The Man Who Was Magic by Paul Gallico Page A

he thought was in it, he replied, “Something quite nasty, like cold lamb and what must be a very old sardine.”
    As they rounded a corner near the bottom of the town, they ran into Ninian, almost knocking him over, for the tall magician was loping along the street with his head down, and the usual worried expression on his face.
    “Hello, Ninian,” Adam said, “where are you going? We’re off on a picnic. Why don’t you come along?”
    “A picnic!” Ninian cried, and for an instant his sad eyes lit up. “I simply adore picnics, and I hardly ever get the chance to go on one.” But then the light faded from his countenance. “But I can’t. I’ve had a note from Malvolio asking me to drop by at some sort of meeting they’re holding at noon. I do hope they won’t be asking me about—well, you know—” and his hands formed themselves into the position of holding an imaginary bird cage.
    “That’s easy,” Mopsy said. “Don’t go. Come with us instead.”
    “Mopsy’s got the right idea,” Adam said. “Skip it and join us.”
    Jane tugged at his sleeve and as he leaned down to her, she put her lips to his ear and whispered, “There isn’t enough, Adam. I saw Mummy make up the lunch. There are only two cold lamb sandwiches, a sardine each, one hard-boiled egg and a couple of wormy old apples.”
    It was true. Mrs. Robert had quite a mean streak in her and wasn’t going to waste another good meal upon the stranger.
    “Never mind,” Adam replied, “we’ll share what we have. What about it Ninian?”
    Ninian hesitated only a moment longer. “It isn’t often I’m invited to go on a picnic . . .”
    “Well then, that’s settled,” said Adam and taking his friend’s arm, turned him around and off they went, the four of them.
    The old doorkeeper opened the great, bronze gates to let them out and was delighted to hear that both Adam and Ninian had passed their tests and would be taking part in the finals that night. Thereupon they descended the winding pathway to the valley below and set out along the country road to their destination.
    It was bright, warm and sunny and thus even with the poor meal provided and the knowledge of what she was expected to do, Jane was able to cheer up somewhat and skip ahead with Ninian, while Adam and Mopsy brought up the rear. It certainly was a fine day for an outing.
    For a while Adam marched along silently, swinging his oak staff, his eyes fixed upon the basket in Jane’s hand.
    Mopsy asked, “Are you doing the lunch?”
    “Yes. Don’t disturb me, I’m concentrating.”
    “Chicken for me, please,” Mopsy ordered, “and some ‘Sweetiepups,’ if you could manage.”
    “Coming up,” said Adam. “You’ve been a good dog.”
    Soon Jane led them off from the road onto a footpath that climbed a rise through some woods, to emerge on a small clearing at the top of a hill looking down upon a pleasant and thriving farm. A wooden fence ran along the left side of the plateau, past clumps of thick shrubbery.
    “This is where Daddy said was the best place,” Jane declared and then turned away quickly, so that they could not see her face, to guess how utterly miserable she was at having to play the traitor.
    “Splendid!” said Adam. “What a lovely view.”
    It was, too. The old, whitewashed farmhouse had a thatched roof and the stone barns and outbuildings had weathered many centuries. There were horses poking their heads from several of the stalls in the stables below; sheep in a pasture with their fluffy, wobbly legged, young lambs stumbling about; cows in a green field on the opposite hillside and a flourishing kitchen garden. At one end of the farmyard was a pigsty with a number of pigs rolling happily in the mud, or scratching themselves against the sharp corners of the boards. At the other was a pond fed by the brook that came out of the woods not far from the hill. Ducks and ducklings, geese and goslings sailed upon it like ships in line, leaving a trail