The Marvelous Magic of Miss Mabel Read Online Free PDF

sniffed when she first saw it and muttered that this was not at all what she had been expecting, although Daisy approved because there was less house to clean. And Nora had never been happier, planting her cuttingsand trimming back the roses before she had even unpacked.
    Mabel tried to make friends, but it wasn’t easy with Nanny Grimshaw. She wouldn’t allow Mabel to talk to the butcher’s boy when he came by with his meat deliveries, saying he smelled of pig blood, had dirty clothes, and didn’t pronounce his words correctly. And Mabel wasn’t permitted to ride along on the milk cart with Mr. Smith and his daughter, Mary, when they invited her, because (according to Nanny) Mary smelled of sour milk, didn’t brush her hair, or pronounce her words correctly either.
    â€œThose are not suitable friends for a properly brought up young lady,” Nanny Grimshaw had said. “Although I’m not surprised you would gravitate toward them,” she muttered under her breath, “knowing where you came from.”
    â€œI like them because they’re nice to me,” Mabel said, not understanding what Nanny Grimshaw meant.

    Most mornings, Mabel would work on her reading and writing, stuck away in the stuffy upstairs nursery. Her head ached as she tried to memorize the long, boring poems Nanny Grimshaw gave her to study. But the afternoons were even worse. Mabel would sit with her embroidery, pricking holes in her thumb as she listenedto the clock tick away the hours, dreaming of all the things she wasn’t allowed to do. Occasionally Nanny Grimshaw would nod off to sleep and then, if she were feeling daring, Mabel would creep over to the bookcase and read some of Dr. Ratcliff’s books, learning about astronomy and steam power and all sorts of fascinating discoveries. This was always risky though, because if Nanny Grimshaw woke up and discovered Mabel away from her embroidery, she was forced to sit for another hour.
    That whole first year in Potts Bottom, magic fizzed out of Mabel. Ladybugs turned purple when they landed on her arm, and sometimes, when she was eating, her fork would fly out of her hand and spin about the room. One day, staring at a picture of a Ferris wheel in the newspaper, Mabel got so excited, thinking of a huge wheel that spun around with people on board, her fingers started to tingle and the paper began to smoke. Luckily, Daisy managed to grab it out of Mabel’s hands and throw it through the window right before it burst into flames.
    By the time Mabel turned seven she finally stopped floating and her magic had begun to calm down. She was able to control it more now. Mabel discovered that by waving her fingers in circles she could stir up little winds, and if she rubbed leaves between her hands,they grew rubbery and soft. One day, catching sight of Mabel stretching leaves into different shapes, Nanny Grimshaw had grabbed her by the ear and barked, “You’re not supposed to be playing with your magic. Your mother won’t be pleased when I tell her.”
    â€œBetter wait till you start school,” Nora said gently, when she heard what Mabel had been up to. “Remember what Miss Brewer told us? Magic can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

    But once Mabel began at Ruthersfield, she found out rather quickly that most of their time was spent in magic hands class, or dance class, or practicing the correct way to hold a crystal ball. “Long, willowy necks, girls,” their fortune-telling teacher, Miss Regan, commanded, making Mabel feel like an overheated turtle as she stretched up her head, trying to remember to keep a straight back. Mabel’s hands always got so hot and sweaty, and she couldn’t flutter her fingertips in the graceful way that Miss Regan demonstrated.
    The girls were not allowed to experiment with their magic. At all. Something Mabel discovered during her first potions class. They had been