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DMCA and Copyright : Dear all, most of the website is community built, users are uploading hundred of books everyday, which makes really hard for us to identify copyrighted material, please contact us if you want any material removed. Nostrum never got paid, except by the letters, Cat thought this was rather dishonest of Mrs. Sharp told him crossly. Sharp was probably right. He was a little sorry for her, for she had certainly been kind, and he knew by now that she was not a very good witch herself.
The Certified Witch which the notice in Mrs. People only came to Mrs. Sharp for charms when they could not afford the three Accredited Witches farther down the street. Sharp eked out her earnings by acting as an agent for Mr. Larkins at 11 the junk shop. She got him Exotic Supplies—that is to say, the stranger ingredients needed for spells— from as far away as London. She was very proud of her contacts in London.
Cat suspected she was, anyway. And he was sorry for Mrs. He was sure that Gwendolen would cast her off like an old coat when she became famous—like Mrs. Sharp, Cat had no doubt that Gwendolen would be famous. Sharp was warmly grateful. As a reward, she arranged for Cat to have real music lessons. She believed in killing two birds with one stone. Cat started to learn the violin.
He thought he was making good progress. He practiced diligently. He never could understand why the new people living upstairs always banged on the floor when he started to play. Sharp, being tone-deaf herself, nodded and smiled while he played, and encouraged him greatly. He was practicing away one evening when 12 Gwendolen stormed in and shrieked a spell in his face. Cat found, to his dismay, that he was holding a large striped cat by the tail.
He had its head tucked under his chin, and he was sawing at its back with the violin bow. He dropped it hurriedly. Even so, it bit him under the chin and scratched him painfully. The cat stood in an arch, glaring at him. Here, pussy, pussy! It scratched the hand she held out to it. Gwendolen smacked it. Stop it! Sharp was very impressed with this display of talent from Gwendolen. She climbed on a chair in the yard and told Mr.
Nostrum about it over the wall. From there, the story spread to every witch and necromancer in the neighborhood. That neighborhood was full of witches. People in the same trade like to cluster together. If Cat came out of Mrs.
If he turned left, he passed MR. The air in the street, and for several streets around, was heavy with the scent of magic being done. All these people took a great and friendly interest in Gwendolen. The story of the cat impressed them enormously. They made a great pet of the creature—naturally, it was called Fiddle. Though it remained bad-tempered, captious, and unfriendly, it never went short of food. They made an even greater pet of Gwendolen. Larkins gave her presents.
The various witches were always looking out simple spells for her. Gwendolen was very scornful of these spells. Sharp, who was glad of any aid to witchcraft, usually gathered the spell up carefully and hid it. But once or twice, Cat found the odd spell lying about.
Then he could not resist trying it. He always hoped that he was a late developer and that, someday, a spell would work for him. But they never did—not even the one for turning brass buttons to gold, which Cat particularly fancied. The various fortune-tellers gave Gwendolen presents too. She got an old crystal ball from the 14 Diviner and a pack of cards from the Soothsayer. The Fortune-Teller told her fortune for her. Gwendolen came in golden and exultant from that.
He said I could rule the world if I go the right way about it! Though Cat had no doubt that Gwendolen would be famous, he could not see how she could rule the world, and he said so. Nostrum has lots of ideas for me, for a start. Mind you, there are some snags. The next day, Miss Larkins the Clairvoyant called Cat into her house and offered to tell his fortune too. She was young and pretty and fiercely red-headed. She wore the red hair piled into a bun on top of her head, from which red tendrils of hair escaped and tangled becomingly with earrings like hoops for parrots to sit on.
She was a very talented clairvoyant and, until the story of the cat became known, Miss Larkins had been the pet of the neighborhood. Cat remembered that even his mother had given Miss Larkins presents. Cat knew Miss Larkins was offering to tell his fortune out of jealousy of Gwendolen.
Cat squirmed. I just want to know. Cat shut his eyes hastily. He squirmed harder than ever. He might have got loose, had not Miss Larkins abruptly gone off into some kind of trance. Cat found himself being gripped with a strength that would have surprised him even in the Willing Warlock.
He opened his eyes to find Miss Larkins staring blankly at him. Her body shook, creaking her corsets like old doors swinging in the wind. But Miss Larkins did not appear to hear. Cat took hold of the fingers gripping his shoulders, and tried to prise them loose. He could not move them. Miss Larkins opened her mouth, and quite a different voice came out. It sounded pleased. You must take more care.
By this time, Cat was so frightened that he dared not move. He could only wait until Miss Larkins came to herself, yawned, 17 and let go of him in order to cover her mouth elegantly with one hand. What did I say? All he wanted to do was to run away. He dashed for the door. Miss Larkins pursued him, seized his arms again, and shook him. Tell me! Her corsets sounded like bending planks.
She was terrifying. What did he say? He thought he would never forget it if he lived to ninety. It was some consolation to find that Miss Larkins was quite as puzzled by it as he was. She also seemed disappointed. Nothing about your sister? As soon as both her hands were safely occupied in pinning her bun, Cat ran. He shot out into the street, feeling very shaken.
And he was caught by two more people almost at once. Nostrum, advancing down the pavement. He tried to smile. It was not that he disliked Mr. It was just that Mr. Nostrum always talked in this jocular way and called him Young Chant every few words, which made it very difficult to talk to Mr. Nostrum in return. Nostrum was small and plumpish, with two wings of grizzled hair. He had a cast in his left eye too, which always stared out sideways.
Cat found that added to the difficulty of talking to Mr. Was he looking and listening? Or was his mind elsewhere with that wandering eye? William Nostrum came to visit his brother regularly. Cat saw him almost once a month. He was quite a well-to-do wizard, with a practice in Eastbourne. Sharp claimed that Mr. Henry Nostrum sponged on his wealthier brother, both for money and for spells that worked.
Whatever the truth of that, Cat found Mr. William 19 Nostrum even harder to talk to than his brother. He was half as large again as Mr. Henry and always wore morning dress with a huge silver watch-chain across his tubby waistcoat. Otherwise, he was the image of Mr. Henry Nostrum, except that both his eyes were out of true. Cat always wondered how Mr. William saw anything. William in a deep, gloomy voice, as if the opposite was true. Henry Nostrum glanced up at him apologetically.
My brother is upset. We can find out nothing. It seems Gwendolen knows nothing. Do you, Young Chant, perchance know why your esteemed and lamented father should be acquainted with—with, let us call him, the August Personage who signed them? Henry Nostrum. Nostrum, his odd eye traveling away, while his brother managed to stare gloomily at the pavement and the rooftops at once. William said. She was called Chant too.
Nostrum, swirling an eye at his brother. William agreed. Cat wanted to get away. He felt he had taken enough strange questions to last till Christmas. Henry Nostrum violently. William in alarm. Cat was afraid he might be going off into a trance, like Miss Larkins. William cried out. And, with great triumph, he lifted the silver watch-chain off his middle and shook it. It was rather a nuisance, since that was the long way around to where most of his friends lived, but anything was better 21 than meeting Miss Larkins or the Nostrums again.
It was almost enough to make Cat wish that school had started. When Cat came home that evening, Gwendolen was just back from her lesson with Mr. She had her usual glowing, exulting look, but she was looking secretive and important too. Anyway, I just have. Nostrum told me what to write.
They were the lovely golden days that happen 22 when August is passing into September. Cat and his friends went out along the river.
On the second day, they found a wall and climbed it. There was an orchard beyond, and here they were lucky enough to discover a tree loaded with sweet white apples— the kind that ripen early. They filled their pockets and then their hats. Then a furious gardener chased them with a rake. They ran. Cat was very happy as he carried his full, knobby hat home. Sharp loved apples. He just hoped she would not reward him by making gingerbread men. As a rule, gingerbread men were fun.
They leaped up off the plate and ran when you tried to eat them, so that when you finally caught them you felt quite justified in eating them. It was a fair fight, and some got away. But Mrs. They simply lay, feebly waving their arms, and Cat never had the heart to eat them. Sharp was not there. Instead, standing in the middle of the kitchen, was a tall and quite extraordinarily well-dressed man.
Cat stared at him in some dismay. He was clearly a rich new Town Councillor. Nobody but those kind of people wore trousers with such pearly 23 stripes, or coats of such beautiful velvet, or carried tall hats as shiny as their boots. It was smooth as his hat. And he should not have been in the kitchen at all. Visitors were always taken straight to the parlor.
Will you come this way, sir? The Dark Stranger gave him a wondering look. And well he might, Cat thought, looking around distractedly. The kitchen was in its usual mess. The range was all ash. On the table, Cat saw, to his further dismay, Mrs. Sharp had been making gingerbread men. The ingredients for the spell lay on one end of the table—all grubby newspaper packets and seedy little jars—and the gingerbread itself was strewn over the middle of the table.
At the far end, the flies were gathering around the meat for lunch, which looked nearly as messy as the spell. What have you got in your hat? His pleasure returned. He thought it was very joyless, even for a Town Councillor, to 24 point it out.
But I bet you did it when you were my age. He was looking more and more austere and pitying. Cat suspected that he thought Mrs. This was a real crisis. He put his hat of apples down in the middle of the spell, which he very much hoped would ruin it. Cat was beginning to want to shake him. And Mrs. Sharp said you were.
She said Mr. Nostrum would give his eyes just for your three letters. Nostrum given his eyes for my letters? For his eyes? How uncomfortable! Fortunately, there were thumping footsteps just then, and Gwendolen burst in through the kitchen door, panting, golden and jubilant.
Would you be Gwendolen? She was followed by Mrs.
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