Lavender-Green Magic Read Free Page A

anymore.”
    Mrs. Pigot was nodding again. “That’s the truth—tongues will wagwag over nothing at all. They used to take a spite at some poor old soul as lived alone an’ maybe had a cat to talk to. Then they’d call her witch an’ make a mite of nasty trouble for her. Don’t you fret none, honey, there ain’t no witches at Dimsdale, only a lot of interestin’ things, an’ you’re gonna like it right fine—”
    As if her last words were a summons, the door of the store opened. Once more wind and rain came in with such force they seemed to propel with them a small man wearing a water-slicked raincoat and boots such as those which stood on the other side of the store.
    He had a big yellow sou’wester hat, like those Holly knew fishermen wore, tied down on his head with a piece of cloth as if it were far too big and would be otherwise ripped away by the wind. And he fumbled with the knotting of this until he could pull it off and face them.
    â€œFather Wade!” Mom was up, moving to meet him.
    Daddy was a big, tall man, but Grandpa was hardly Mom’s height. He was smiling, showing gaps in his teeth, but his voice was very deep as he answered, “Pearl, now ain’t you jus’ as pretty as yore name. Mercy has yore picture right up on the wall, but you is twice as pretty!”
    He seemed surprised when Mom kissed his cheek. Then he caught her arms near her shoulders and brought her closer to him in a kind of half hug, as if he were afraid he might hurt her if he squeezed her too tight.
    â€œAn’ th’ young’uns.” He swung about to see them, still keeping hold of Mom as if he were afraid she might disappear. “Does my eyes good to see you, it certainly do!”
    â€œGrandpa!” Judy had made up her mind at once. She ran toward him as she would have greeted Dad, her arms outstretched, and he caught her in a big hug. But he shook hands with Crockett, as if he knew very well that hugging was for girls and women, and with men it was different. Holly approached more reluctantly.
    This small man, wearing a patched sweater and overalls under his old coat, he—well, she could not greet him as wholeheartedly as Judy did. He was still a stranger. But she kissed his cheek as Mom had done, and when he hugged her she did not resist. Though her nose wrinkled at the queer smell of his coat, and she felt more apart than ever from what had always been warm and secure.
    There was a small truck waiting outside. Mom and Judy could crowd into its cab with Grandpa. But Holly and Crockett had to go in the back, pulling a piece of stained canvas over them. Holly looked out gloomily at the window lightsof the store as they bumped away from what now seemed like the last outpost of civilization.
    â€œWhere do you suppose we’ll live?” she asked Crock. “Mrs. Pigot said the house burned down—”
    â€œThere must have been another one,” her brother returned carelessly. “Or else Grandpa built a new one. He’s been living there, and Grandma. Dad was born there—”
    â€œIn a junkyard!” Holly exploded. “We’re going to live in an old, dirty junkyard. Crock, I don’t believe it! Mom couldn’t have known about that—she won’t let us—she won’t let us stay—not there!”
    â€œWait until you see it.” Crockett apparently was not as concerned, but then boys didn’t seem to worry so much about such things.
    â€œWe’ll have to go to school here,” she reminded him. “You want people knowing you live in a junkyard?”
    â€œBut Mrs. Pigot says the town kids like to come out to Dimsdale. They think it’s fun.”
    â€œMaybe it would be,” though Holly had doubts concerning that also, “if you didn’t have to live in the middle of it. Mom just has to take us out of here—she’s got to—” Her voice was