“Meoooooow!” he whined.
He must have known that that was the end of the little witch.
12
Halloween and Happy Birthday
It seems a little sad, but perhaps it is a good thing—when Felina lost her witch’s hat, she also lost her magic. Her bad magic, that is.
She went to school like all normal little girls. She learned many things. She learned to read well, and to write, and she started to pick out tunes on the piano. So Mr. Doon had her take piano lessons, along with Lucinda.
Miss Gregg didn’t mind having Felina come, now that she wasn’t wearing the “eerie” witch’s hat. In fact, she thought Felina was quite talented, and said she had “magic” in her fingers, which was really quite a joke.
Now, Felina didn’t change into a perfect little angel. She still got into mischief once in a while. Sometimes she was cross, and sometimes she refused to eat her spinach. But usually she was a very dear little girl, and the Doon family loved her more and more.
They took her everywhere they went. On picnics and to the zoo, to the museums and to the movies. The happy days sped by. The weeks sped by. The months sped by.
A whole year passed. It was Halloween once more. And Halloween was a very special day for Felina. For two reasons, you may remember. First, it was the anniversary of the time when the little witch appeared at Lucinda’s window.
And second—it was her birthday!
Mrs. Doon planned a surprise party for Felina. And Grandfather Doon flew out from New Haven early that year, so he would be there for the occasion. After all, it had been his birthday, and he thought that he did deserve a piece of cake.
All of the children in the neighborhood were invited. They came in costume. There were ghosts and goblins and clowns and pirates.
Lucinda was a pirate with a patch over one eye. Felina was a clown in a polka-dot suit and a white mask.
They had pumpkins and balloons and played Pin the Rib on the Skeleton. Mr. Doon did magic tricks out of a book and made everyone laugh.
Then Grandfather Doon popped in, dressed like a huge gray spook, carrying a basket of birthday gifts for Felina. And just then Mrs. Doon came from the kitchen with a big cake with white icing and orange-colored candles. There were eight candles—and one to grow on.
“Happy birthday, Felina,” sang everyone. “Happy birthday, dear Felina.”
Felina’s eyes gleamed through her mask as she puffed out the candles and made her wish.
She didn’t tell a soul what her wish was, of course, because that would have spoiled the spell. But on the very last page of this book it may come true.
Then Grandfather Doon lifted up his spook mask and demanded his piece of cake. Felina laughed and gave him the biggest piece of all.
After the party, all of the children—that is, all of the ghosts and goblins and clowns and pirates—went around the neighborhood, playing Trick or Treat.
As Felina and Lucinda ran up the block, Mr. Doon stood on the porch, with a smile on his face.
Suddenly, a big gust of wind blew out of the sky. A mysterious black cloud crossed over the moon. Looking up, Mr. Doon was quite sure he saw an old witch riding through the sky on her broom.
“Come, Felina,” a voice in the wind seemed to be saying. “Come, little witch, and jump on my broom. Come, come, little witch.”
Mr. Doon shook his fist at the black-clad figure. “No witch lives in this house, old woman,” he said. “Just two little girls.”
The moaning voice died out of the sky.
The next day Mr. Doon came home early from the newspaper office.
“We have an appointment with the judge,” he said to the family. “We have to renew our permit to keep Felina—if we want her to be our little girl, that is.”
“Oh, we do,” cried Lucinda.
So all of the Doons, including Grandfather, put on their very best clothes and polished their shoes and went to the courthouse.
The same old judge looked down from his bench and stared at Felina.
Her hair was smoothly combed and she was standing very politely, looking up at him.
“Ahem,” said the old judge, “this can’t be the same little witch who stood before me last year.”
“No, your honor,” said Mr. Doon. “That was a little lost witch, but this is a little girl. We have learned to love her very dearly and we want to adopt her.”
“Well, well,” said the judge, peering through his bifocal glasses at his papers. “It seems nobody has claimed her, and it is not likely that anyone is going to. I suppose you want a permanent permit this time.”
“Indeed we do,” said Mrs. Doon.
The judge began to write on a form. “And how old are you, little girl?” he asked.
“I’m eight years old,” said Felina. “And my birthday is October thirty-first. And it’s really mine, because my Grandfather Doon gave it to me.”
“I certainly did,” said Grandfather Doon. “Signed, sealed, and delivered, that’s what it is.” He took Felina’s hand in his and held it tightly.
“And what is your name?” asked the judge.
“My name is Felina,” the little girl said politely. “But oh, please, sir,” she added, “may I change it? I do like cats, but I don’t want to be named after one.”
“Well, what do you want to be called?”
“May I please be named Mary—?”
“Why, that’s my name,” said Mrs. Doon, very much pleased.
“Lucinda—” went on Felina.
“And that’s my name,” cried that little girl happily.
“George,” added Felina firmly.
“And that’s my name,” said Mr. Doon in surprise.
“Very well,” said the judge. “That will be your new name.” He wrote it carefully on the form in front of him. “Mary Lucinda George—permanently adopted by the Doon family.”
He signed the paper with a flourish and handed it to Mr. Doon. “There will be no charge this time,” he remarked.
“Thank you, your honor,” said George Doon. “Thank you very much.”
Then Grandfather was rounding them all up and pushing them toward the door. “This is a great day for the Doons,” he declared. “It calls for a real celebration. We’ll go to the restaurant and have the finest dinner in town.”
As the proud little family left the courtroom, the old judge took one last curious look at Felina—oh, no—at Mary Lucinda George, the wicked little witch who had been changed into a happy child.
He shook his gray head in wonder. “It must be magic,” he muttered. “Pure magic.”
Florence Laughlin is the author of several books for children, including The Seventh Cousin.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 1960 by Florence Laughlin
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Laughlin, Florence.
The little leftover witch / Florence Laughlin. — 1st pbk. ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Stranded for a year on the ground, after a crash landing from her broom, a little witch is taken in by the Doon family, a situation which causes compromises on both sides, many happy times, and ultimately a big change for the little witch.
ISBN 978-1-4424-8677-5 (hardcover) — ISBN 978-1-4424-8672-0 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-1-4424-8678-2 (eBook)
[1. Witches—Fiction. 2. Foster home care—Fiction. 3. Family life—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.L3703Li 2013
[Fic]—dc23
2012040276
The Little Leftover Witch Page 5
