Magic Elizabeth: Chapter thirteen
¦ CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A summer garden
The story so far: Once again Sally seems to have traveled through the attic mirror into the past and become the other Sally from long ago.
“You can sit here under the parasol with me, Patience,” Sally said, and a very little girl in a pinafore, who looked a little like Emily – except that she wore long corkscrew curls rather than braids – moved over and sat next to her.
The air over the garden was perfectly still. The bright flowers stood as motionless as the seashells that lined the graveled paths winding about the garden. From time to time an apple tree sang with the voices of the birds hidden among its leaves. On a blanket near the two girls, in the shade of a tree, Bub lay sleeping on his side. Mrs. Niminy Piminy snoozed sedately beneath a gooseberry bush. Her children were now too big to be called kittens. The gray one and the orange one slept nearby, heads tucked into their curled paws. But Tom purred in Elizabeth’s lap, where she sat propped up against an apple tree. For of course, he was her cat.
Sally sighed. She wished that she didn’t have to entertain this shy little girl and take care of Bub besides. But her mother had asked her to, so here she was, feeling hot and uncomfortable.
She looked at Elizabeth sitting beneath the tree, cool and unruffled while Tom purred in her lap. Elizabeth smiled serenely back at her, as if she understood everything in the world.
“Then make a breeze come, please, Elizabeth,” Sally said aloud.
Patience looked sideways at her, without moving.
A small yellow butterfly seemed to spring from Elizabeth’s bonnet. It sat on the brim, its tissue-paper wings throbbing. A fluttering bouquet of blue and yellow butterflies settled on a seashell near Elizabeth’s feet.
Now, as if the arrival of the butterflies had been a signal, a pink flower dipped its head. A ripple ran over a bed of nasturtiums. A delphinium swayed. The whole garden woke up. Apple trees shook birds from their branches. Wind whispered in the empty seashells. Sally felt the coolness of the breeze on her hand and then on her cheek. Patience wiggled her toes. Now the lilac bushes enclosing the garden stirred, and beyond them ripple after ripple ran over the surrounding fields. The blowing foxtails and grass seemed to be hurrying toward the distant hills.
Sally bobbed her head at Elizabeth. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” she said.
The little doll smiled serenely back at her.
Patience spoke for the first time. “Is she magic?” Her eyes were very round.
“I don’t know,” said Sally. “Would you like to play tea party?” Patience nodded. She was staring at Elizabeth.
Sally picked up the little china teapot and poured sugar water into one of the tiny cups.
“Thank you,” Patience whispered.
The cup clinked against its saucer, and there came an answering clink from the back porch, where the mothers of the two girls sat drinking real tea. The far-off murmur of their voices blended pleasantly with the drowsy buzzing of the garden.
“Oh, I’ve dropped the cup!” cried Patience, jumping to her feet. For she had spilled the sugar-water tea all over her pink pinafore. “And it’s broken!” The cup lay upon its side, its handle shattered.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Sally with an effort, for she dearly loved the little set. “My papa can surely fix it.”
Just then, Elizabeth fell over with a soft plop. One of the doll’s cotton hands seemed to be pointing toward Tom, who was crouched, his ears flat against his head, the tip of his tail twitching. He looked just ready to spring upon a very tiny toad. It was blinking rapidly, and its throat was bulging in and out and out and in.
“Scat, Tom!” cried Sally, clapping her hands sharply. The cat jumped, gave her a baleful look, and slunk away into the gooseberry bushes.
But the toad still sat there, looking frozen with fear. Then, with one last convulsive movement of its throat, it jumped. Up, up, it went, and down-right into Sally’s cup of tea. Sally and Patience hugged each other, rocking with laughter. Bub woke up, blinked his eyes, and began to laugh, too.
When she and Patience had wiped their eyes at last, Sally picked Elizabeth up and straightened her bonnet. “Elizabeth saved that toad’s life,” she said. “Tom was just going to get it when she fell over. It looked just as if she was pointing at Tom to show me.”
“Maybe she is magic,” breathed Patience, looking with deep respect at Elizabeth.
“Maybe,” said Sally, feeling very proud of her pretty doll.
But Elizabeth just went on smiling her usual sunny smile.
Tom came padding back and warily placed his head upon Elizabeth’s lap.
“Naughty Tom,” Sally scolded. “But I guess you can’t help it. You’re just a cat.”
Sally and Patience spent the rest of the afternoon quite pleasantly. When Bub began to cry, they made hollyhock dolls with twigs for arms and danced them about to amuse him. Meantime, the shadows were growing longer, till at last they could scarcely see each other. The footsteps of Sally’s and Patience’s mothers crunched on the path.
“Time to go home,” said Patience’s mother.
“Time to go in,” said Sally’s mother, and she picked Bub up and kissed his fat warm neck.
Then, “Tom!” cried Sally.
“Oh, for goodness sake!” said her mother. “That cat!”
Tom’s pointed face loomed from underneath a gooseberry bush. He had Elizabeth in his mouth. Her bonnet was all askew and her face, looking pathetically helpless, hung upside down.
“Put her down, Tom!” Sally ordered, making a threatening dart at him.
Tom flicked a cross green glance at Sally, dropped the doll, and began to nibble at his paws.
Sally straightened Elizabeth’s bonnet and adjusted her dress. “Honestly,” she said, “I think he really believes she belongs to him! Naughty Tom!”
Tom blinked and mewed sleepily.
The white glimmer of the seashells led them along the path.
Sally, hugging Elizabeth, followed the others into the house.
NEXT WEEK: A shout of surprise