The Runaway Spell Read Online Free PDF

teach? Sulphur — alchemy, perhaps? But
fleeciest
? How weird!
    On a counter that ran alongside the line of waiting witches, B saw pencil stubs and slips of paper scattered about, with letters scribbled and apparently reordered. Odd. Maybe the library patron witches got tired of waiting so they played word games to amuse themselves.
    The cloud floated back and dropped a book into the witch’s waiting hands. B was just able to glimpse the cover. The book was called:
Eel Soup for the Witch’s Soul.
    B was baffled.
    Mr. Bishop struggled not to laugh.
    The next witch advanced to the card catalog; he was about B’s age and looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. He opened a different drawer, and a cloud appeared with a different face inside. Instead of bifocals, this one wore a monocle and mustache. A much older librarian, B decided.
    “Soup in Flowerpot, please,” the witch said.
    The librarian removed his monocle and frowned. “We have no such volume in our collection.”
    The witch frowned and then realization came over his face. “I’m sorry. Scratch the ‘please.’ Just: ‘Soup in Flowerpot.’”
    “Ah.” The cloud whizzed off to another corner and returned carrying
Powerful Potions.
B was starting to get an idea. She saw witches casually working out their word puzzles on slips of paper, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. B thought about the book titles:
Soup in Flowerpot
brought down
Powerful Potions.
P, O, W, E, R … B started to see the letters individually.
    B grabbed a slip of paper and wrote both sets of words, one above the other. Her pencil flew as shecrossed out one letter at a time in each row. First the S. Then the O and U. Yep. They were all there.
    “That’s right,” Mr. Bishop said. “You’re getting it now.”
    “It’s an anagram!” B declared.
    “Shh,” Mr. Bishop said as heads all around them turned to stare.
    “It’s an anagram,” B repeated in a careful whisper. “A letter scramble.”
    “Bingo!” Mr. Bishop replied. “I knew you’d figure it out.” He consulted his watch. “It’s time for us to be heading back. Seeing my old friend Dirk didn’t help today’s session, but I’m glad you got to have a look around the library.”
    B didn’t want to go so quickly. She wanted to check out that
Undoing Magic Spells
book, but she couldn’t let on to Mr. Bishop how important it was and decided she would just have to get back as soon as she could.
    She followed her teacher over to an area where their traveling spell wouldn’t ruffle anyone’s papers.
    “Mr. Bishop,” B said before he began his couplet,“why on earth would they make you do anagrams to take books out?”
    “It was the dying wish of a quirky head librarian, almost a century ago,” Mr. Bishop said. “He thought book borrowers needed more incentive to appreciate the resources provided, so he wanted to make people work for the books they needed — and a way to keep the librarians’ brains active. After all, they have to solve each anagram correctly!”

Chapter 8
    “Morning!” George cried, sailing past B at the bus stop. He skidded to a halt, then swiveled and pranced back to where B stood. It was Costume Day for Spirit Week and B was dressed as a Halloween witch. George, B realized with a shock, wore a pair of red devil’s horns on his head, and his tail was poking out through a hole in his pants for all the school to see!
    “What are you doing?” she hissed as the bus rounded the corner. “I can see your tail!”
    “So can the world,” George said, smiling. “I’m a devil! Isn’t it great?”
    B frowned. “Sort of,” she said, “except that your tail twitches.”
    George waved this obstacle away. “Not much. I could say it’s battery-powered. I used charcoal dust to smudge it all dark, so no one would see the stripes. I tried to make it red, but the stripes still showed through.”
    “But, George,” B said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “if Mr. Bishop figures out