The Marvelous Magic of Miss Mabel (19 page)

Well, she would be extremely careful and start with one of the gentler winds. Then once she had the correct strength down, she could figure out how to make the spell blow for a twenty-minute cycle. That should be enough time to dry most clothes, and if you had heavy blankets on your line, you could simply let another cycle out of the bottle. Mabel pushed her glasses up her nose. Perhaps each bottle could hold ten drying cycles?

Scrambling off the grass, she ran to the back door and poked her head into the kitchen. Lightning was asleep on the windowsill, and the sweet smell of sugar and strawberries announced that Daisy was making jam. She stood at the stove, stirring a long wooden
spoon around the big copper pot, a cloud of sweet steam scenting the room.

“Is it all right if I experiment with those sheets on the line, Daisy? I need to test out the strength of my drying spell.”

“So long as you don't get them dirty,” Daisy said. “They're the good linen ones from your mother's bed. It took me an age to wash them and put them through the mangle.”

“Thanks.” Mabel raced off before Daisy changed her mind.

She decided to start with a number five wind. Her strongest sample was a ten and her weakest a number one, so five seemed like a good place to start. Taking one of the bottles from her satchel, Mabel pulled out the cork. Immediately a blast of warm wind shot out, tugging the sheets right off the line. “Oh, not good,” Mabel gasped, trying to grab at them. But the wind was far too strong. The laundry tumbled and swirled through the air, catching in the branches of the apple tree. Before Daisy could discover what had happened, Mabel snuck her broomstick out of the house, swung her leg over, and flew up into the tree. Hovering like Miss Reed had taught them, she gently untangled the sheets, praying that Daisy was too busy making jam to look through the window. With her heart racing,
Mabel carried the damp bundle of laundry back down. Quickly, she hung them up again and tried with a number four wind. This one was still too strong. The sheets blew off the line and landed in Daisy's vegetable patch. Hanging them up for a second time, Mabel couldn't help noticing that the snowy white linen was now streaked and smudged with dirt. Well, she would worry about that problem later, Mabel decided, opening a number three. This time she was thrilled to see the clothes puffing on the line as the warm wind blew around them.

“Perfect,” Mabel sighed in satisfaction, taking off her glasses and polishing them on her pinafore. The world immediately went fuzzy, and she squinted at the blurry shape marching out the kitchen door.

“What have you been doing?” Daisy shouted. “Those sheets are a disgrace.”

“I'm so sorry, Daisy, I really am.” Bravely slipping her glasses back on, Mabel saw the full horror on Daisy's face. “But I've made great progress with my invention.”

“At the expense of my sheets,” Daisy fumed. “Science might be about getting your hands dirty, but not my sheets. Now, do you know any washing spells?”

“I'm afraid I don't,” Mabel admitted.

“Then we will just have to do it the old-fashioned
way. Unpeg those linens and bring them through to the kitchen, please.”

Even though Mabel had to spend the next hour scrubbing sheets and rolling them through the mangle to squeeze the water out, she really didn't mind because her invention was coming along nicely. A warm wind, combined with rose essence and a timing spell, and Mabel was starting to believe she might actually have discovered a way to dry clothes from a bottle.

T
HAT NIGHT MABEL DREAMED SHE
was living in the orphanage. Instead of ladling out stew, she stood in line with the other children, holding up her bowl to be filled. When she awoke, Mabel was shivering with cold, her covers slumped in a heap on the floor. For a few moments she lay still, watching the pale dawn light creep through the window, relieved it had only been a dream. The clock on the bureau ticked softly, and her breathing began to slow down. She could smell the sweet, buttery scent of Daisy's breakfast scones baking and feel the warm weight of Lightning, curled up by her feet. Nora was asleep
next door, and a deep sense of peace washed over Mabel. Climbing out of bed, she went straight to her mother's room.

Nora smiled up at her sleepily. “It's so early, Mabel. What's the matter?”

“I've been thinking,” Mabel said. “We could fit at least five more beds in my room, Mama. Ruby shares with five of her sisters, and I wouldn't mind sharing one bit. It'd be cozy.”

Nora smothered a yawn. “And who are you planning on sharing with?”

“I was hoping we could adopt some of the orphan children from the village,” Mabel said, staring intently at her mother. She could hear a bird chirping outside. “I'd help Daisy with the extra laundry and cooking and things.”

“Oh, Mabel.” Nora was silent for a long moment. “That is such a sweet idea, but it would never work. It just isn't practical.”

“We could try and make it work. Please, Mama, think about it. Talk to Daisy. You took me in.”

Nora reached out and touched Mabel's cheek. “I will think about it, I promise. But sometimes you just have to let life be.” She sighed. “You can't fix everything, Mabel.”

“I can try,” Mabel said, her voice quivering. “And I'm
going to ask Miss Brewer if we can visit the orphanage every week. Once a month isn't nearly enough.”

But when Mabel proposed her idea, Miss Brewer refused to even consider it.

“You girls are here to study the magical arts,” she snapped. “Which is what you should be focusing on.”

A lot of the girls at school had given up on their inventions. “It's too hard,” Diana Mansfield sighed in cookery class one day. The girls had just finished learning how to make a surprise cake, which, when you cut into it, sent little sugar doves flying out. The doves sang the national anthem, and it was a favorite parlor game for guests to try to catch the doves and eat them. Winifred's doves had stuck to the inside of the cake, so when she cut into it, there was just a sad chirping, but no little birds flew out. Mabel's, on the other hand, sent a great show of doves swooping around the cookery room.

“My father says women's brains aren't designed to invent things,” Diana said, catching one of Mabel's doves and popping it into her mouth. “That's for the men to do.”

“Well, now, I certainly don't agree with that,” Miss Seymour said rather crisply. She was wearing a badge pinned to her cloak with “SOFTW” written
across it, which all the girls now knew stood for the Society of Forward-Thinking Witches. Mabel had seen Miss Brewer glaring at the badge in morning assembly, wrinkling up her nose as if it was giving off an unpleasant smell, and Mabel got the feeling that she didn't approve. “Women shouldn't be stopped from doing something they are perfectly capable of, just because they are women,” Miss Seymour said. “Remember what Angelina Tate told us, girls: ‘Dare to push boundaries and fly against the wind.' ” Her gaze swept around the classroom. “I do hope some of you will be entering the competition.”

Mabel noticed that Winifred was staring at her, and her eyes looked suspiciously puffy, as if she'd been crying again. Even though she was the most insufferable person Mabel had ever met, she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Winifred, especially if her father was expecting her to come up with an amazing invention.

“How is your invention coming along?” Mabel asked Ruby as they washed up their cake pans.

“Oh, not good,” Ruby sighed. “I'm working on an everlasting candle, but it keeps burning out. I put in oil of unicorn, which is used in the everlasting love potion, so that should keep it burning, but”—Ruby shrugged—“I just don't know what I'm doing wrong.”

“Try
doubling the amount of unicorn oil,” Mabel suggested. “Wax is thick, so you might need more oil to balance the spell out.”

“Now, why didn't I think of that?” Ruby said, smiling. “And what's happening with your wind spell?” she whispered.

“I'm going to test it one last time tonight,” Mabel said, “so I'll be ready.”

Miss Brewer had spoken to the whole school that morning, announcing that not only would members from SOFTW be present for the competition, but the Ruthersfield board of governors would also be in attendance, along with the Potts Bottom mayor and a number of other local dignitaries. “This will be a big day for our school,” Miss Brewer had said. “A big day in our history, and I expect every one of you girls to behave in a fitting manner.”

Mabel had spent hours perfecting her invention, mixing a number three wind with a teaspoon of crushed dragonfly wings (for a fluttering motion), rabbit breath for softness, rose essence for fragrance, and some ground shell of a ninety-seven-year-old tortoise for stability. To get the timing right she had mixed the spell for exactly twenty minutes and poured the whole thing back into the bottle. It was now sitting on her bureau along with the rest of the wind samples, which
Mabel planned to hand over to Miss Mantel as soon as she could. The potions teacher had been out sick with a summer cold the past few days, so Mabel had drawn little stars on the number ten label, as a warning to herself to handle with extreme care.

As soon as school was over, Mabel flew straight home. Trying to keep her broomstick level was harder than ever since Lightning had put on weight, due to all the stolen kippers he'd been eating. After a currant bun and a glass of milk, Mabel rounded up Nora and Daisy and ushered them into the garden for her big demonstration.

“Now, what you are about to see will amaze and delight you,” Mabel said, copying the way the Melton Bay street performers sounded. She waved her hands at the wet laundry hanging on the clothesline. “Imagine this, ladies. You have a fancy party to go to but your favorite bloomers are still wet.”

“Oh, my, what a disaster,” Daisy gasped, covering her mouth and making Mabel start to giggle. Nora frowned slightly, in disapproval of the word “bloomers,” Mabel guessed, but she could see her mother biting her lip to stop herself from smiling.

“Well, all you need is some of this,” Mabel said, uncorking the little bottle. A swirl of wind gusted out, tinted
pale pink and smelling powerfully of Royal Duchess roses. Mabel shoved the cork back in the bottle, and for the next twenty minutes (timed to the second by Nora's locket watch), they watched the breeze gently blow the clothes on the line back and forth.

“It is warm,” Nora said. “I can feel it against my face. I'm so proud of you, Mabel.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Mabel smiled, a lump swelling in her throat. Would her shadow mother have been proud too, knowing that Mabel was magic?

“Slightly salty,” Daisy commented. “But that won't affect the clothes,” she reassured Mabel. “A sea breeze does wonders for laundry.”

When the twenty minutes were up, the pink breeze evaporated away, leaving Nora's dress and undergarments warm, dry, and scented with roses.

Daisy just kept shaking her head in wonder. “I'm not going to dread wash day anymore,” she said. “Honestly, Miss Mabel, I'm in shock, I really am. No more wet clothes dripping all over the floor on rainy Wednesdays.”

“I hope the committee likes it,” Mabel said, giving a nervous hop. “Do you think I should wear my trousers tomorrow, since some women from the Society of Forward-Thinking Witches will be there? Maybe they would be interested to see how much easier it is to fly
a broomstick without petticoats.” Mabel continued. “Perhaps I could enter my trousers as a second invention?”

“I wouldn't push too hard, Mabel dear; one boundary at a time,” Nora said.

The last thing Mabel wanted was to upset Miss Brewer. But since her mother and Daisy both seemed to be in good moods, Mabel brought up the subject of the orphans.

“Oh, Mabel, I really don't think it can happen,” Nora sighed. “We are just not equipped to take in a houseful of children.”