It was a long, weary way back. It took the little Witch three days and three nights. She came home on the morning of the fourth day with sore feet and holes in her shoes.
“Thank goodness you’re back at last!” Abraxas the raven welcomed her. He had been sitting on the chimney of the witch’s house keeping an anxious watch for her. When he caught sight of the little Witch a weight lifted from the raven’s mind. He spread his wings and flew to meet her.
“This is a fine way to behave!” he scolded. “Gadding all over the place for days on end while I sit helplessly at home!” He hopped from one leg to the other. “You look dreadful! Covered with dust from head to foot! And why are you limping? Did you walk? I thought you had your broomstick with you!”
“I did!” sighed the little Witch.
“I did?” croaked Abraxas. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’s gone.”
“Your broomstick …?”
“Gone,” the little Witch repeated.
Light began to dawn on the raven. He put his head on one side and said, “So they caught you, then? Only to be expected. I should have been much surprised if they hadn’t caught you! Well, you deserved all you got.”
It was all the same to the little Witch. Sleep! she thought. Oh, for some sleep! She limped into the bedroom and fell on top of the bed.
“Hi!” cried Abraxas, shocked. “Aren’t you even going to take your dirty clothes off?”
But she was already snoring.
She slept like a log till late next morning. When she woke up Abraxas was perching on her bedpost. “Had your sleep out?”
“Just about,” said the little Witch, yawning.
“Well, now might I hear what happened?”
“Breakfast first!” the little Witch grumbled. “I can’t talk on an empty stomach.”
She had a long, satisfying breakfast. When she was so full she couldn’t have eaten another mouthful, she pushed her plate away and explained.
“Well, you’ve had a lucky escape, for all your rashness,” said the raven when she had told her story. “Now, don’t you forget to be a good witch till next year.”
“I’ll take great care,” she promised. “I’ll work seven hours a day instead of six from now on. And I’ve something else to do, too – something just as important.”
“What?”
The little Witch made a face. She looked very fierce.
Then she explained, saying each word clearly, “I – will – be – re-venged!”
“On whom?”
“On Aunt Rumpumpel. It’s all her fault, the beast! She gave me away to the other witches, she did! I’ve got her to thank for my sore feet and worn-out shoes! Who stirred up the others against me? Who was the first to say the Head Witch must punish me? She wasn’t even satisfied with burning my broomstick. She still kept on at me.”
“That was really mean of her, certainly,” said the raven. “But revenge …?”
“I’ll bewitch her! I’ll give her a pig’s snout!” hissed the little Witch. “And donkey’s ears! And calf’s feet! A goat’s beard on her chin – and a cow’s tail hanging on behind!”
“Cow’s tail? Goat’s beard?” said Abraxas discouragingly. “As if you could annoy old Rumpumpel like that! She’s a witch the same as you – she’ll bewitch it all away again in a twinkling!”
“Do you think so?”
The little Witch realized that a donkey’s ears and calf’s feet were no use this time. “Never mind!” she replied. “I expect I shall think up something better! Something that even Aunt Rumpumpel will not be able to cope with all that easily. Do you think I shall?”
“It’s possible,” answered Abraxas. “Only I’m afraid you’ll be very sorry for it if you do hurt Rumpumpel the storm-witch.”
“Why?” asked the little Witch, puzzled.
“Because you promised the Head Witch to be a good witch. And if you ask me, good witches aren’t supposed to hurt people. Get that into your head.”
The little Witch looked doubtfully at the raven. “Do you mean that?”
“Certainly I do,” said Abraxas. “I’d think it over, if I were you.”