is probably what brought Albert to the garden.”

  “Catnip?” Matthew asked.

  “You guessed it,” his grandfather said. “He was fast asleep when I first saw him. He must have been drunk on catnip.”

  Holly turned to look at Albert, who had stopped swinging but was still sitting on the swing. She could see that the cat’s ears were flat against his head. He seemed to know that Mr. Dorrity was talking about him.

  Silently the cat jumped down from the swing and trotted to the kitchen door. It was closed but not clicked shut. With one white paw Albert pulled the door open and slipped into the house.

  The swing jiggled for a little while after the cat jumped off. Matthew walked over to it. “Where’s Albert?”

  “He went into the house,” Holly said. “He didn’t like Grandpa saying he got drunk on catnip.”

  Mr. Dorrity laughed. “You mean I hurt his feelings? I’ll have to be more careful after this.”

  Mrs. Dorrity opened the back door. “Come indoors, children. It’s getting late.”

  She held the door open until everyone was inside.

  Mr. Dorrity looked around the kitchen. “I wonder where that cat is. At least we know he’s not playing with the books in the back bedroom.” He yawned. “Well, I’m off to bed. Anybody have a hug for me?”

  Holly and Matthew both went to hug their grandfather.

  Mrs. Dorrity kissed them goodnight. “Sleep well,” she said.

  The children went upstairs. They kept looking for the cat, but they didn’t see him anywhere. The old house was spooky at night. A little light came from a night-light in the bathroom.

  Matthew snapped on the light in Holly’s room halfway down the hall. He walked into the room and looked around. “No cat here.”

  “There are no books in here either,” Holly said. “Maybe I can find something to read in your room.”

  They went around the bend in the hall to Matthew’s room.

  The door was closed, but there was a dim light showing under it.

  For a moment the two children stood quite still. Then Holly took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  Albert was lying on the floor with a book open in front of him. A little square flashlight was set on its side to shine on the page of the book as the cat turned the pages.

  “That’s my flashlight! He’s wearing out the battery.” Matthew switched it off and put it into his pocket.

  Holly turned on the ceiling light and bent down to pick up the heavy book.

  The cat put both front paws on the open pages. “Don’t lose my place.”

  Holly and Matthew stared at the cat. Then Matthew picked up an envelope from the desk. “Will this do for a bookmark?”

  Holly put the envelope in the book to mark the cat’s place. She put the book on the bottom shelf of the big bookcase. “Just be careful with the books, Albert. Grandpa thinks you’re playing with them.”

  “It’s not easy for me to take them out and put them back,” the cat said. “Maybe you two could help me.”

  “Must you read the books?” Matthew asked. “Grandpa and I went to a lot of trouble to keep you from getting into them. How did you get in here, anyway?”

  Albert stood up and stretched. “If you hook the door, I’ll show you.”

  Matthew shut the door and hooked it on the inside.

  “Out of my way!” the cat ordered.

  Both children moved away from the door.

  Albert measured the distance with his eyes. Then he jumped up and knocked the hook out of the eye. He landed on the floor with a thump.

  In almost no time Mrs. Dorrity came pattering down the hall and tapped on the door. “What’s going on in there? I heard a bang. I thought you children were going to bed. Does your mother let you stay up so late?”

  The cat ran under the bed.

  Holly opened the door. “It’s my fault, Granny. I wanted a book to read.”

  Mrs. Dorrity went to the bookcase. “Here’s one I always loved.” She pulled out a battered book with a red cloth binding, and handed it to Holly. “Don’t stay up too late with it. By the way, has either of you seen that cat? I want to give him his supper.”

  Before either of the children could answer, Albert tiptoed out from his hiding place and went to rub against Mrs. Dorrity’s leg. She picked him up and held him against her cheek. “Silly cat,” she said. “We all know you weren’t drunk on catnip. You’re much too smart for that.” She took him downstairs to the kitchen with her.

  Matthew took out his flashlight and got down on his hands and knees in front of the bookcase to look at the title of the big book Albert had been reading. “Holly,” he whispered, “take a look at this!”

  Holly had already started the book her grandmother had given her. Now she lay on her stomach to look at the name of the book the cat found so interesting. “Magic from the Common Garden Herb,” she read.

  “We’d better watch that cat,” Matthew said.

  Holly went to her own room to read before taking her shower. She sat on her bed, but before she could open the book, her brother came into the room. “What’s the matter, Matt?”

  “Holly, was that cat really talking? Or am I nuts?” Matthew asked.

  “He was talking,” Holly said. “You know Grandpa said he was the smartest cat he ever saw.”

  “Grandpa laughed when I said Albert wanted to read,” Matthew reminded her.

  “Maybe Albert doesn’t just want to,” Holly said. “I think he does read.”

  “Then why doesn’t he tell Gramps he won’t hurt the books?” Matthew asked.

  Holly thought about this. “Grandpa doesn’t believe in magic. He might have a heart attack if Albert spoke to him. Even you thought you were crazy. Albert is a nice cat. He likes Grandpa and doesn’t want to hurt him.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Matthew said.

  At this moment Mrs. Dorrity walked in and saw that Holly was holding the book. “I shouldn’t have given that to you tonight, dear,” she said. “You’ll never get to bed. I’ll keep it for you till tomorrow.” She too
k the book. “You don’t have time to take a bath. Maybe you two should take showers instead.” She left the room.

  Matthew went to his room to get undressed. He rushed to the bathroom before Holly could get there first.

  When at last Holly was in bed, she had a hard time getting to sleep. Finally she got up and tiptoed over to the tall bay windows at one end of the room.

  The center window was open. Holly peeked through the venetian blind and looked down into the backyard. A yellow moon was rising over the big pear tree.

  Holly saw something moving around in the corner of the garden where her grandmother grew her herbs. It seemed to be an animal. Maybe it was a rat!

  When her eyes became used to the moonlight, she saw that it was a black cat with white paws. He was nibbling at the plants.

  Grandpa was right after all! Holly said to herself. Albert was crazy about catnip.

  The cat backed out of the patch of plants and trotted to the kitchen door.

  Holly went back to bed. In a few minutes she was fast asleep.

  The early morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in the venetian blind woke Holly. She jumped out of bed and pulled the blind all the way up. Now a gentle breeze came in her open window. Holly went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

  She came back to get dressed. As she leaned over to roll up the legs of her jeans and tie her shoelaces, a furry head bumped against her leg.

  “Good morning, Albert,” Holly said.

  The cat purred. Holly scooped him up and held him against her cheek. She waited for him to say something, but Albert just went on purring.

  Holly wondered if she had dreamed that the cat was talking last night.

  Then she heard a purry whisper. “Wake your brother! He has his door hooked. I want to get in there.”

  Holly remembered that Matthew was worried about what the cat was up to. She held on to Albert and took him down the hall toward her brother’s room.