folks say so. You never can tell what a loony person will do.”
The two of them were now standing directly opposite the Goodale house.
“It is sort of sinister looking,” said Allison musingly, letting her imagination take hold.
Norman, who had never been afraid of the Goodale house before, now felt his fear spark on the edge of Allison's words. He was no longer looking at a rather small and run down Cape Cod, but at a closed-looking house whose windows stared back at him like half-lidded eyes. Norman began to tremble.
“Yes,” repeated Allison, “it has a definite sinister look.”
“Let's run,” suggested Norman, forgetting his mother, the enema, everything, for Miss Hester's house looked suddenly to him as if it were about to sprout arms, ready to engulf children and sweep them through the front door of the brown shingled cottage.
Allison pretended not to hear him. “What does she do in there all day, all by herself?”
“How do I know?” asked Norman. “Cleans house and cooks and takes care of her cat, I suppose. Let's run, Allison.”
“Not if she's loony,” said Allison. “She wouldn't be doing plain, everyday things like that if she's loony. Maybe she stands over her stove cutting up snakes and frogs into a big black kettle.”
“What for?” asked Norman in a shaking voice.
“To make witch's brew, silly,” said Allison crossly. “Witch's brew,” she repeated in a weird tone, “to put curses and enchantments on people.”
“That's foolish,” said Norman, striving to control his voice.
“How do you know?” demanded Allison. “Did you ever ask anybody?”
“Of course not. What a question to ask!”
“Don't you visit Mr. and Mrs. Card next door to Miss Hester's a lot? I thought you said Mrs. Card was going to give you a kitten when her cat has some.”
“I do and she is,” said Norman. “But I'd certainly never ask Mrs. Card what Miss Hester does. Mrs. Card's not nosy like some people I know. Besides, how would she be able to see anything? That big hedge between the two houses would keep everybody from seeing into Miss Hester's house.”
“Maybe she hears things,” said Allison in a whisper. “Witches chant something when they stir up a brew. Let's go visit Mrs. Card and ask her if she ever hears anything spooky coming from Miss Hester's.”
“Here she comes!” exclaimed Norman and tried to hide himself behind Allison.
Miss Hester Goodale came out of her front door, turned carefully to make sure that it was locked behind her, and walked out her front gate. She wore a black coat and hat of a style fashionable fifty years earlier, and she led a huge tomcat along on a rope leash. The cat walked sedately, neither twisting nor turning in any effort to escape the length of clothesline which was tied on one end to a collar around his neck, and wound several times around Miss Hester's hand at the other end.
“What's the matter with you, Norman?” asked Allison impatiently as soon as Miss Hester was out of sight. “She's just a harmless old woman.”
“She's not either. She's loony. I even heard Jared Clarke say so. He told my mother.”
“Phooey,” said Allison disdainfully. “If I lived on this street like you, I'd sneak around and find out what Miss Hester does when she's alone. That's the real way to find out if people are loony, or witches, or something like that.”
“I'd be scared,” admitted Norman without hesitation. “I'd be scareder to do that than I would be to go up to Samuel Peyton's castle.”
“Well, I wouldn't. There's nothing spooky about Miss Hester Goodale. The castle's full of spooks, though. It's haunted.”
“At least there's nobody loony living in the castle.”
“Not any more,” said Allison.
They had arrived at Norman's house and were standing on the sidewalk in front of it when Evelyn Page came to the front door.
“For Heaven's sake, Norman,” called Mrs. Page. “Don't stand out there in the cold. Do you want to get sick? Come
The two of them were now standing directly opposite the Goodale house.
“It is sort of sinister looking,” said Allison musingly, letting her imagination take hold.
Norman, who had never been afraid of the Goodale house before, now felt his fear spark on the edge of Allison's words. He was no longer looking at a rather small and run down Cape Cod, but at a closed-looking house whose windows stared back at him like half-lidded eyes. Norman began to tremble.
“Yes,” repeated Allison, “it has a definite sinister look.”
“Let's run,” suggested Norman, forgetting his mother, the enema, everything, for Miss Hester's house looked suddenly to him as if it were about to sprout arms, ready to engulf children and sweep them through the front door of the brown shingled cottage.
Allison pretended not to hear him. “What does she do in there all day, all by herself?”
“How do I know?” asked Norman. “Cleans house and cooks and takes care of her cat, I suppose. Let's run, Allison.”
“Not if she's loony,” said Allison. “She wouldn't be doing plain, everyday things like that if she's loony. Maybe she stands over her stove cutting up snakes and frogs into a big black kettle.”
“What for?” asked Norman in a shaking voice.
“To make witch's brew, silly,” said Allison crossly. “Witch's brew,” she repeated in a weird tone, “to put curses and enchantments on people.”
“That's foolish,” said Norman, striving to control his voice.
“How do you know?” demanded Allison. “Did you ever ask anybody?”
“Of course not. What a question to ask!”
“Don't you visit Mr. and Mrs. Card next door to Miss Hester's a lot? I thought you said Mrs. Card was going to give you a kitten when her cat has some.”
“I do and she is,” said Norman. “But I'd certainly never ask Mrs. Card what Miss Hester does. Mrs. Card's not nosy like some people I know. Besides, how would she be able to see anything? That big hedge between the two houses would keep everybody from seeing into Miss Hester's house.”
“Maybe she hears things,” said Allison in a whisper. “Witches chant something when they stir up a brew. Let's go visit Mrs. Card and ask her if she ever hears anything spooky coming from Miss Hester's.”
“Here she comes!” exclaimed Norman and tried to hide himself behind Allison.
Miss Hester Goodale came out of her front door, turned carefully to make sure that it was locked behind her, and walked out her front gate. She wore a black coat and hat of a style fashionable fifty years earlier, and she led a huge tomcat along on a rope leash. The cat walked sedately, neither twisting nor turning in any effort to escape the length of clothesline which was tied on one end to a collar around his neck, and wound several times around Miss Hester's hand at the other end.
“What's the matter with you, Norman?” asked Allison impatiently as soon as Miss Hester was out of sight. “She's just a harmless old woman.”
“She's not either. She's loony. I even heard Jared Clarke say so. He told my mother.”
“Phooey,” said Allison disdainfully. “If I lived on this street like you, I'd sneak around and find out what Miss Hester does when she's alone. That's the real way to find out if people are loony, or witches, or something like that.”
“I'd be scared,” admitted Norman without hesitation. “I'd be scareder to do that than I would be to go up to Samuel Peyton's castle.”
“Well, I wouldn't. There's nothing spooky about Miss Hester Goodale. The castle's full of spooks, though. It's haunted.”
“At least there's nobody loony living in the castle.”
“Not any more,” said Allison.
They had arrived at Norman's house and were standing on the sidewalk in front of it when Evelyn Page came to the front door.
“For Heaven's sake, Norman,” called Mrs. Page. “Don't stand out there in the cold. Do you want to get sick? Come
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