Читать книгу ElsBeth and the Privateer, Book II in the Cape Cod Witch Series - J Bean Palmer - Страница 5

When ElsBeth got home that evening, her grandmother was unusually quiet. Normally the plump older witch would bound out of the garden, give ElsBeth a big hug, and ask all about her day at school.

Instead, Hannah Goodspell barely noticed her granddaughter.

ElsBeth turned to Sylvanas, the magical cat. “What’s up with Grandmother?”

Sylvanas didn’t answer. He just looked back with his nose in the air, as if to say, “It is far beneath ME to pry.” Which was a little ironic, as Sylvanas was probably the nosiest creature in the whole town, even perhaps all of the Cape and Islands. He really was an impossible busybody.

ElsBeth, however, soon forgot her own concerns and the annoying Sylvanas when her grandmother cast the same spell three times in a row and nothing happened.

ElsBeth realized something was really wrong. Hannah was one of the most respected witches in Massachusetts, and Massachusetts' witches were the most respected witches in all the New World. If Hannah was this disturbed it must be serious.

Was it more than just the business with the fairies? They certainly could stir up more trouble than a truckload of two-year-olds — devious, devilish two-year-olds at that.

ElsBeth decided she had to ask Bartholomew if he knew anything. Sylvanas clearly wasn’t going to be a help.

She found Bartholomew in the back of the garden. The extraordinarily big, bright green frog, formerly a handsome but incredibly vain Native American prince, could almost always be found relaxing in the garden.

And he could almost always be counted on to listen to ElsBeth’s difficulties. ElsBeth didn’t really have many difficulties. But when she had them, she could count on Bartholomew for sound advice.

She sat down in the minty medicinal herb section by the lemony plants. Bartholomew was at eye level, comfortably settled on his ornately carved garden stool.

He turned his glimmery golden eyes to the young witch. “Don’t worry, ElsBeth,” he croaked.

“Your grandmother is just a little anxious. Er … there have been some new goings-on with the fairies. You just can’t predict what they will get into next.”

ElsBeth thought there really must be more to it than this. There had been problems with the fairies since Halloween, when the little creatures had stirred things up at the pirate’s cave.

But trouble with them was nothing new, just one of those things a witch had to deal with on a daily basis.

ElsBeth tried to question Bartholomew further, but the frog just wouldn’t say more. He simply sat serenely, humming a pleasant Beatles tune while dusk settled quietly over the garden.

ElsBeth couldn’t help thinking there was more to her grandmother’s odd behavior than Bartholomew was letting on. She could sense there was something else just beneath the surface. But she couldn’t for the life of her tell what was happening.

She made up her mind. She really would have to talk with Sylvanas. And get him to answer. Right after dessert!

That morning, Grandmother had said they might have maple custard at supper. And with the thought of this tempting treat, all else, for now, was instantly forgotten.

ElsBeth jumped up, gave Bartholomew a quick hug, and went in to help with the meal.

As she stepped onto the porch, the heavenly scent of fairy cupcakes seeped into her senses. Double-double chocolate chip fairy-cream cupcakes were her all time favorite! Even better than maple custard! The little witch skipped inside.