Read Online The Kingdom of Carbonel by Barbara Sleigh - Free Book Online Page A

arms of the chair. ‘I suppose because I said “I wish I was home,” and three times, too, that’s where the chair is taking me. How surprised Mum will be!’
    By this time, she could bring herself to look down without feeling giddy. Behind, she could see the tip of the pink wedge that was the new housesleading from Broomhurst, and the thought that John was there gave her courage. Suddenly, roofs and chimneys swirled and dipped beneath her. Few people looked up, but those who did scarcely had time to rub their eyes and look again before the rocking chair was too far away to be distinguished.
    The chair flew over the railway station where, such a short time ago, Rosemary and her mother had met John. A curious swallow swooped alongside. ‘Flying humans! What next?’ it said, and swooped away again.
    Then, Rosemary noticed with alarm that the chair was losing height. ‘My goodness, we’re going down! Chair do be careful!’
    The rows of crooked chimneys seemed to be coming straight up at her. She shut her eyes tightly, but even so, she had a sinking, going-down-in-a-lift feeling. Then there was a violent bump, and the chair overturned, throwing her in a heap on to a patch of long grass. She opened her eyes and sat up, surprised to find that, except for a few bruises, she was none the worse for her fall. She looked around cautiously.
    She was in a little garden. It was very small and surrounded on three sides by a high wall, with broken glass along the top. The fourth side was the back of a very shabby, small house. She gotup and looked at the flower beds which ran around the little patch of grass. ‘It’s a very strange garden!’ Rosemary said. It was very neat, but there were no flowers, as she knew them.
    â€˜Somebody has actually been growing weeds on purpose!’ There was a clump of stinging nettles carefully staked and tied, and another of hemlock, and there was a neat edging of dandelions. There were a great many plants that Rosemary did not recognize, nearly all of them with small, greenish flowers.
    â€˜That bush is deadly nightshade! I know it is, because the berries are poisonous, and someone has put a net over it to keep off the birds, just as you do with raspberries!’ There was a clumsy garden seat made from packing cases. A seed box stood beside it with a label which said, MANDRAKE SEEDLINGS. SPARROWS KEEP OFF .
    Rosemary watched a bee back clumsily out of a foxglove bell, and for the first time noticed the hum of a small thatched beehive. It stood in an angle of the garden wall. The bee hummed a little song which sounded like this:
    â€˜Busycum, buzzycum,
Nectar and honeycomb.
Lilac and lime on the tree,
Roses and lilies

And daffydown dillies,
Are not for the likes of me.
Not for a witch’s bee!’
    â€˜Excuse me,’ said Rosemary, ‘but can you tell me whose garden this is?’
    The bee took no notice, but buzzing busily, pushed itself into the next foxglove bell. When it backed out again, it went on humming its song as though she had not spoken.
    â€˜Busycum, buzzycum,
Pains in the tummy cum,
Sowthistle, poisonous pea,
Henbane and hellebore,
That’s what I’m looking for,
That’s for the likes of me,
Food for a witch’s bee!’
    â€˜Of course I do like your song, but
please
tell me where I am!’ said Rosemary once more.
    The bee stood on the lip of the foxglove bell, which dipped with its weight, and paused to clean its back legs.
    â€˜A hearing human, eh?’ it said. ‘I’ve heard of ’em of course, but never met one before. Full of surprises, this garden is. Whose is it? That’d be telling. Where are you? Where you’d much betternot be!’ And it boomed off, still humming to itself, ‘Busycum, buzzycum.’
    â€˜Oh, dear!’ said Rosemary. ‘That’s not much help. I expect I had better knock at the door. It’s going to be awfully difficult to explain how