The Bag of Bones Read Online Free PDF Page B

her on toast for breakfast.” He yawned and gave a last look around. “Could be she’s slipped back to the orphanage after all. She has no more brain than a parsnip, so she could have gotten lost — but if she’s not there, I’ll be after her first thing tomorrow!” And he stormed away down the hill, the dogs gamboling happily at his heels.
    “Yoo-hoo! Truda!”
    The plaintive cry echoing faintly from the depths of the cauldron made Truda start. Slowly she walked toward the cauldron and peered in. The five witches were squashed together at the bottom, looking cross, disheveled and damp around the feet. Truda leaned on the metal rim and stared thoughtfully down at them. It had never occurred to her before that moment that the ability to shrink small and grow tall could be extremely useful. The singularly unexpected shrinking of the witches of Wadingburn could, perhaps, be turned to her advantage after all.
    “Now, listen,” she began. “I saved you from those dogs, so you owe me. Isn’t that right?”
    Insofar as they were able, the witches nodded, Mrs. Prag trying her best to avoid sticking her elbow in Evangeline’s eye.
    “Good,” Truda went on, “and don’t you go forgetting it. Like I said, I’ve got plans, and having a few little creatures to do a bit of spying could come in handy. You can go scuttling and creeping and listening, and that’s what I want. There’s things I need to know, and you can find out. What’s the old bag thinking? What’s she planning? What’s this Declaration? Has she found anyone to be queen after her?” She let out a high-pitched cackle. “It’s to be a Declaration Ball, you say. . . . Well, if I have my way, it’ll be to declare Truda Hangnail as Queen of Wadingburn!”
    Evangeline let out a tiny protesting squeak, and Truda glared at her.
    “Don’t you go trying to trick me! I’ll call that fool and his dogs if you do . . . or do you want to be a pip-squeak forever and ever?”
    There was a pause as the five witches paled beneath their whiskers.
    “So, you’ll be doing as I say.” Truda folded her arms.
    There was an immediate chorus of enthusiastic agreement from inside the cauldron.
    Truda nodded. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said, and she tipped the heavy metal pot onto its side.

    There was a flurrying and a scurrying as the contents disentangled themselves, and Evangeline Droop pulled herself to her total height of some ten inches. “As the Grand High Witch of Wadingburn, I’m taking it upon myself to speak for my fellow witches,” she announced. “I’d like —”
    “Speak for yourself, dearie,” Mrs. Cringe interrupted. “I’m sticking with Grandma. Seems to me that she’s the one who says what’s what just now, not you.”
    Evangeline bit her lip but did her best to continue. “We’ll do as Mrs. Hangnail asks, but in return I’d like a solemn oath that once she’s achieved her aims, she’ll leave us in peace.”
    “But she’ll be Queen of Wadingburn, ducky!” Mrs. Cringe gave Evangeline a triumphant leer. “So
you
won’t be needed, far as I can see. We’ll be dancing to
your
tune then, won’t we, Grandma? And if Grandma’s queen, that makes me a princess — so you’ll be lucky if I send you to fetch my shoes!”
    Truda looked down at her whiskery granddaughter. While approving her sentiments, she had noticed that Mrs. Prag, Mrs. Vibble, and Ms. Scurrilous had moved to stand close to their former leader, and division could be dangerous. She smiled coldly at Evangeline. “I’m sure there’ll be no need to be troubling you again,” she said, without meaning a word.
    “Can’t I stay with you, Grandma?” Mrs. Cringe put a hopeful hand on her relative’s boot. “They say that palace is infested with rats, and I never could abide their horrible, scaly tails. Let me stay with you! I’ll be no trouble.”
    Truda’s eyes flashed as she bent down. “Who’s going to keep an eye on that fancy Grand High Witch