sides, then came to a point at the top.
“Here’s the best part!” said Lobelia. “You lasses are going to model this uniform tomorrow at the Toenail Fashion Show!”
Janice laughed and twirled around. But Erica stood frowning with her puffy-sleeved arms folded across her chest.
“We are lucky to be lads!” Wiglaf whispered.
Angus nodded. “That uniform makes Janice look like a great big plum pudding.”
“Excuse me, Lady Lobelia?” Erica said. “How can we sneak up on a dragon while wearing bells ?” She took a step and clinked merrily.
“Don’t they make a lovely tinkle?” Lobelia said, missing Erica’s point entirely.
“One more thing,” Lobelia said in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “Your headmaster is a happy man today. And we don’t want to spoil his good mood. So when you see Mordred, whatever you do, do not mention what day it is.”
“What day is it?” asked Janice.
Lobelia whispered, “Friday the 13th.”
“Friday the 13th?” cried Torblad, who was afraid of everything. “Egad! Unlucky day!”
“Shhhhhh!” Lobelia put a finger to her lips. “Do not say that aloud! If Mordred hears you…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “We shall all be very, very sorry.”
Chapter 2
“ T his is so not fair,” said Erica. “This uniform is ridiculous!” She took off her pointy helmet and tossed it to the ground.
“Angus?” said Janice. “Why can’t your uncle Mordred know it’s Friday the 13th?”
Angus shrugged. “Auntie Lobelia always keeps it a secret from him. That’s all I know.”
“Maybe he is superstitious, like my father,” said Wiglaf. “If my father hears a dog howl in the night, he stays in bed all the next day. He never takes a bath, for he says bathing causes madness. And he often rings a bell to drive away demons.”
“Does that work?” asked Torblad eagerly.
“It must,” said Wiglaf. “For no demon has ever come to our hovel.”
“Fiddle-faddle,” said Erica. “I do not believe in superstitions.”
Just then—TWEEEEEEEEET! The headmaster’s whistle tooted.
Wiglaf turned to see Mordred standing on the castle steps. He was decked out like a king—in a purple cape trimmed in gold braid. His gold rings sparkled in the morning sun.
Lobelia stood beside her brother, holding a large scroll. Wiglaf had signed his name on that scroll. Every DSA student had.
“Good morning, all!” boomed Mordred.
“Good morning, Headmaster!” the Class I lads and lasses sang out.
“What a good plan, letting lasses into DSA!” Mordred exclaimed. “I cannot wait to sign them up. More students—more tuition!” He grinned, and his gold tooth gleamed. “Why, this day shall go down in history!” He frowned. “What day is it, anyway?”
Torblad called out, “It’s Friday the—”
Angus quickly elbowed him.
“Ow!” cried Torblad.
“It is the feast day of St. Helga’s Handkerchief,” Erica called out.
“Also the feast day of St. Albert’s Anklebone!” called Wiglaf.
“Here comes your chair, Mordie,” Lobelia said quickly to distract her brother. “Where do you want it?”
“In the shade there.” Mordred waved a gold-ringed hand toward the castle wall.
Two student teachers struggled down the steps with the heavy, throne-like chair.
The headmaster turned back to Class I. TWEEEEEEEEET! He blew his whistle. “To the gatehouse, laggards!” he bellowed. “Stand by to welcome the new lasses!”
Wiglaf and his friends started off. On the way to the gatehouse, they met Brother Dave, the DSA librarian, coming from the South Tower. He wore his brown monk’s robe, tied round the middle with a length of rope. Today he had a basket over one arm.
“Good morn to thee, lads and lasses,” Brother Dave said. He was ever cheerful, though it was not easy being the librarian at DSA, where only three of the students and none of the teachers had ever read a whole book. Those three students lingered behind as their classmates went on to
“Here’s the best part!” said Lobelia. “You lasses are going to model this uniform tomorrow at the Toenail Fashion Show!”
Janice laughed and twirled around. But Erica stood frowning with her puffy-sleeved arms folded across her chest.
“We are lucky to be lads!” Wiglaf whispered.
Angus nodded. “That uniform makes Janice look like a great big plum pudding.”
“Excuse me, Lady Lobelia?” Erica said. “How can we sneak up on a dragon while wearing bells ?” She took a step and clinked merrily.
“Don’t they make a lovely tinkle?” Lobelia said, missing Erica’s point entirely.
“One more thing,” Lobelia said in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “Your headmaster is a happy man today. And we don’t want to spoil his good mood. So when you see Mordred, whatever you do, do not mention what day it is.”
“What day is it?” asked Janice.
Lobelia whispered, “Friday the 13th.”
“Friday the 13th?” cried Torblad, who was afraid of everything. “Egad! Unlucky day!”
“Shhhhhh!” Lobelia put a finger to her lips. “Do not say that aloud! If Mordred hears you…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “We shall all be very, very sorry.”
Chapter 2
“ T his is so not fair,” said Erica. “This uniform is ridiculous!” She took off her pointy helmet and tossed it to the ground.
“Angus?” said Janice. “Why can’t your uncle Mordred know it’s Friday the 13th?”
Angus shrugged. “Auntie Lobelia always keeps it a secret from him. That’s all I know.”
“Maybe he is superstitious, like my father,” said Wiglaf. “If my father hears a dog howl in the night, he stays in bed all the next day. He never takes a bath, for he says bathing causes madness. And he often rings a bell to drive away demons.”
“Does that work?” asked Torblad eagerly.
“It must,” said Wiglaf. “For no demon has ever come to our hovel.”
“Fiddle-faddle,” said Erica. “I do not believe in superstitions.”
Just then—TWEEEEEEEEET! The headmaster’s whistle tooted.
Wiglaf turned to see Mordred standing on the castle steps. He was decked out like a king—in a purple cape trimmed in gold braid. His gold rings sparkled in the morning sun.
Lobelia stood beside her brother, holding a large scroll. Wiglaf had signed his name on that scroll. Every DSA student had.
“Good morning, all!” boomed Mordred.
“Good morning, Headmaster!” the Class I lads and lasses sang out.
“What a good plan, letting lasses into DSA!” Mordred exclaimed. “I cannot wait to sign them up. More students—more tuition!” He grinned, and his gold tooth gleamed. “Why, this day shall go down in history!” He frowned. “What day is it, anyway?”
Torblad called out, “It’s Friday the—”
Angus quickly elbowed him.
“Ow!” cried Torblad.
“It is the feast day of St. Helga’s Handkerchief,” Erica called out.
“Also the feast day of St. Albert’s Anklebone!” called Wiglaf.
“Here comes your chair, Mordie,” Lobelia said quickly to distract her brother. “Where do you want it?”
“In the shade there.” Mordred waved a gold-ringed hand toward the castle wall.
Two student teachers struggled down the steps with the heavy, throne-like chair.
The headmaster turned back to Class I. TWEEEEEEEEET! He blew his whistle. “To the gatehouse, laggards!” he bellowed. “Stand by to welcome the new lasses!”
Wiglaf and his friends started off. On the way to the gatehouse, they met Brother Dave, the DSA librarian, coming from the South Tower. He wore his brown monk’s robe, tied round the middle with a length of rope. Today he had a basket over one arm.
“Good morn to thee, lads and lasses,” Brother Dave said. He was ever cheerful, though it was not easy being the librarian at DSA, where only three of the students and none of the teachers had ever read a whole book. Those three students lingered behind as their classmates went on to
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