So from then on the little Witch studied her Book of Witchcraft seven hours a day instead of six. By next Walpurgis Night she meant to know everything a good witch could be expected to know. She was still young enough to learn easily; soon she could cast all the important spells from memory.
Inbetween times she sometimes went out for a ride. She needed a change after so many hours of hard practice. It even happened, since she had bought her new broomstick, that she went on foot through the wood now and then. Choosing to walk is not at all the same thing as having to walk.
One day, when she was wandering about the wood with Abraxas the raven, she met three old women. All three carried baskets on their backs, and they were peering at the ground as if they were looking for something.
“What are you looking for?” asked the little Witch.
“We’re looking for dry bark and broken twigs,” said one of the little old women.
“But we haven’t had any luck,” sighed the second. “The wood might have been swept clean.”
“Have you been looking long?” asked the little Witch.
“Since this morning,” said the third old woman. “We’ve hunted and hunted, but we haven’t collected so much as half a basket full. What will become of us if we have so little wood to burn next winter?”
The little Witch glanced at the baskets. They held nothing but a few dry sticks. “If that’s all you’ve found, I can see why you look sad,” she said to the women. “Why can’t you find anything?”
“It’s the wind’s fault.”
“The wind?” cried the little Witch. “How can it be the wind’s fault?”
“Because it won’t blow,” said the first old woman.
“And if the wind doesn’t blow, you see, nothing falls down from the trees.”
“And if no twigs and branches fall down, how are we to fill our baskets?”
“Oh, so that’s how it is!” said the little Witch.
The women who were looking for sticks nodded, and one of them said, “What wouldn’t I give to know witchcraft! Then we’d be all right! I’d call up a magic wind. But there, I can’t.”
“No, to be sure,” said the little Witch. “You can’t.”
The three women decided to go home then. “There’s no point in hunting any more,” they said. “We shan’t find anything so long as the wind doesn’t blow. Good afternoon!”
“Good afternoon!” said the little Witch. She waited until the three women were a few paces away.
“Couldn’t you help them?” Abraxas asked softly.
The little Witch laughed. “That’s just what I’m going to do. Hold tight, or you’ll get blown away!”
Making a wind was child’s play to the little Witch.
She whistled through her teeth – and immediately a whirlwind arose. And what a whirlwind it was! It rushed through the trees, shaking the trunks. It tore the dry twigs off all the trees. Pieces of bark and big branches rattled down on the ground.
The women shrieked and ducked their heads in fright. They held their skirts down with both hands. The whirlwind almost blew them off their feet. But the little Witch didn’t let that happen.
“That’s enough!” she called. “Stop!”
The wind obeyed at once. It died away. The woodgatherers looked timidly round. Then they saw that the wood was full of sticks and broken twigs.
“What luck!” they cried all three. “So much wood to pick up all at once! It’ll last us for weeks!”
They picked up as much as they could carry and stuffed it into their baskets. Then they went home, beaming with joy.
The little Witch watched them go with a smile.
Even Abraxas the raven, for once, was remarkably pleased. “Not bad for a start!” he said, pecking her shoulder. “I think you really have the makings of a good witch.”