Read Online Three Good Deeds by Vivian Vande Velde - Free Book Online
Authors: Vivian Vande Velde
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time!
It's time!
IT'S TIME!"
And then, all togetherâeven Howard, though he'd had no idea what was about to pass his beak until it didâ"Fly!"
The geese burst out of the water.
Once againâas on the day the geese had learned their flight feathers had grown backâHoward's enthusiasm dragged him along with them.
It can't hurt,
he told himself this time.
I'll fly a little bit.
The geese wheeled back and forth, swooping up, then down, turning one way then the other.
Howard was having a good time despite himself.
Far below the old witch was waving. "Good-bye!" she called. "Good-bye. Have a safe journey. Good-bye, Red-Beak. Good-bye, Limp-Tail. Good-bye, He-Who-Honks-the-Loudest."
Journey?
Howard thought as the old witch called off names.
As the old witch called off names?
That was something he remembered from the folklore of Dumphrey's Mill, part of the old witch's craziness: She would tend the geese in the spring, and then stand in her yard yelling good-byes when they flew south for the winter.
South: the direction the flockâafter it's veering and dippingâhad finally started off in.
"Wait!" Howard practically stopped in
midair, and another goose almost collided with him. "We're
leaving?
"
"Watch where you're flying," that one muttered as he swerved to avoid Howard.
"Watch where you're flying. Watch where you're flying," others complained as those who had been behind began to catch up and bypass him.
"
We're leaving?
" Howard repeated. He couldn't leave. Dumphrey's Mill was here. His parents were here.
The witch who could change him back into his real shape was here.
Howard flapped just enough to keep up with the stragglers. "You're heading south?" he asked. "For the winter?"
"Oh, How-Word!" one of the geese called over his shoulderâHoward wasn't sure, from this back angle, whoâ"You always say the funniest things!"
Of course they were heading south for the winter. That's what geese do.
Howard slowed even more.
If I go with them,
he thought,
and I do a good deed, how will the old witch know and be able to turn me back into a boy?
But if I stay here, without them, who will I be able to do a good deed for?
He had already tried complimenting the old witch herself, and that hadn't had any effect. And he couldn't see how he could ever rescue her from anyone or anything. Someone with magic simply wasn't dependent on a goose, no matter how brave.
In Dumphrey's Mill, he couldn't compliment anyone, because no one there spoke goose. And if he stayed around the village, on the lookout to rescue them from something or otherâwho knew what?âthey were sure to eventually catch him and throw him into a cook pot.
Was that supposed to be his third good deed? he wondered crankily: To feed a hungry family?
Someone had angled away from the others and was coming back for him: the goose still known as Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers, though the red dye was just about all gone. "How-Word," she honked. "Catch up."
"I can't go south with the flock," he said. Perhaps she would be a loyal friend and offer to stay with him.
Instead she said, "Oh. All right then. Good-bye, How-Word." She swung around again and rejoined the formation.
Howard stayed in the air, flying back and forth across the pond, as the sound of their honking faded.
Until all the geese were so far away their individual shapes merged into one single shape.
Which became smaller and smaller.
And then was gone.
Alone, he flew down to the yard of the old witch.
She had been heading back to her cottage, but now stopped to lean on her cane and ask, "Decided to stay?"
Howard cocked his head to get a better look at her, to try to read her expression. "
Should
I have gone?" he asked. Fine time to ask, now that it was too late.
The old witch shrugged. "It's going to get cold here," she said.
Which sounded like a yes to Howard.
Frantically, he demanded, "Should I try to catch up? Should I try to find them? If I do
It's time!
IT'S TIME!"
And then, all togetherâeven Howard, though he'd had no idea what was about to pass his beak until it didâ"Fly!"
The geese burst out of the water.
Once againâas on the day the geese had learned their flight feathers had grown backâHoward's enthusiasm dragged him along with them.
It can't hurt,
he told himself this time.
I'll fly a little bit.
The geese wheeled back and forth, swooping up, then down, turning one way then the other.
Howard was having a good time despite himself.
Far below the old witch was waving. "Good-bye!" she called. "Good-bye. Have a safe journey. Good-bye, Red-Beak. Good-bye, Limp-Tail. Good-bye, He-Who-Honks-the-Loudest."
Journey?
Howard thought as the old witch called off names.
As the old witch called off names?
That was something he remembered from the folklore of Dumphrey's Mill, part of the old witch's craziness: She would tend the geese in the spring, and then stand in her yard yelling good-byes when they flew south for the winter.
South: the direction the flockâafter it's veering and dippingâhad finally started off in.
"Wait!" Howard practically stopped in
midair, and another goose almost collided with him. "We're
leaving?
"
"Watch where you're flying," that one muttered as he swerved to avoid Howard.
"Watch where you're flying. Watch where you're flying," others complained as those who had been behind began to catch up and bypass him.
"
We're leaving?
" Howard repeated. He couldn't leave. Dumphrey's Mill was here. His parents were here.
The witch who could change him back into his real shape was here.
Howard flapped just enough to keep up with the stragglers. "You're heading south?" he asked. "For the winter?"
"Oh, How-Word!" one of the geese called over his shoulderâHoward wasn't sure, from this back angle, whoâ"You always say the funniest things!"
Of course they were heading south for the winter. That's what geese do.
Howard slowed even more.
If I go with them,
he thought,
and I do a good deed, how will the old witch know and be able to turn me back into a boy?
But if I stay here, without them, who will I be able to do a good deed for?
He had already tried complimenting the old witch herself, and that hadn't had any effect. And he couldn't see how he could ever rescue her from anyone or anything. Someone with magic simply wasn't dependent on a goose, no matter how brave.
In Dumphrey's Mill, he couldn't compliment anyone, because no one there spoke goose. And if he stayed around the village, on the lookout to rescue them from something or otherâwho knew what?âthey were sure to eventually catch him and throw him into a cook pot.
Was that supposed to be his third good deed? he wondered crankily: To feed a hungry family?
Someone had angled away from the others and was coming back for him: the goose still known as Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers, though the red dye was just about all gone. "How-Word," she honked. "Catch up."
"I can't go south with the flock," he said. Perhaps she would be a loyal friend and offer to stay with him.
Instead she said, "Oh. All right then. Good-bye, How-Word." She swung around again and rejoined the formation.
Howard stayed in the air, flying back and forth across the pond, as the sound of their honking faded.
Until all the geese were so far away their individual shapes merged into one single shape.
Which became smaller and smaller.
And then was gone.
Alone, he flew down to the yard of the old witch.
She had been heading back to her cottage, but now stopped to lean on her cane and ask, "Decided to stay?"
Howard cocked his head to get a better look at her, to try to read her expression. "
Should
I have gone?" he asked. Fine time to ask, now that it was too late.
The old witch shrugged. "It's going to get cold here," she said.
Which sounded like a yes to Howard.
Frantically, he demanded, "Should I try to catch up? Should I try to find them? If I do
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