The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas by Madeleine L'Engle Read Free Book Online Page B

age.”
    â€œHow right you are,” Mrs. Murry said. “Just give yourself time, Meg.”
    â€œLettuce on your sandwich, Mother?” Charles Wallace asked.
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    He cut the sandwich into sections, put it on a plate, and set it in front of his mother. “Yours’ll be along in just a minute, Meg. I think I’ll talk to Mrs Whatsit about you.”
    â€œWho’s Mrs Whatsit?” Meg asked.
    â€œI think I want to be exclusive about her for a while,” Charles Wallace said. “Onion salt?”
    â€œYes, please.”
    â€œWhat’s Mrs Whatsit stand for?” Mrs. Murry asked.
    â€œThat’s her name,” Charles Wallace answered. “You know the old shingled house back in the woods that the kids won’t go near because they say it’s haunted? That’s where they live.”
    â€œThey?”
    â€œMrs Whatsit and her two friends. I was out with Fortinbras a couple of days ago—you and the twins were at school, Meg. We like to walk in the woods, and suddenly he took off after a squirrel and I took off after him and we ended up by the haunted house, so I met them by accident, as you might say.”
    â€œBut nobody lives there,” Meg said.
    â€œMrs Whatsit and her friends do. They’re very enjoyable.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me about it before?” Mrs. Murry asked. “And you know you’re not supposed to go off our property without permission, Charles.”
    â€œI know,” Charles said. “That’s one reason I didn’t tell you. I just rushed off after Fortinbras without thinking. And then I decided, well, I’d better save them for an emergency, anyhow.”
    A fresh gust of wind took the house and shook it, and suddenly the rain began to lash against the windows.
    â€œI don’t think I like this wind,” Meg said nervously.
    â€œWe’ll lose some shingles off the roof, that’s certain,” Mrs. Murry said. “But this house has stood for almost two hundred years and I think it will last a little longer, Meg. There’s been many a high wind up on this hill.”
    â€œBut this is a hurricane!” Meg wailed. “The radio kept saying it was a hurricane!”
    â€œIt’s October,” Mrs. Murry told her. “There’ve been storms in October before.”
    As Charles Wallace gave Meg her sandwich Fortinbras came out from under the table. He gave a long, low growl, and they could see the dark fur slowly rising on his back. Meg felt her own skin prickle.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.
    Fortinbras stared at the door that opened into Mrs. Murry’s laboratory, which was in the old stone dairy right off the kitchen. Beyond the lab a pantry led outdoors, though Mrs. Murry had done her best to train the family to come into the house through the garage door or the front door and not through her lab. But it was the lab door and not the garage door toward which Fortinbras was growling.
    â€œYou didn’t leave any nasty-smelling chemicals cooking over a Bunsen burner, did you, Mother?” Charles Wallace asked.
    Mrs. Murray stood up. “No. But I think I’d better go see what’s upsetting Fort, anyhow.”
    â€œIt’s the tramp, I’m sure it’s the tramp,” Meg said nervously.
    â€œWhat tramp?” Charles Wallace asked. from among turned-up coat collar, stole, scarves, and hat, a voice like an unoiled gate, but somehow not unpleasant.
    â€œMrs—uh—Whatsit—says she lost her way,” Mrs. Murry said. “Would you care for some hot chocolate, Mrs Whatsit?”
    â€œCharmed, I’m sure,” Mrs Whatsit answered, taking off the hat and the stole. “It isn’t so much that I lost my way as that I got blown off course. And when I realized that I was at little Charles Wallace’s house I thought I’d just come in and rest a bit before proceeding on my