Read Online Witch's Business by Diana Wynne Jones - Free Book Online

it.”
    â€œDon’t be daft!” said Frank. “They’d love it.”
    â€œOkay,” said the Aunt. “Come in here, then.” She walked into the room where the easel was and stood waiting for them to follow.
    â€œThey’ve got very strong objections,” Jess said desperately. “Religious ones. And—and Vernon belongs to an Eastern religion that doesn’t allow him even to be photographed.”
    â€œI do not ,” said Vernon, looking rather scandalized. “But,” he said to the Aunt, “we would like to speak to Frankie and Jenny, please.”
    â€œGive ’em a knock, then,” said the Aunt. “Have them in here and talk while I get you down. Makes it more natural, anyway.”
    They seemed to be absolutely caught. Jess could have shaken the boys, Martin for just standing looking haughty—she was beginning to think that it was when he was shy that he looked haughty, but she could have shaken him all the same—and Vernon and Frank for being stupid and getting them caught. She tried to kick Frank, but he moved out of reach to knock on the playroom door. Jess overbalanced against Vernon and started his nose bleeding again.
    The Aunt looked interested. “So that’s where it all came from,” she said. “Like a key?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” said Vernon. “It’s stopping.”
    â€œDon’t stop it,” said the Aunt. “Let it come. It’s a splendid color.”
    Frankie and Jenny came to the playroom door. When they saw Frank, they looked eager, but as soon as they caught sight of Martin and Vernon, their heads went up and their faces went pale and fierce.
    â€œWhy did you bring them ?” said Jenny.
    â€œThey’re in league against us,” said Frankie.
    â€œNo, they’re not,” said Frank. “Not now, anyway. We’re all in league against—against—anyway, we’ve got to talk to you. Heirlooms. Witch. You know. Your aunt wants to paint us, though.”
    â€œOh,” said Frankie. “She does that. She caught the milkman yesterday.”
    Jess pitied the milkman. The two little girls followed the others into the easel room, which was very cold, but much lighter than the playroom, and there it was all very awkward. Nobody could say anything straight out, because the Aunt was there, sketching fiercely, and mixing blood-red and carrot red paint; and Frankie and Jenny would not talk to Martin, and not much to Vernon, either. Every time Frank or Jess tried to whisper to the girls, the Aunt asked them to sit still.
    â€œWon’t be five minutes,” she said, at least twenty times.
    Frank became quite desperate. To make matters worse, Jess and Vernon were beginning to find the Aunt painting so interesting that they could not take their eyes off her. They seemed to be forgetting entirely what they had come for. Frank looked at Martin, and Martin made a face back. Neither he nor Frank found anything to interest them, except perhaps the discovery that the Aunt did sometimes touch her cigarette—when it was finished, she popped it in a paint tin and lit another. Apart from this, which was not very interesting, it all seemed rather dull.
    Frank had another try. “Heirloom,” he said to Jenny. “How was it lost, and when?”
    Jenny shook her head. “It just went. When we moved from his house.” She nodded at Martin, and Martin scowled.
    â€œSplendid!” said the Aunt. “Keep scowling.”
    â€œWhen was that?” Frank asked.
    â€œI don’t remember,” said Jenny. “I was too little. But it was after Mother went.”
    â€œWhy do you want to know?” asked Frankie.
    This was difficult. “Because,” said Frank. “Because—”
    â€œWe’re joined in,” said Vernon unexpectedly. “We find it, do her down, and cure you. She did it to my brother, too, see.” The two little