House of Many Ways by Diana Wynne Jones Page B

hurrying through her breakfast, while Waif briskly cleaned up the dog dish at her feet, Charmain could not help grudgingly thinking that it was much nicer having the kitchen clean and tidy. I suppose Peter has his uses, she thought, pouring herself a last cup of coffee. But then she felt she ought to tap her wrist again. And she knew it was now six minutes to nine and jumped up in a panic.
    “How did I take so long ?” she said out loud, and raced back to her bedroom for her smart jacket.
    Perhaps because she was putting on the jacket as she ran, she somehow turned the wrong way through the door and found herself in a verypeculiar place. It was a long thin room with pipes running everywhere around it and, in the middle, a large, trickling tank, mystifyingly covered in blue fur.
    “Oh, bother !” Charmain said, and backed out through the door.
    She found herself back in the kitchen.
    “At least I know the way from here,” she said, diving through into the living room and running for the front door. Outside, she nearly tripped over a crock of milk which must have been meant for Rollo. “And he doesn’t deserve it!” she said, as she shut the front door with a slam.
    Down the front path she raced, between beheaded hydrangeas, and out through the gate, which shut with a clash behind her. Then she managed to slow down, because it was silly to try to run however many miles it was to the Royal Mansion, but she went down the road at a very brisk walk indeed, and she had just got to the first bend when the garden gate went clash again behind her. Charmain whirled round. Waif was running after her, pattering as fastas her little legs would take her. Charmain sighed and marched back toward her. Seeing her coming, Waif gamboled delightedly and made tiny squeaks of pleasure.
    “No, Waif,” Charmain said. “You can’t come. Go home.” She pointed sternly toward Great-Uncle William’s house. “Home!”
    Waif drooped both ears and sat up and begged.
    “No!” Charmain commanded, pointing again. “Go home!”
    Waif dropped to the ground and became a miserable white lump, with just the tip of her tail wagging.
    “Oh, honestly !” Charmain said. And since Waif seemed determined not to budge from the middle of the road, Charmain was forced to pick her up and rush back to Great-Uncle William’s house with her. “I can’t take you with me,” she explained breathlessly as they went. “I’ve got to see the King, and people just don’t take dogs to see the King.” She opened Great-Uncle William’s front gate and dumped Waif on the garden path. “There. Now, stay !”
    She shut the gate on Waif’s reproachful face and strode off down the road again. As she went, she tapped her wrist anxiously and said, “Time?” But she was outside Great-Uncle William’s grounds then and the spell did not work. All Charmain knew was that it was getting later. She broke into a trot.
    Behind her the gate clashed again. Charmain looked back to see Waif once more racing after her.
    Charmain groaned, whirled round, raced to meet Waif, scooped her up, and dumped her back inside the gate. “Now be a good dog and stay !” she panted, rushing off again.
    The gate clashed behind her, and Waif once more came pelting after her. “I shall scream!” Charmain said. She turned back and dumped Waif inside the gate for the third time. “ Stay there, you silly little dog!” This time she set off toward town at a run.
    Behind her, the gate clashed yet again. Tiny footsteps pattered in the road.
    Charmain whirled round and ran back toward Waif, crying out, “Oh, blast you, Waif! I shall be so late !” This time she picked Waif up and carried her toward the town, panting out, “All right. You win. I shall have to take you because I’ll be late if I don’t, but I don’t want you, Waif! Don’t you understand?”
    Waif was delighted. She squirmed upward and licked Charmain’s chin.
    “No, stop that,” Charmain said. “I’m not pleased. I hate