The Little Leftover Witch

by Florence Laughlin

  “Come back to your seat, Felina,” said Miss Prang quietly.

  “Is—is that an order?” asked Felina.

  Miss Prang looked surprised, but she said yes, very quickly. So Felina went forlornly back to her seat. All the children stared at her.

  When the little witch came home that evening her hat looked very strange. As though it had a block of wood hidden in it, or maybe a book.

  She refused to eat any supper and crept upstairs without saying a word to anyone.

  When Mrs. Doon went to see what was the matter, she found Felina in the closet. She had Mr. Doon’s flashlight, and her head was bent over the reader.

  “What are you doing, darling?” asked Lucinda’s mother.

  “I’m learning to read,” said Felina. “All the other children can read. Miss Prang says if I can’t read I’ll have to go back with the baby class.”

  The proud little chin was trembling.

  Mrs. Doon sat right down on the floor and gathered the little witch up in her arms. “You are going to read,” she said softly. “You’re going to be the best reader in that old class.

  “Come down and eat some supper now. After that, we will have a reading lesson.”

  That’s how Felina came to learn to read.

  Mrs. Doon helped. Mr. Doon helped. Lucinda helped. Every night, after school, they worked over the reader. Page by page. Word by word. Felina may have been a witch, but she was a smart one. In just a few days she was sounding out words and reading sentences.

  * * *

  One day, when Lucinda and Felina came running home from school, they found a stranger on the front porch. That is, he was a stranger to Felina. But not to Lucinda!

  Lucinda opened the gate and gave a cry of delight. “Grandfather! Grandfather!” she shouted. And she rushed up the walk and jumped right into his arms.

  Now, Grandfather Doon was a beautiful man. He looked like his son George only he was older. He was tall, and his hair was silver gray, and he had laughed so much all of his life that the laugh was part of his skin.

  Felina stood at the gate all by herself and watched the wonderful scene.

  Grandfather Doon said, “I came to spend the holidays, Lucinda. I flew in a great jet plane from New Haven. I flew over the rivers and over the mountains and—”

  All at once he looked past Lucinda’s golden head and saw Felina in her funny little hat. “What ho!” he said, setting Lucinda down. “Who have we here?”

  “That’s Felina, Grandfather. That is our little witch.” Lucinda ran to Felina and led her to the porch. “She’s our very own witch and she lives at our house. Oh, could you be her grandfather too?” asked Lucinda.

  “Why of course!” declared Grandfather Doon. And suddenly he did a surprising thing. He reached down and picked Felina up in his arms. Books, witch hat, and all.

  “Saints be praised!” he cried. “A real live witch! I’ve never been introduced to one before.”

  And he hugged her warmly and kissed her sharp little nose. Then he held his head back, looking at her, laughing till his blue eyes sparkled.

  Felina started to laugh too. Not a little witch’s cackle either, but a real laugh that sounded more like the lovely trill of a bird.

  Mrs. Doon heard it and came running to the porch in her apron. Mr. Doon heard it as he drove down the lane and stepped on the gas.

  “Grandfather, Grandfather Doon,” cried Felina. “I can read.” She told him the news she had been bursting to share. “Today in class I read a whole page. And nobody laughed.”

  “Well, wonder of wonders!” said Grandfather, as though he had heard of a miracle. He put the little witch down on the porch. “I can’t wait for a demonstration.”

  So right then and there, Felina showed them. They all sat down on the steps. Mrs. Doon, Mr. Doon, and Lucinda. Grandfather sat next to Felina and helped hold the book.

  Felina read a whole page about Dick and Jane and Spot. They all agreed that it was wonderful. Even Itchabody came and listened politely.

  7

  Grandfather Gives Felina a Gift

  After that Felina did very well in school. The other children accepted her as one of them, in spite of her strange little hat. She was so busy learning to read and to make her letters, she had little time to practice her Small Magic.

  One day Suzie Parker, one of the pupils, brought a box of tiny pink envelopes to school. She gave one to Lucinda and one to Felina and one to every other child in the class.

  They were invitations to a birthday party!

  Felina had never been to a party, of course. But Lucinda was very excited.

  “I’ll wear my pink dress with ruffles, and you may wear my yellow dress with ruffles,” she said to Felina.

  They looked very pretty, walking down the block, all dressed up. Lucinda carried a present for Suzie in her hand. Felina carried her present in her black witch’s hat.

  The party was great fun at first. Felina played all the games. She ate candy and popcorn. She even laughed now and then.

  Then Mrs. Parker brought in the birthday cake. It had white icing, decorated with pink roses. The candles flickered and danced as the children sang:

  “Happy birthday to you!

  Happy birthday to you!

  Happy birthday, dear Suzie, . . .”

  Everyone sang, except Felina, of course. She did not know the words.

  Then the children began to chatter excitedly about birthdays.

  “Mine is in May,” shouted Lucinda. “I’m going to have Mayflowers on my cake.”

  “Mine is in July,” cried Tommy Jones. “I’m going to have flags.”

  They all shouted and laughed and laughed and shouted. Except Felina.

  Then Mrs. Parker set the wonderful cake in front of Suzie. Suzie took a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks.

  Then—something very mysterious happened.

  Before the little girl could say poof! and blow out the candles they went out all by themselves! One by one. Phft, phft, phft. Tiny curls of smoke rose from the wicks.

  Suzie was so startled she began to cry.

  Then all the colored balloons began to pop. One by one. Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Then the most dreadful thing of all happened. The beautiful new birthday doll, which was perched on a table near Felina, came tumbling down. She fell—plunk—right into a big plate of ice cream. And alas! It was chocolate.

  There was a great commotion, with everyone squealing at once. And when Lucinda looked around for the little witch, she wasn’t to be found anywhere.

  “It was the little witch who did it,” said one of the children. “She cast a bad spell on Suzie’s party.”

  “It wasn’t, it wasn’t,” cried Lucinda. “Felina is not a bad witch anymore.” Then she opened the door and ran as fast as she could down Mockingbird Lane.

  Felina was hiding in the closet when Lucinda reached home. She wouldn’t open the door until Grandfather Doon came upstairs and asked her to, very politely.

  He led her down the stairs. And just as they reached the lower floor, the phone rang.

  It was Mrs. Parker. She told Mrs. Doon all about what had happened at Suzie’s party.

  “The children believe that your little witch was up to some of her tricks,” said Mrs. Parker. “My Suzie is crying right now because her new doll has chocolate ice cream in her hair.”

  “I’m very sorry,” said Mrs. Doon. “I’ll try to get to the bottom of it right away.”

  She turned to Felina, who was standing in the middle of the floor.

  “Felina,” she said gently, “did you perform some of your Small Magic at Suzie’s party?”

  “It was an awful old party,” said the little witch.

  “I want you to tell me the truth,” said Mrs. Doon. “Whatever you say, Felina, I am going to believe you.

  “Now I’ll ask you once more. Did you play tricks at the party?”

  For an awful moment the little witch said nothing. Then she turned and ran upstairs.
/>
  Lucinda started to follow her, but her mother held her back. “Let Felina think about this for a while,” she said quietly. “I think she will come down when she is ready and tell us the truth.”

  Mrs. Doon was mending socks when Felina crept slowly down the stairs a half-hour later. Grandfather Doon and Lucinda were watching television.

  The little witch stood in front of Mrs. Doon. Her head bowed. “I did it,” she said. “I spoiled the party.”

  “But why?” asked Mrs. Doon gently. She put her arm around the little figure.

  For a moment Felina was silent. Then she burst out, “They all have birthdays! Everyone in the world has a birthday but me.”

  “But you must have a birthday, dear,” said Mrs. Doon. “Can’t you remember when it is?”

  Felina shook her head. “Witches don’t have birthdays, I guess,” she replied. “Witches just are.”

  Grandfather Doon switched off the television set and stood up.

  “This is a disgraceful situation,” he declared. “Everybody deserves to have a birthday. I’ll tell you what, Felina, you may have my birthday.”

  “May I?” cried Felina. Her small face lighted up, then grew cloudy again. “But then, you wouldn’t have any.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” said Grandfather Doon, “I’ve had so many birthdays I’ve almost lost count. I’ve had dozens of cakes and blown out hundreds of candles. I don’t need mine anymore. I’ll be glad for you to enjoy it. October thirty-first, that’s when it is.”

  “Why that’s the same date as Halloween,” said Lucinda.

  “So it is, and very fitting, too,” said Grandfather. “And just to make it legal,” he added, “we’ll put it in writing.”

  With those words, he sat down at the desk and drew a piece of paper toward him. In bold, black ink, he wrote these words:

  For the sum of one hug and other valuable considerations, I, George P. Doon Sr., do hereby sell and bequeath to little Miss Felina one birthday—happily used for sixty-one years but still in good condition. Said birthday is celebrated on October 31st of each year and is to be hers from this day forth and forevermore. Cake and candle-blowing privileges included.

  Signed: George P. Doon Sr.

  With a little bow, Grandfather Doon presented the document to Felina. “You now have a birthday all your own,” he said. “Next year we will help you celebrate it. There’ll be cake and ice cream and presents. Yes siree!”

  Felina hugged him tightly. “Oh, Grandfather Doon, thank you! Thank you and thank you.”

  Everyone stared at the little witch. It was the very first time anyone had ever heard her say thank you. They could tell by her glowing face that she really meant it.

  “There’s just one thing more, Felina,” said Mrs. Doon regretfully. “When we do something that hurts another person we must go and say we’re sorry.”

  “Witches never say sorry,” Felina retorted instantly.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to go down and apologize to Mrs. Parker and Suzie for spoiling the party,” said Mrs. Doon.

  “Let me tell you something, Felina,” put in Grandfather Doon, “something I learned when I was just about your age. When you have a difficult duty to perform, there’s only one way to lick it. You just stand up tall and do it. Right away, without making a fuss about it. Then it’s over in no time.

  “If it’ll make you feel better,” he added, “I’ll go along with you to Suzie’s house, just for the walk. After all, you own my birthday now, and I feel a wee bit responsible about the owner of that birthday having a good reputation.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Felina, “if you’ll go with me.”

  And that’s how it was. They went down the street, side by side, and Grandfather Doon stood behind a bush, while Felina went up and knocked at Mrs. Parker’s door.

  She said, “I’m sorry,” very politely, to Mrs. Parker. She said, “I’m sorry,” to Suzie, who wasn’t crying anymore. Suzie had discovered that the birthday doll, being made of plastic, was washable. It was now as good as new, in spite of having tumbled into the chocolate ice cream.

  Suzie and her mother were very nice about it all and accepted Felina’s apologies graciously. Mrs. Parker even invited her to “come again.” And when Felina went back down the steps her heart felt as light as a baby cloud.

  Grandfather held her hand as they returned home. And somebody even said later that they saw both Grandfather and Felina skipping, as they went along.

  8

  Christmas Is Coming!

  Thanksgiving Day was cold, crisp, and beautiful. Mrs. Doon stuffed the huge turkey that Grandfather Doon bought. She made two golden pumpkin pies and a great bowl of sparkling red cranberry sauce.

  Lucinda and Felina straightened the house and set the table and made place cards for everyone. They colored orange pumpkin faces and put names on them.

  They even made one for Itchabody and put it by his dish on the porch. And old Itchabody just stood around waiting and whining hungrily, while the turkey simmered merrily away in the kitchen oven.

  Felina ate some of everything. She ate turkey and sweet potatoes and cranberries and pie. She ate until she was stuffed and not once did she mention jibbers’ gizzards or black-bat soup.

  It was a truly wonderful Turkey Day, and when Grandfather Doon said grace, he added under his breath, “And thank you, dear Lord, for sending us this little witch to love. She certainly makes life interesting. Amen.”

  When Thanksgiving was over and Itchabody had gobbled the last scrap of leftover turkey, the Doon family began to get ready for Christmas, the biggest day of the year.

  Mr. Doon made things in his shop in the garage and kept the door locked. Mrs. Doon made things in the sewing room and warned everyone not to peek. Lucinda and Felina made things at school. They colored Santas and painted Christmas trees on cards.

  Soon the house was filled with wonderful smells of fruitcakes baking in the oven. Lucinda and Felina helped cut up fruit and crack nuts. They cut out dozens and dozens of tiny cookies shaped like trees and stars and bells.

  Grandfather took them both on his lap and told them the beautiful story of Christmas and the Christ Child.

  The whole family went out into the woods and gathered great boughs of evergreens. They gathered red berries to decorate the house. And they made a holly wreath to put on the front door.

  Right in the middle of the wreath was a bright red ribbon with a row of silver sleigh bells. It made a lovely jingle-bell sound when friends came to see the family.

  Oh, it was an exciting time! And with the happiness and the good food that she ate, Felina’s sharp little face began to fill out. She became plump and rosy and looked more and more like a normal little girl and less and less like a witch.

  But one day something happened to change everything.

  Lucinda had gone up the street for her piano lesson. Miss Gregg, the piano teacher, didn’t like Felina to come. She declared that the funny little hat made her so nervous that she skipped a note now and then.

  Mrs. Doon was busy in her sewing room. Mr. Doon was down at the newspaper office. And Grandfather Doon had gone to town on a very secret Christmas errand.

  So Felina and Itchabody were all alone. They had climbed up in the mulberry tree to think about Christmas.

  As they sat there dreaming, Clarence Brown, the big boy who lived next door, chanced to wander through the yard.

  Clarence was what is known as a troublemaker. He had pale hair about the color of leftover lemon custard. He had a mean look in his eyes.

  The neighbors all hoped that the Brown boy would outgrow his mean streak, but he hadn’t done so yet.

  It just happened, as he passed under Felina’s tree, that an old dry twig fell down. It struck him—just lightly—on the shoulder.

  He looked up into the tree and saw Felina and Itchabody. “Oh, it’s the little witch,” he cried. “What are you doing up there, little witch? Did you throw that stick at me?”

  “No,” said F
elina. She really hadn’t. “Itchabody knocked it down.” She started to say she was sorry but didn’t, because right then Clarence Brown began to say mean things.

  “You’re a wicked witch,” he taunted her. “Came out of the sky on a broom. You won’t get anything for Christmas!”

  “I will so,” said Felina. “All children get something for Christmas.”

  “That’s right,” said Clarence, “but witches never do. Didn’t you know that? Witches and bad children don’t get anything but whips and stones in their socks.”

  Then he began to sing, in a high, taunting voice:

  “A bunch of whips

  To make you moan;

  A bunch of stones

  To break your bones.”

  “That’s not so,” sobbed Felina. And she knocked another twig down—accidentally—and it hit him on the top of his lemon-colored head.

  “It is so,” he shouted. And he said it again, louder. Over and over again. “You’re a witch, you’re a witch, you’re a witch,” he added wickedly.

  The little witch began to shake. Itchabody was in her arms, and she held him too tight. He began to snarl and scratch.

  Then the cat made a sudden scramble and leaped from her arms, down out of the tree. He landed right on the top of Clarence’s head.

  The boy tore down the street, shrieking at the top of his lungs.

  Itchabody didn’t hurt Clarence, but he scared him badly. And the little witch screamed after him, “Serves you right, serves you right, serves you right!”

  Mrs. Doon heard the screaming and came running out of the house. “What is the matter, Felina?” she asked, looking up into the bare tree. “Come down and I’ll give you cookies and milk.”

  Felina wouldn’t move. She just sat there, glaring down. “Don’t want any milk,” she said. “Don’t want any cookies. I’m just a wicked witch, and I won’t eat people food.”

  Mrs. Doon was deeply troubled. She tried for a long time to coax Felina down out of the tree. But Felina wouldn’t budge, and she wouldn’t say what the trouble was.

  When Lucinda came home from her music lesson, she went out into the yard. “Please come down, Felina,” she pleaded. “We’ll play house. You can have Lucille today, if you like.”