“I wish we could offer you some refreshments, Miss Switch,” Guinevere said finally “I mean, something besides guinea pig feed and birdseed.”
“Why, that sounds delicious,” Miss Switch said without even blinking. “But I’ve stayed much longer than I should, and Rupert and I must be on our way.”
As the pets all knew the importance of what Miss Switch and I had to do, there was no arguing with this. “Good-byes” had to be said. I waved to them as I climbed through the window after Miss Switch. As soon as I was settled on the broomstick, we took off, heading straight for Pepperdine.
I have to tell you there’s nothing in the world like this mode of transportation. It was as great as I remembered it. And, of course, I’d never flown to school before. I couldn’t help wondering when we arrived at the Pepperdine playground what Peat-mouse, Banana, and Creampuff would have thought if they’d been sitting on the monkey bars and seen me zooming overhead on a broomstick toward the Room Twelve window. At any rate, we climbed through and made our way to the computer room. Bathsheba was sitting there waiting for us.
“The coast is still clear, but you were gone long enough. What kept you?” Bathsheba growled.
“I went in for a few minutes to meet Rupert’s pets,” Miss Switch replied. “For your information, Bathsheba, they all have exquisite manners. You could learn something from them.”
“Introduce me!” said Bathsheba, coolly flicking at her whiskers.
“Yes, and watch you pick bird feathers out of your teeth for a week!” said Miss Switch. “Now, let’s get on with this, Rupert. Who’s going to do the honors?”
“Carry on, Miss Switch,” I said.
She did, and then we just sat there staring at the screen together as Saturna’s new message appeared. It was very long. It was no wonder Mr. Dorking and Miss Tuna had to sit there half the night waiting for her to compose it.
“Oh, gnawing rats
And stinging gnats,
Oh, brimstone boil
And poisons roil,
Oh, witch’s brain
Sunk down the drain,
To trust the school
To such a fool.
How all was hung On twisted tongue
I can but guess,
But nonetheless
I can guess well
How came the spell.
But one mistake
Is all you’ll make,
Or what you’ll get
You won’t forget.
But not too late
To seal their fate,
No you know who
To spoil the stew,
But I want clear
They disappear.
My shrinking trick
Is what will stick.
You have the stuff
But just enough
To work one spell,
So do it well.
The field trip fling
Is just the thing,
And, oh, what joy
To get that boy.
Revenge at last,
Oh, what a blast!”
“Boy, you sure were right about the twisted tongue thing, Miss Switch,” I said.
“There was never any doubt about it, Rupert,” she replied. “But that’s been and gone. What we have to think about is what’s to come. Saturna seems to have given Neptuna and Grodork the ingredients for the shrinking bewitchment, her specialty. I suspect they were to use it to begin with, but he got giddy with his own powers and we know what happened with that. As for the field trip, I have no doubt that refers to our visit to the museum tomorrow.”
“I knew it sounded fishy,” I said, “coming up all of a sudden like that. But this time around, Miss Switch, we don’t just know where and when, we know what. I sure don’t like the sound of shrinking. You can have all your anti-bewitchment stuff ready, can’t you?”
“Of course I can!” snapped Miss Switch. “However, Rupert, I must tell you we may know where, when, and what, but there is still one big problem. We don’t know how. Her shrinking bewitchment requires a medium. It could be anything, and a trip to the museum doesn’t suggest a single one to me.”
“Maybe they’ll serve us grape punch when we get there?” I suggested hopefully.
Miss Switch’s response to this was a glassy-green stare with a couple of sparks thrown in for good measure. “No, Rupert,” she said at last. “If the truth be known, we’re not much better off than we were with the twisted tongue. There is, however, one difference. I will have with me the anti-bewitchment formula. It will only be useful if I can discover where to use it. But at any rate, I won’t have to leap into a janitor’s closet to perform any last-minute hocus pocus.”
“Where will you be leaping, Miss Switch?” I asked.
“Into Room Twelve, and right now, Rupert. We haven’t time to lose. This particular anti-bewitchment formula takes a few hours to mellow. And I’m going to need your help.” Miss Switch jumped up from her chair, turned on the flashlight, turned off the computer, and strode to the door. “Come along, Rupert. Come along, cat!”
“Brow-ow-owl!” Bathsheba leaped after her, and I came scurrying along behind.
“M-M-My help, Miss Switch?” I stammered. I mean, what did I actually know about spells, and anti-bewitching formulas? Actually, nothing. “Wh-Wh-What am I going to be doing?”
Miss Switch waited until we had entered Room Twelve before replying. “I have here with me the vital elements needed for the formula: wart of toad, three hairs of hog, claw of vulture, and tail of lizard, along with the more common elements of wing of bat, and your eye of newt. However, I’m still missing one very important ingredient. And that’s where you come in, Rupert.”
As she was talking, Miss Switch was pulling out the Bunsen burner, a flask, a measuring cup, and a small empty bottle with an eyedropper
