The Serial Garden: The Complete Armitage Family Stories by Garth Nix, Joan Aiken, Andi Watson, Lizza Aiken Read Free Book Online Page A

telephone, and instantly a flood of ink poured into his ear.
    Meanwhile, Mark and Harriet had decided to come in search of their father and cousin.
    "It might be wise not to go in the front way, don't you think?” said Harriet. “After all, it's rather odd that we haven't heard something of them by now. I feel there must have been some trouble."
    So they went stealthily round through the shrubbery and climbed up the wisteria to Harriet's window. The first thing they saw when they looked in was Sarah, pacing up and down in a distracted manner.
    "Good gracious—” Harriet began, but Sarah made frantic gestures to silence her. They climbed in as quietly as they could.
    "Thank heaven you've come,” she whispered. “Uncle Armitage is being roasted to death in the study, or else eaten by Walrus. You must rescue him at once.” They listened in horror, as she explained the position, and then hurriedly climbed out again. Sarah was no climber, so she hung out anxiously watching them, and thinking of the many times her uncle had given her half-crowns and pats on the head.
    Harriet ran to the back door, where the cat's tin plate still lay, and began to rattle it, calling “Walrus, Walrus, Walrus! Dinner! Walrus! Fish!"
    Mark climbed along the wisteria to the study window, to wait for the result of this move.
    He saw the cat Walrus, who was still sitting on the chair, attentively watching the melting process, suddenly prick up his ears and look towards the door. Then, as Harriet's voice came faintly again, he shot out of it and disappeared.
    "Confound that animal!” exclaimed Mr. Whizzard. “Catch him, Warlock!” They both ran out of the door, looking to right and left. Mark wasted no time. He clambered through the window, grabbed the cuckoo, and was out again before the two men returned, frustrated and angry.
    "Good heavens, now the bird's gone,” cried Mr. Warlock. “What a fool you were to leave the window open. It must have flown out."
    "Impossible! This is more of that wretched child's doing. I'm going along to see her, right away."
    He burst in on Sarah, looking so ferocious that she instinctively caught up the first weapon she could see, to defend herself. It was a screwdriver, left lying on the floor by one of the workmen.
    "What have you done with the cuckoo?” Mr. Whizzard demanded.
    "I haven't touched it,” Sarah truthfully replied.
    "Nonsense. Do you deny that you enticed the cat away by black arts, and then kidnapped the cuckoo?” He approached her threateningly.
    Sarah retreated as far as she could and clutched the screwdriver. “You're crackers,” she said. “I tell you I haven't—” Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. For where Mr. Whizzard had been standing there was nothing but a large white cardboard box, containing red and blue paper fireworks of the kind that you pull at parties; they were decorated with silver moons and stars. At this moment Mark and Harriet came climbing back through the window.
    * * * *
    Downstairs in the dining room the young wizards, having cleared away tea, were enjoying a singsong.
    "Ha ha ha, he he he [they sang],
    Little broom stick, how I love thee."
    They were interrupted by Mr. Warlock.
    "Have any of you boys seen Mr. Whizzard?” he inquired. “He went to interview the young female prisoner, and I haven't seen him since."
    "No sir, he hasn't been in here,” the eldest one said. “Won't you come and play for us, Mr. Warlock? You do play so beautifully."
    "Well, just for five minutes, if you insist.” They began to sing again.
    "Necromancers come away, come away, come come away,
    This is wizard's holiday,"
    When suddenly they were aware of the three children, Mark, Harriet, and Sarah, standing inside the door, holding the red-and-blue crackers in their hands.
    "What is the meaning of this?” said Mr. Warlock severely. “You are trespassing on private property."
    "Yes,” said Mark. “ Our property. This is our house, and we would like you to get out of it at