The Witch at the Window

by Ruth Chew

  “I don’t know.” Marjorie looked at the sand scattered across the table. She counted all the tigers’ teeth, but she didn’t see the key. “Mother will have a fit when she finds out I’ve lost it.”

  “What’ll we do, Marge?” Nick asked. “We can’t get into our house without the key. I’m hungry. It must be lunch time.”

  Marjorie sat down on the dirt floor and put on the wet sock. She laced the old shoelace back into her shoe. “We’ll have to do without lunch. Let’s go home and wait for Mother and Dad.” She stood up and took a look at the table. “Before we go, we’d better put everything away.”

  Nick went to get the Domino Sugar sack. Marjorie picked up the tigers’ teeth. She dusted the sand off each one and dropped them all into the green bottle. With her hand she brushed the sand into a neat pile at the edge of the table.

  Marjorie felt something hard in the sand. She took hold of it. “Nick, here’s the key!”

  Marjorie held up the key by the string and swung it in front of her brother. “I don’t know why I couldn’t find it before.”

  Nick had a strange look on his face. He seemed to be looking right through Marjorie. Suddenly he started to laugh.

  “What’s wrong with you, Nick?” Marjorie asked.

  “Marge, the spell worked!” Nick said. “But not the way we wanted it to. The key vanished. And so have you!”

  Marjorie looked at the key swinging from her hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t argue, Marge.” Nick held out his hand. “Just give me the key for a minute.”

  Marjorie dropped the key into Nick’s hand. When she let go of the string, she couldn’t see it anymore. And she couldn’t see Nick, either. She blinked. Then she understood. “Now do you see the key, Nick?”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “And I can see you too.”

  “But now I can’t see you, or the key,” Marjorie told him.

  “You can have the key back, Marge.” Nick put it in her hand. At once she could see him.

  Marjorie hung the key around her neck. She picked up the Domino Sugar bag with one hand and held it just below the edge of the table. With her other hand Marjorie swept the desert sand into the bag. “Can you see what I’m doing, Nick?”

  “I see the sand moving itself into the sugar bag,” Nick said. “It looks weird.”

  “Then it’s just the key, not everything I touch, that disappears.” Marjorie took the bag of sand and the bottle of tigers’ teeth back to the shelf where they had found them.

  “Your clothes are invisible,” Nick said. “What happens if you put something into your pocket?”

  The wooden spoon was on the table. Marjorie went over and picked it up. Nick watched the spoon rise from the table.

  “This is too big to go in my pocket,” Marjorie said.

  “It’s gone, Marge. What did you do with it?” Nick asked.

  “I tucked it under my shirt.” Marjorie started to turn the pages of the big book.

  “Cut it out, Marge. You’re giving me the creeps,” Nick said. “It looks as if those pages are flipping over all by themselves.”

  Marjorie took the key from around her neck and laid it on the table. “Is that better?”

  “Much,” Nick said. “I can see you now. What are you looking for in the book?”

  “There’s something I always wanted to do,” Marjorie said, “ever since I saw Peter Pan on television.”

  Nick grabbed the book and started looking through it.

  Marjorie laughed. “I thought you were hungry.”

  “I am,” Nick said. “But we’d get home for lunch much quicker if we could fly. Hey! Here’s the spell to do it.”

  Marjorie leaned over his shoulder. “It looks easy. All we need are seven feathers, each one a different color.”

  “I once found a blue jay’s feather in the yard,” Nick said. “But I don’t have it anymore.”

  “I’ll see if Stella has any feathers.” Marjorie went over to the shelf in the wall. She took the lid off a box. “Spiderwebs.” She peeked in all the other boxes and jars. “There’s nothing that even looks like a feather here,” Marjorie said. “Let’s go home.”

  Marjorie went back to the table to get her flashlight. “Where’s the key, Nick? I left it right here.”

  Nick shut the book of spells. He began to run his hand over the top of the table. Marjorie watched him. “Oh, I forgot. The key is invisible until you touch it.”

  All at once Nick disappeared.

  “I see you found it,” Marjorie said. “Would you mind wearing it on the way home? I have to hold the flashlight, and it bothers you to see things like that moving around.”

  “Let me be first up the rope,” Nick said.

  “All right. Just tell me when you’re out of here,” Marjorie said.

  “Here I go!” Marjorie heard Nick’s voice from outside the door. She looked around Stella’s cave to make sure everything was in the right place. She went out and closed the door behind her.

  The flashlight lit up the tangled roots in the dark hole under the tree. Marjorie saw the clothesline dangling down. It was jumping as if it were alive.

  “It’s harder going up than it was coming down,” she heard Nick say. “There’s not much light coming down. Shine the flashlight over here, Marge.”

  Marjorie turned the flashlight toward where she thought Nick was.

  “How’s that?”

  “A little higher,” he said.

  Marjorie pointed the flashlight about four feet above her head.

  “That’s fine,” Nick told her.

  Marjorie began to shinny up the rope. It wasn’t easy to do with the flashlight in her hand. When she came to the first twisted lump inside the tree, she decided to stop and rest.

  “Ow! Get off my foot, Marge.” Nick was already on the lump.

  “If you want to go up the rope first, Nick,” Marjorie said, “you’d better give me the key, so I can see where you are.”

  “Okay,” Nick said. “Hold still and I’ll hang it around your neck.”

  Marjorie clung to the rope. She felt the string slip over her head. Now she could see her brother.

  Nick began climbing the rope again.

  Marjorie came after him with the flashlight.

  When Nick reached the top of the hole, he climbed out onto a branch of the beech tree. The starling was perched on a nearby twig.

  “Hello,” Nick said. “Are you still here?”

  “That’s a stupid question,” the bird said. “Do I look as if I’m somewhere else? Anyway, I have as much right to be here as you do. Maybe more.”

  Marjorie turned off her flashlight and put it into her pocket. Then she crawled out of the hole in the tree. She sat down on the branch beside Nick.

  “Where’s your sister?” the starling asked. The bird was looking right at Marjorie.

  Marjorie thought it would be fun to play a trick on it. She took the key off her neck and slipped the string over Nick’s head.

  “Awk!” The starling stared first at Marjorie and then at the place where Nick had been a moment before.

  It looked so surprised that Marjorie couldn’t help laughing.

  “Oh, there you are, Marge,” Nick said. “I thought it was about time you got out of the tree.” Suddenly he stopped talking and just stared at her. “I can see you! Did you drop the key?”

  “No. I just gave it back to you.” Marjorie untied the clothesline from the branch and took the big wooden spoon out from under her shirt. Then she began to wind the rope around the spoon.

  The starling watched everything.

  Marjorie finished winding up the clothesline. She tucked the wooden spoon under her arm. “Come on, Nick. Let’s go.”

  There was no answer.

  Marjorie reached out to touch her brother’s arm. She felt only air. “Nick,” she yelled, “where are you?”

  “I’m down here on the ground already,” Nick shouted. “What’s taking you so long?”


  Marjorie started down the tree. It was easier than when she climbed down to go home for the rope. Marjorie didn’t step on any weak branches. And this time she didn’t hurry. When she got to the bottom she slid down the trunk of the tree.

  Marjorie landed on her feet and started walking quickly along the path. She heard footsteps behind her.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for me?” Nick asked.

  “You didn’t wait for me,” Marjorie told him. “And you scared me. You’d better not do anything like that again with the magic key.”

  “Don’t be mad, Marge. You were playing tricks yourself,” Nick reminded her. “I know what’s wrong with you,” he said. “You’re hungry. You’ll feel much better after lunch.”

  “So would I—if I had any lunch,” a voice croaked.

  Marjorie and Nick looked up. The starling was sitting on the branch of a young oak tree. “I’m sick of mulberries,” the bird said. “What are you going to eat?”

  “Whatever Mom left for us in the refrigerator,” Nick said.

  Marjorie was sorry now that she’d played a trick on the bird. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” she said.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” The starling flew down and perched on the end of the wooden spoon.

  Marjorie and Nick took the bird home with them.

  Nick unlocked the front door of the house.

  Marjorie went inside with the starling on the spoon. “Give me the key, Nick.”

  A moment later she felt the key in her hand, and she could see her brother. Marjorie hung the key around her neck.

  “Now that you are invisible,” Nick told her, “the bird seems to be riding on a flying spoon.”

  “Oh!” the starling said. “I wish I could see that.”

  Marjorie walked over to the big round mirror in the hall.

  The bird stretched its wings, cocked its head, and stared into the mirror. “I’m not such a bad-looking bird after all.”

  “Don’t you know what you look like?” Nick asked.

  “I’ve tried to see myself in the lake,” the starling told him. “But it’s full of beer cans and waterweed.”

  Marjorie looked into the mirror. She couldn’t see herself at all, but the black starling and the wooden spoon seemed to be floating in mid-air. The bird looked like a witch on a broom.

  Marjorie remembered that her mother didn’t want birds in the house. “Nick, how about taking our guest into the yard? We could have a picnic on the table there.”

  Nick tried to lift the starling off the spoon.

  “Don’t bother,” the starling said. “I don’t mind staying on the spoon. Just set me on the picnic table.”

  “I have to put Mother’s clothesline away.” Marjorie took the spoon and Nick picked up the starling and went outside.

  Marjorie went down to the laundry room. She unwound the clothesline and put it away. Then she ran upstairs and hid the spoon in her dresser drawer. She took the key off her neck and set it on the little glass tray on her dresser. As soon as Marjorie let go of it, the key disappeared.

  Down in the kitchen, Marjorie looked in the refrigerator. She found a bowl of red Jell-O and a plate with a hunk of meat loaf on it. Marjorie put them on a big tray with a container of milk, three peaches, a loaf of bread, and a jar of peanut butter. She added paper cups and napkins.

  Marjorie opened the kitchen drawer and took out silverware for the picnic. She caught sight of the very small spoon her mother used to eat soft-boiled eggs. Marjorie put it on the tray too.

  She went to get a plastic tablecloth from the buffet in the dining room. Then she carried the heavy tray out into the backyard.

  The picnic table was in a shady place near the back fence. Marjorie spread the cloth on it and set three places. “Lunch is ready!” she called.

  Nick was trying to fill the birdbath with the garden hose. The water spurted from the nozzle. It splashed out of the birdbath and all over Nick. “Sorry,” he said to the starling on the edge of the birdbath.

  The bird was even wetter than Nick. It shook the water from its black feathers. “You did me a favor, Nick. I was much too hot. Now I’m nice and cool.”

  Nick pulled off his sneakers and left them to dry in the sun. He hung his shirt on a rose bush. Then he walked over to the picnic table and sat down on a bench. “Come on,” he yelled to the bird. “You can get a drink now.”

  The starling flew across the yard. Marjorie poured a little milk into a paper cup and held it for the bird to drink.

  The starling was very thirsty. It kept on drinking until the cup was empty. Then it looked at Marjorie. “Nice of you to help me. I haven’t tasted milk for a long time.”

  Nick was spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. He broke off a little piece and held it out to the starling.

  The bird stood on one foot and took the bit of bread with the other. “Thank you, Nick.”

  Marjorie wondered if she’d heard right. Somebody must have taught the starling manners after all!

  The bird pecked at the peanut butter for a few minutes. “This stuff sticks to the roof of my beak.”

  Marjorie was making a meat loaf sandwich for herself. “Maybe you’d like some of this.” She cut off a little slice of meat loaf.

  The starling tried to pick up a fork. “Marjorie, would you please hold this for me? It’s just a bit too big.”

  Marjorie held the fork with the meat loaf on it so the starling could take a bite. She ate her sandwich at the same time. “Meat loaf is Daddy’s favorite. How do you like it?”

  The starling wiped its beak with a paper napkin. “It’s even better than beetles’ whiskers.”

  When it was time for dessert, Marjorie used the big tablespoon to fill three paper cups with Jell-O. She took a teaspoon for herself, gave one to Nick, and handed her mother’s tiny egg spoon to the starling.

  The bird hopped onto the rim of the paper cup.

  “Take it easy!” Nick grabbed the cup just in time to keep it from tipping over. Then he and Marjorie took turns holding it so the starling could eat.

  At first the bird had a little trouble with the spoon. But soon it was happily scooping Jell-O out of the cup. “Eating from a spoon keeps my feathers from getting sticky,” the starling said.

  When lunch was over, Marjorie and Nick cleared the picnic table and put everything on the big tray. The starling stacked the dirty paper cups one inside the other.

  “What are you going to do this afternoon?” the starling asked.

  “I’m tired of climbing up and down that beech tree,” Marjorie said. “Maybe we’ll go to the zoo after all.”

  “Well, have fun!” The bird fluttered up into the magnolia tree. “Thanks for the lunch.” It stretched its wings and then flew up over the rooftops and out of sight.

  Nick’s shirt and sneakers were dry now. He put them on. “That bird turned out to be pretty nice once you got to know it.”

  “Maybe all along it was just hungry.” Marjorie handed him the folded tablecloth. “This goes in the dining room drawer.” She carried the tray into the house.

  “I’ll get the key.” Marjorie ran upstairs and felt in the little glass tray. As soon as her fingers touched the key, she could see it. Marjorie hung it around her neck and went downstairs.

  The clock in the front hall struck two. “We’d better hurry,” Marjorie said. “The zoo closes at four.”

  Nick was sitting on the bottom landing of the stairs. He jumped to his feet. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! Where are you anyway?”

  “Right here.” Marjorie touched his elbow. “Come on.” She opened the door.

  They headed back to the park. The zoo was all the way over on the other side by Flatbush Avenue.

  The hot sun beat down on their heads.

  “Why do you want to go to the zoo all of a sudden, Marge?” Nick asked.

  “You’ll find out when we get there,” Marjorie told him.

  They walked along the stone wall at the edge of the lake.
Two boys were fishing. Nick saw a pail beside them on the wall. He went over to it. “Wow! Look at the big sunfish in here, Marge.”

  “I didn’t know there were any that big in the lake,” Marjorie said.

  The nearest boy stared at Nick. “Are you talking to yourself, kid?”

  Nick didn’t know what to say. He walked away from the boys. Marjorie ran after him.

  The two children went under the old iron bridge that arched over the lake. They crossed the Long Meadow. Then they followed a little stream until they came to the rear gate of the zoo.

  Marjorie always liked to look at the statue of a lioness with cubs. But Nick was walking too fast. He marched over to a big round cage.

  “They’ve got a dog kennel here with raccoons in it,” Nick said. “I thought there were birds in this cage.”

  A zoo keeper was walking by. “There used to be, son. Now the birds are over there.” He pointed to a brick building with a row of cages along the outside.

  Perched on bare branches in the cages were birds with feathers of every color Nick could imagine.

  Marjorie whispered in his ear. “Now you know why we came to the zoo.”

  Marjorie and Nick went over to the red brick building. A downy-headed bird with long tail feathers was walking across the floor of one cage.

  “There are five different colors on just that one bird,” Nick said. “And all we need are seven feathers!”

  “I wonder what kind of bird it is,” Marjorie said. “There aren’t any signs on the cages.”

  The zoo man was standing by the door of the building. He couldn’t see Marjorie, so he thought it was Nick who had spoken. “That’s a golden pheasant, son. It comes from China.” The man opened the door and went inside the building.

  Nick was looking at the cages. “There’s no way to get into them.”

  “The keepers have to go in somehow,” Marjorie said. “The gates must be inside the zoo house.”

  “The birds keep flying in and out,” Nick said.