Magic by the Lake (6 page)

"And midnight canoe rides," said Jane.

"I wish we were sixteen right now, don't you?" said Katharine, trailing one foot in the water.

"Yes," said Jane, trailing one of hers, "I do."

Immediately they were.

Mark felt the change coming just before it happened, and started to cry out, but what could he say? All he could do was watch, horrified, as his sisters' figures lengthened in the middle and their scratched legs grew slim and elegant, and their faces changed from tan and freckled to pink-and-white and powdered and uppity.

"I don't like it! Tell it to stop!" cried Martha, gazing at her expanding sisters in dismay.

"It's that magic," said Mark. "We said not every day, but nobody said anything about the nighttimes!"

Of course, if the magic had chosen to be really mean, it could have made Jane and Katharine grow up, still in their short smocked frocks and circle-combs, and they might have looked like little girls, only stretched, the way Alice did after she ate the cake that said, "Eat me."

But it took pity on their faltering youth and provided suitable dance dresses, one pink and one turquoise. And their straight un-sixteenish hair curled rapidly into a fashionable frizz, cut in the new shingle bob.

"Eek!" said the vision in pink (who seemed to be Katharine), pulling her foot quickly up out of the lake. "What nasty cold water!"

"Paddling with the little ones, how quaint," said the altered Jane.

And the two smartly-dressed flappers hurried to pull on the silken hose and satin slippers the magic had thoughtfully left in place of their cast-off socks and scuffed oxfords.

"Run along, children," said the Jane one. "Go tell your mother she wants you." And she and the Katharine one turned toward the dance floor.

Mark grabbed Martha's hand, and they hurried after them anxiously. The children's mother and Mr. Smith passed, going in the opposite direction.

"Hello, darlings, having fun?" said their mother, not noticing a thing, of course.

But two white-flanneled young men who were lounging near the dance floor seemed to notice Jane and Katharine quite a lot (which proved that they were perhaps not quite such grown-up young men as they thought they were).

One of the young men was dark, with slickum in his hair; the other sported a downy blond mustache. As Jane and Katharine drew near, the blond young man nudged his friend. The dark young man uttered a low whistle.

"I say, Topsfield," said the blond one affectedly. "What say to a spin on the floor with yon fair damsels?"

"Some keen chickens," said the dark one, smoothing his hair.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Jane to Katharine.

"Aren't they
awful
?" whispered Katharine to Jane. They giggled and preened.

"Dudes! Cake-eaters! Harold Teens!" muttered Mark furiously, in the shadows.

The young men approached. "How about a bit of the giddy whirl?" said the dark one to Jane.

"I don't mind," said Jane, tossing her head for all the world as though she really didn't.

"Shall we join the maddening throng?" said the affected blond one to Katharine.

"Charmed," said Katharine, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Ick!" Mark squirmed in his lurking-place.

"I like the dark one best, don't you? He looks like Rudolph Valentino," Martha whispered in his ear.

"He does not! He looks like a big prune!" growled Mark, savage at this desertion by his one ally.

The orchestra struck up "Three O'Clock in the Morning," and the two enchanted maidens went gliding away in the arms of their youthful cavaliers. Mark didn't know what to do next, but he thought he ought to do
something.
Some of the dance tickets Mr. Smith had bought were still in his pocket; so he grabbed Martha and shoved two tickets at the ticket taker. A second later they were sliding and hopping about the floor, pretending they were waltzing but really being detectives hot on the trail.

At first Mark couldn't locate either of his grown-up sisters as he tottered and heaved his way through the throng of giddy, whirling figures. At last he saw Katharine and the blond young man. They were dancing cheek-to-cheek! Katharine's eyes were.

closed, and the blond young man was whispering in her ear. Mark was so sickened at the sight that he forgot to lurk, and bumped straight into them.

"Really!" said the blond young man, looking down at him loftily. "What grubby children! I didn't know they allowed
babies
on the dance floor!"

"Aren't they horrid-looking? I wonder who they could be," said Katharine.

Mark stared at his sister with the open mouth of outrage.

"Shut your mouth; you'll trip and fall in it," said the blond young man, forgetting to be affected and being just a snippy sixteen-year-old.

This made Mark so angry that he squared up to the bigger boy and told him to put up his dukes. But at that moment the eddy of the dance swept Katharine and the blond young man away.

Mark looked around wildly and caught sight of the other young man with Jane. They were just leaving the dance floor. They were going to sit this one out, in the moonlight. Mark had heard of sitting dances out in the moonlight, and he was sure no good would come of it. What if the young man proposed? What if they eloped, and then Jane turned back into a little girl again, right at the altar?

Pulling Martha with him, he gave chase. Outside, Jane and the dark young man were just sitting down on a rustic bench bathed with suitable moonbeams. Mark and Martha crouched behind a handy hemlock, and peered out and listened.

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank and all that sort of thing," said the dark young man airily, crossing his legs in a sophisticated manner.

"I adore poetry," said Jane.

The dark young man shifted nearer and made his eyes big and soulful. "The night is yet young," he said, "and romance is in the air."

"Is it?" said Jane in thrilled tones.

"Yes," said the young man, "it is. Listen. I know where I can hire this certain canoe. What say to a cruise on the rolling deep after the last dance?"

"All right," said Jane.

Mark groaned, but nobody heard him, because at that moment the band in the pavilion started playing "Home Sweet Home," and a minute later people began streaming out through the doors.

"Let's go find the others," said Jane, and she started for the pavilion, followed by the dark young man, followed by Mark and Martha. As the procession neared the entrance, the four children's mother appeared with Mr. Smith. Walking right past Jane as though she didn't see her, she came up to Martha and Mark.

"Oh, there you are," she said. "Come along, it's time for bed."

"What about Jane and Kathie?" said Martha.

"Aren't they with you? They must have gone on ahead, then. Come on."

"In a minute. I have to get something." Mark fidgeted and tried to peer past his mother.

"Have to get what?"

"Something I lost." He could see no sign anywhere now of Jane or Katharine or the young men.

Two more precious minutes were wasted in idle argument before he and Martha could escape. Once out of sight of the unwitting grown-ups, they ran. They ran to the pavilion. It was deserted. Then they ran down by the shore. There was a boathouse and a sign that said, "Canoes for Hire." But the man in charge was unhelpful.

"We don't hire to no kids," he said. "Gwan home." He went in and shut the door.

Mark and Martha ran to the water's edge. Over the lake came the sound of merry voices. Someone was playing a ukulele and singing, "Paddlin' Madeline Home."

"When'll they change back, do you suppose?" said Martha anxiously. "The other magic didn't wear off till sundown; do you suppose at night it won't be till moonset? When
is
moonset?"

"I don't know," said Mark. He stood hesitant.

"Can't we unwish them?" said Martha.

"No," said Mark, "we can't. That never works. It's against the rules."

"Oh, those old rules again!" said Martha.

"Wait," said Mark. "At least we can be with them and know the worst." And hoping the time would still be ripe, he touched the lake.

Immediately they were with their sisters.

But he had forgotten to put in that they wanted to end up actually
in
the canoe; so where they found themselves was in the water, right next to it. The sudden cold plunge was quite a shock, and for a minute all Mark could do was splutter and gasp.

From the canoe (which was the extra-long tandem kind) four astonished faces gazed.

"Help! I'm drowning!" cried Martha, who nearly
was.

The blond young man stood up and began stripping off his jacket heroically. "Be calm, ladies," he said in red-blooded tones. "Leave it all to me. I'll save her!" Then his expression changed as he recognized Mark and Martha. "Oh, it's you again," he said. "Am I going to have
more
trouble with you?"

Amazement gave way to wrath in the face of Jane. "Honestly, of all the tag-alongs!" she said. "Do you two have to follow me wherever I go?"

"Beat it, small fry!" said the dark young man rudely, strumming his ukulele.

"How perfectly mortifying!" said Katharine.

"Just a minute," said Mark. He didn't have to worry about touching the lake this time, because there was very little of him or Martha that
wasn't.
The next minute he had wished, and they were sitting drippingly in the bottom of the canoe, which was rocking dangerously.

The dark young man stopped playing his ukulele in midstrum. "Whew!" he said admiringly. "That was some jump, kid. How'd you do it? You ought to train for aquatic sports!"

"You're dripping on my white shoes," complained the blond young man.

Mark paid them no heed. "I'm sorry," he said, "butting in like this, but I've got to tell you something. You're making a terrible mistake. I wanted to warn you before it's too late. Those girls you've got there aren't what they seem."

"They're minors," said Martha.

"Miners?" said the dark young man.

"She means minors," said Mark. He pointed at Jane. "You may not believe it, but that is a child of twelve."

"Some child!" said the dark young man, looking at Jane's willowy frame.

"They're my sisters," said Mark. "They ran away from home. I came to fetch them back. The other one's nine. They're big for their age."

"They're overgrown," added Martha helpfully.

"Of all the ridiculous stories," said Jane in disdain.

"Never in all my life!" said Katharine.

"They're sort of out of their minds right now," went on Mark, hardly knowing what he was saying. "That's why we keep them shut up."

"You'll have to think up a better story than that," said the blond young man. "I wasn't born yesterday!"

"I don't need a brick house falling down on me!" chimed in the dark one.

"You wouldn't like them at
all
, really," Mark rattled on desperately. "They're not your type. She bites her nails," he said, pointing at Jane, "and
she
"—he pointed at Katharine—"sucks her thumb still. Well,
sometimes
she does," he said, being fair.

"And they both play paper dolls," said Martha.

"Shame on you!" said the blond young man to Mark. "Teaching this innocent little child to tell lies that way!"

"Only a skunk would do a thing like that!" said the dark young man.

"You're right, Topsfield!" said the blond one. "You hit the nail on the head! Only a skunk!" And he glared at Mark. "She's too young to know any better, but as for you, we've had enough of your funny jokes! I give you ten seconds to get out of this canoe!

Mark felt more desperate than ever. He didn't know what to wish, and he couldn't unwish, and at any moment the time might stop being ripe. Then he remembered what Martha had said about the magic's maybe being over when the moon set. And he touched the lake and wished quietly that it would be moonset right now.

Immediately the moon shot down the sky, fell into the lake (at least that's what it looked like), and disappeared.

"Great Scott, Topsfield!" cried the blond young man. "Did you see that comet?"

"More like a shooting star, I'd say, Wigglesworth," said the dark one. They sat blinking in the sudden darkness.

But of course you can't make a moon set just any old time. The moon was scheduled to set that morning at five-forty-one A.M., and so of course that's what it immediately was, and the dawn started coming up like gray streaks of paint above the lake, and its wan light bathed the six passengers in the canoe.

"By Jove!" said the blond young man, aghast, staring at a suddenly shrunken Katharine. "Topsfield, do you see what I see?"

"Gad, Wigglesworth!" said the dark one, looking with horror at small Jane with her nobbly knees and blue-and-white socks. "Did they look like that all along?"

"Where are we?" said Jane, like someone coming out of a trance.

"Don't you remember?" said Martha.

"I don't know," said Jane. "It's kind of mixed-up."

"It's all like a dream," said Katharine.

"You're in a canoe," said Mark, beginning to enjoy himself. "These nice big boys took you for a little trip. Say thank you to the nice big boys."