Octagon Magic Read online

  Again he looked around for a tool and caught a towel from a wall hook. With the towel wrapped around his already singed fingers, he brought the pans to the top of the stove before he snatched the red-and-white-checked cloth from a smaller table. He dumped into it the loaf of bread and the sheet of gingerbread, digging the latter out of its pan in great broken hunks. His head went up and he looked to the hall door. Jerking the cloth into a bag, he made for the window through which he had come, bundled out his loot first, and dropped after it into the night. The window slid down and Lorrie was alone.

  She listened. Whatever the boy must have heard, or thought he had heard, she could not. But she wanted to know more— Why had he come to steal food? That was somehow important. Though she crossed to the window she could see nothing. But the window slid up smoothly at her pull. Without stopping to think, Lorrie followed the boy, climbing up to drop to the ground behind a bush. Now she could hear crackling off to her right, around the next angle of the house. Holding up the long skirt of her riding habit, she followed as fast as she could.

  There was a brush screen close to the house as far as the next angle. Now she must be directly below that hidden, closed-in space, because before her was the window of the room with the painted floor. And from it came a beam of light. She saw a black shadow slip across it.

  Dark as it was, Lorrie discovered that she was able to follow the scurrying shadow as it flitted from one bush to another. Now it was heading for the fence. The bedroom windows were above, but there were no lights there. Lorrie glanced back and up at the house. On the second floor was a pale gleam in one window, as if a single candle was not too far away, but the rest was dark.

  There was a swaying of bushes and Lorrie saw a black figure climb over the fence. She began to run for the gate, but to climb in this long skirt was out of the question. She came to the mounting block. And for a moment she was daunted, for the white horse was gone. Then she heard a noise to her left, and, gathering up her skirt with both hands, keeping to the pools of the shadows, she moved to where the boy had gone over the fence.

  He was still keeping to cover. Then behind her she heard a faint creak and she stood still. Someone else was using the gate, a figure not much taller than she. Who?

  Lorrie was undecided. If she stayed where she was she would lose the boy. If she kept on with the unknown behind her—Lorrie did not like the idea of being followed. And that other moved as carefully among the shadows as she was doing, as if dreading discovery.

  She began to advance in a crabwise fashion, trying to watch both directions at once, which could not be done as she soon discovered. This was not Ash Street but a gravel road, bordered on both sides by trees and bushes. Shortly the gravel disappeared, leaving only hard-packed dirt.

  The one behind her made a sudden dart forward, which brought her level with Lorrie. For it was a girl, a girl who could not have been much older than Lorrie herself. She wore a long, hooded cloak, but the hood was pushed back far enough so Lorrie could see her face. The newcomer passed within hand's distance of Lorrie without looking, as if indeed Lorrie were not there. She ran lightly after the boy.

  Lorrie followed. There was a stream with a wooden bridge over it. But the girl from the house did not cross that. Instead she stood very still, her head ber to one side as if she were listening. Lorrie listene too—

  She could hear the very faint rippling of the water below. But there was another sound also—someone was crying. And someone else was talking, a murmur that rose and fell but never quite drowned out the crying. To Lorrie's surprise the girl turned her head and now her eyes looked directly into Lorrie's. She did not seem in the least amazed, but as if she had known all along that Lorrie was there. And also as if, Lorrie thought, they were sharing this adventure.

  Her finger was at her lips as she nodded sharply at the bridge from under which that crying came. Lorrie understood. She remained where she was, but the other girl crept forward very softly, drawing her cloak about her as if she did not want it to catch on any of the bushes or dried weeds.

  The sound of talking below stopped, but the crying, now a very weak whimper, continued. Then, so suddenly Lorrie cried out, a black shadow rose from the weeds and threw itself at the girl. There was a struggle and she fell, the shadow trying to hold her down. Only she pulled free, leaving her cloak half torn off. Her hair tumbled loosely about her face and she raised her hands to push it back.

  “Don't be afraid,” she said.

  “I ain't! Not of no girl, anyway.” It was a hoarse boy's voice that answered. “What you doin’, sneakin’ up on—”

  The girl gave her cloak a twitch, settling it smoothly about her shoulders again.

  “You are from Canal Town.” It was a statement, not a question this time.

  “We ain't nobody, missy. You gits yourself outta here afore you gits into trouble.”

  “Phin? Where are you, Phin?” The whimpering had become a wail, and in it was a fear so strong Lorrie shivered in sympathy.

  The boy moved, but the girl from the house was quicker. She slipped down the bank, under the overhang of the bridge. The boy scrambled after her, and now Lorrie dared go nearer.

  “I am Lotta Ashemeade.” That was the girl from the house, her voice calm. “You are afraid of something, bad afraid, aren't you?”

  “Matt.” There was a gulping sound. “Matt Mahoney. Dada died, and Matt, he says I must go to th’ poor farm—”

  “Close your trap, Phebe, close it tight! You want to be walked there straight off?”

  “Stop it!” Lotta ordered. “You want so scare her to death, boy? She doesn't have to be afraid of me. Phebe, there's no reason to be afraid. Nobody's going to find you.”

  “No?” The boy again. “An’ how kin you promise that, missy? You gotta army maybe to slow up Matt? Cause it'll take about that to stop him.”

  In answer the wail broke out louder than ever.

  “I said to stop it!” There was authority in Lotta's voice and the wail became a whimper. “Come on, Phebe.”

  “An'jus’ where're you thinkin’ of takin’ her, missy? Back to that big ol’ house of your'n? Keep her there an’ send for Matt. Or maybe, her bein’ an orphan, send her to th’ pore farm yourself?”

  “She's cold and she's wet and she's hungry. Oh, I know you got food, out of our kitchen, for her. But see how she's shivering and she hasn't even a shawl. If she stays here tonight she'll be sick before morning.”

  “So—she ain't stayin’.”

  “How far do you think you can take her now?”

  “What's it to you, anyhow? We're from Canal Town, we ain't big house folks. I'll do for Phebe, never no mind from you, missy. Come on, Phebe, we'll jus’ move on a bit.”

  “Phin, I can't. My foot hurts so. I jus’ can't! You—maybe you better run for it. Matt, he said he'd take th’ horse whip to you, ‘member? Oh, Phin, you jus’ cut along. Missy, Matt he wants Phin to work for him. Only Phin, he thought we might jus’ find some movers goin’ west and maybe hide in a wagon—or somethin’.”

  “Spill it all now, will you, girl? Anyway, I has nowheres to go without you, Phebe. I keeps my promises. Ain't I always?”

  “Then if you want Phebe to be safe, you'll come with me.”

  “An’ why, missy? Why would you care?”

  “I do.”

  She did, Lorrie knew that for the truth. Perhaps the boy recognized it also.

  “Please, Phin.”

  “All right. Maybe I believe her, but there's other folks in that there ol’ house an’ they maybe ain't feelin’ th’ same way. Specially as how I helped myself pretty free to some o’ their vittles a short while back.”

  “No one needs to know about you and Phebe. You'll be safe.”

  “What'd you mean, missy? You gonna fix us so no one kin see us, like we is ghosts or somethin’ like?”

  “Not that, Phin,” Lotta answered. “But I do know of a safe place, at least for tonight. And it is wanner and dryer than under this bridge.�
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  “Phin?” There was a pleading note in Phebe's voice.

  “It ain't safe, I tell you.”

  “Please, Phin. She says it is. An'—an’ I believe her, Phin.”

  “'Cause you want to!” he flared up. “'Cause you're cold an’ hungry an’ you want to! Ain't I told you a hundred times, it don't do no one any good to believe nothin’ ner nobody?”

  “I do her, Phin, somehow I do.”

  “All right. But I don't! You hear that, missy? I don't believe, an’ I'll be watchin’ for any tricks.”

  “Fair enough. Now help me, Phin.”

  They came down the road again, Lotta, with her arm around a much smaller girl wearing a torn dress and with feet as bare as Phin's. She limped along slowly, though Phin and Lotta supported her more and more as they reached the gate. Again they made the journey around the house. This time they did not go as far as the kitchen, but instead to the window of the doll-house room.

  Lorrie heard them whispering together and then saw Phin push at the window. When he had it open he helped Lotta over the sill, and a moment later they had boosted Phebe through. Lorrie moved in closer. She could see them all inside. Phebe was squatting on the floor as if she did not have the strength to stand, and Phin was staring about him warily, a scowl on his face, as if he believed he was in a trap.

  Lotta had gone to the side by the window, out of Lorrie's sight. Then Phin exclaimed aloud in surprise.

  “What's that there? A cupboard?”

  “Bigger than a cupboard,” Lotta answered him. “It's a safe hiding place for now.”

  He strode forward, also to disappear from Lorrie's sight.

  “A trap—maybe jus’ a trap—” She could still hear his voice.

  “Please.” Phebe raised her head to look as Lotta. “I don't believe it, I don't believe you is goin’ to send us back, missy. We ain't no kin to Matt. Jus’ like Phin's no real kinfolk to me neither. Only he stood up to Matt when I got coughin’ sick an’ the shakes. An’ Matt, he beat up Phin ‘cause he traded some corn for medicine. Then Matt says he'd see I go to the pore farm. An’ Phin says never, no to that an’ we'd run. But we ain't far away and Matt he'll be after Phin does he stay here.” She coughed, her thin body shaking with the effort.

  Phin stepped back where Lorrie could see him again. “You ain't got th’ little sense you was borned with, Phebe. Little missy here, she ain't a-carin’ ‘bout all that. Maybe Matt's got a poster out on me—Phineas McLean—ten shillin's reward—or th’ like, but that ain't sayin’ as how he'll ever lay his belt on me agin. ‘Less missy here talks.”

  Lotta was at the door of the room. “If you truly believe that, Phineas McLean, you can go. The window's open.” She gave him a long look and Phin made a gesture to push away his overgrown forelock but did not answer her. Then Lotta went out.

  “Phin,” Phebe choked out between coughs. “Phin, you'se always bin powerful good t’ me. If you think Matt'll git you, you'd better go. Only I don't believe it—I don't. I think she's tellin’ it true, we'll be safe here. I feel good, real good, right here. I truly, truly do, Phin!”

  Once more he pushed back his hair, then he dropped on his knees beside Phebe and threw his arm about her shoulders.

  “I ain't goin’, girl. Leastwise, not tonight.”

  “Phin, don't you feel it, too? That this be a safe place?”

  He was looking around, a rather puzzled expression on his bruised face.

  “Maybe you is right, Phebe. Only it's right hard to believe in any place bein’ safe for the likes of us—Canal Town trash, as they is always so quick to sing out.”

  “This is.” Lotta was back. Across her arm was a quilt and a thick blanket. She nodded to the portion of the room Lor-rie could not see. “Take these. And you had better get in there for now. I'll come when it is safe. And here—” Phin had taken the coverings from her, now Lotta picked up the tablecloth bag Lorrie had watched him fill. “Take this with you, I'll bring more later.”

  Wind was rising in the trees, the light in the room winked out.... Sunlight lay in a bar across the floor and in it lay Sabina asleep. Lorrie was not crouched down outside the window but she sat on the floor beside the doll house. Once more the side of the house hung a little open. She drew it the rest of the way to look into that small space with no proper door. It was empty.

  In the kitchen the two dolls stood just as she had posed them. Carefully she took them out, knowing now who they were. Phineas McLean, no longer dirty, ragged, bruised— but she supposed that a doll would not look that way. His clothes were neat and whole, maybe this was meant to be Phineas truly safe and happy.

  And Lotta—but no, this other doll did not have Lotta's features. This was Phebe, plumper, much happier looking. So maybe the house had welcomed them and continued to be their home. Why she thought that, Lorrie did not know.

  She laid them back in their drawer and closed it. There was a click. The key on the chain—it was gone! When she tried the door again it was locked.

  Phineas and Phebe were gone and the house— Now that she looked again Lorrie saw that the side of the house was once more tightly closed. Though she searched carefully for the latch, she could not find it.

  Sabina awoke, yawned, got to her feet, stretched first front legs and then hind legs, and trotted to the door. More slowly Lorrie followed her, looking back once more at the baffling doll house.

  A Collar for Sabina

  Hey Canuck—”

  Lorrie had paused at the mouth of the alley to take a tighter grip on the dress box. It was hard to manage that and her book bag too. Aunt Margaret had wanted to drive her to school this morning, but the car would not start. And Lorrie would have to hurry if she was going to get there in time.

  It was just her luck that Jimmy and his gang were also late. Of course, maybe she could take refuge in the yard of Octagon House. She was somehow sure Jimmy would not follow her there. But such a detour would make her really tardy.

  “Canuck, walks like a duck!”

  Lorrie held the box tighter. It had her Puritan dress in it, and she had sewed a lot of that herself. Aunt Margaret had been surprised at how well she could do it. And Lorrie had pressed it and folded it neatly. She must not let it get wrinkled now.

  “Canuck—”

  Lorrie stared ahead. She was not going to run and let them chase her all the way so school. Boys—mean old boys!

  She glanced to the house on her right. If only Hallie would come down to the back gate now. But every window was blank; it might have been deserted. Only—just looking at it—

  What had Phin said? “Canal trash as they is so quick to sing out.” Lorrie did not know why that flashed into her mind now. But for a moment it was almost as if she could see Phineas McLean pushing back his hair to glare at Lotta Ashemeade. She could hear Lotta's calm voice, see her refused-to-be frightened face when she answered him. Why, just a moment ago Lorrie had been ready to run to the house for safety herself.

  “Canuck—What've you got in your box, Canuck? Give us a look.”

  Lorrie swung around.

  Jimmy, yes, and Stan, and Rob Lockner. Jimmy in the lead as always, and grinning. For a moment Lorrie was afraid, so afraid that she thought she could not talk past the dryness in her mouth and throat. Then she thought of Lotta and Phineas, and Phebe who had so much worse to fear.

  “My dress for the play.” Lorrie hoped her voice did not shake as much as she thought it did. “Where's your Indian suit, Jimmy? You certainly got a lot of feathers for your headband.”

  “He sure did,” Rob Lockner broke in. “Know what he did? His uncle knows a man down at the zoo, and the birds there, they lose feathers. So he got real eagle feathers, didn't you, Jimmy?”

  “Sure. That's what Indians wore, eagle feathers.” Jimmy answered, but he was looking at Lorrie oddly, as if before his eyes she had turned into something quite different.

  “The zoo.” Lorrie did not have to pretend interest now. “I've never been there.”


  “Me, I go ‘bout every Sunday,” Jimmy returned. “My uncle, he got me a chance to see the baby tiger last year. They keep the baby animals in a different place, see, and you have to look at them through a window. But if you know somebody there they'll let you. This year they got a black leopard cub and two lions. I haven't seen them yet, but I'm going to.” Jimmy's teasing grin was gone, he was talking eagerly. “They're just like kittens.”

  Kittens! For a moment Lorrie had a fleeting memory of Jimmy hunting Sabina through the tangled grass. She gripped her box more firmly and made herself walk at an even pace. Jimmy fell into step with her.

  “You ought to see the snakes,” he continued. “They got one as long as this alley.”

  “Aw, it's not that big,” protested Stan.

  Jimmy turned on him. “You say I don't know what I'm talking about?”

  Stan shrugged and was quiet. But Jimmy continued, “And the alligator, you ought to see him! I had a chance to have an alligator once. My uncle was in Florida and he was going to send me one, a baby one. Only Mom said we didn't have any place to keep it.”

  “Boy, you know what I'd like to have?” Rob broke in. “A horse, that's what. Gee, I'd like to have one just like they used to keep in that stable over there.”

  “Hey, you know what's still in there?” Stan pointed back to the tumble-down carriage house. “There's a sled, only it's for horses to pull. Neat, eh? Be fun to ride like that.”

  “It is,” Lorrie agreed.

  “How do you know?” Jimmy demanded.

  “It used to snow a lot in Hampstead and there was a sleigh at school. We had sleigh rides sometimes.”

  “That true? A real sleigh with horses?” Jimmy sounded skeptical.

  “Yes. It was old but they kept it fixed up and people used to rent it sometimes for parties. You'd ride out in it to the lake to go skating.”

  “Ice skating?” asked Rob. “You ice skate, Lorrie?”