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

once."
    "Vacate it,” whispered Harriet.
    "Vacate it at once."
    "We shall do no such thing."
    "Very well then. Do you know what we have here?” He held up one of the crackers. “Your Mr. Whizzard. And if you don't get out—vacate—at once, we shall pull them. So you'd better hurry up."
    The wizards looked at each other in consternation, and then, slowly at first, but with gathering speed, began to put their things together and take them out to the dragon-coach. The children watched them, holding the crackers firmly.
    "And you must take down all that beaverboard partitioning,” said Harriet. “I don't know what Mummy would say if she saw it."
    "The workmen have all gone home."
    "Then you must manage on your own."
    The house began to resound with amateurish bangs and squeaks. “Ow, Nightshade, you clumsy clot, you dropped that board on my toe.” “Well, get out of the way then, you nitwit necromancer."
    At last it was all done, and at the front gate the children handed over the twelve red and blue parts of Mr. Whizzard.
    "And it's more than you deserve,” said Harriet, “seeing how you were going to treat our poor Pa."
    "We should also like that screwdriver, with which I perceive you have armed yourself, or we shall not be able to restore our director to his proper shape,” said Mr. Warlock coldly.
    "Oh, dear me, no. You're nuts if you think we're going to let you get away with that,” said Sarah. “We shall want it in case of any further trouble. Besides, what about poor uncle—oh dear—” she stopped in dismay. For Mr. Warlock had disappeared, and his place had been taken by a sack of coconuts.
    "Oh, never mind,” said Harriet. “You didn't mean to do it. Here, do for goodness’ sake hurry up and go.” She shoved the sack into the arms of Nightshade, and bundled him into the coach, which slowly rolled off. “We must simply dash along to Mrs. Foster's. I'm sure Mummy will be worrying."
    They burst in on Mrs. Armitage with their story. “And where is your father?” she asked immediately.
    "Oh goodness.” Mark looked guilty. “I'd forgotten all about him.” He carefully extracted the half-stifled cuckoo from his trouser pocket.
    "Out with the screwdriver, Sarah."
    Sarah obediently pointed it at him and said “You're Uncle” and he was restored to himself once more, but looking much rumpled and tattered. He glared at them all.
    "I must say, that's a respectful way to treat your father. Carried in your trouser pocket, indeed!"
    "Well, I hope this will cure you once and for all of writing those unkind reviews,” said Mrs. Armitage coldly. “Now we have all the trouble of moving back again, and just when I was beginning to feel settled."
    "And talking of cures,” said Mr. Armitage, turning on his niece, “we won't say anything this time, seeing it's all turned out for the best, but if ever I catch you playing any of your practical jokes again—"
    "Oh, I never, never will,” Sarah assured him. “I thought people enjoyed them."
    "Not in this family,” said Mark.
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Sweet Singeing in the Choir
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    Daddy, have we really got a fairy godmother?” asked Harriet, dropping her basket full of holly leaves in a corner of the room and coming over to the fire, where tea was laid on a little table.
    "Possibly, possibly,” he replied, without coming out of his evening paper.
    "No, but really?” she persisted. “A rather silly-looking lady, with popping eyes and a lot of necklaces?"
    "Oh, yes, now I remember,” said Mr. Armitage, putting down his paper and starting to laugh. “She was the one who dropped you in the font. Your mother never took to her much. And right after the christening she tried to interest me in a scheme for supplying old fairy ladies with needlework patterns."
    "Goodness, can't they make their own?"
    "Apparently not. Yes, of course, she was going to give you each a wish for your christening presents, but your mother pointed out that if you had