Chapter 1 of Mr. Wicker's Window This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For information, or how to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Arthur Piantodosi, Los Angeles, California. Chapter 1 of Mr. Wicker's Window Christopher Mason felt numb. It seemed to him that he was as good as an orphan already. For his father, a commander in the Navy, was far away at sea, then Chris's mother was in a hospital, not expected to live. Chris scuffed along the brift pavement in some gorge town, but he did not. As he usually did, look about at its familiar houses, this friendly core of the growing city of Washington, D.C. today seemed to him almost hostile. Georgetown, where Chris lived, is the oldest part of the capital city, built by early English settlers long years before Washington itself was ever even planned. Grouped at the head of the navigable part of the Potomac River above Georgetown's bluffs, the Potomac foams and dashes of our wild rocks and waterfalls, and across the river the country starts. Chris had just left his mother's sister, his Aunt Rachel.  But a cold-edged wing of fear had brushed the boy like a bat-wing in the night. He had shaken his head, speechless, grabbed a sweater, and slammed the front door. Now he hesitated on the corner, suddenly dismayed, not knowing quite where to go or what to do. The whole city, with its white marble buildings and temple memorials, its elm-lined avenue seemed all at once very empty. He looked down through the Potomac, always for Chris, just the river, where it glinted blistantly blue and silver at the edge of the street. Factories along the riverbank cut off all the farthest stretches of water as the river moved under bridge after bridge beside the banks of Maryland and Virginia. Chris made up his mind to see what might be in the Pep Boy store, far down the hill on a long, traffic-filled M Street. Somehow the tawdry bustle of this street, with its many shops, appealed to the boy who carried misery inside him like a cold, heavy stone. Running he started down the hill between the lines of old brick houses, left Rock Creek Park behind him and turned to the right up M Street, reached the hardware glitter of the Pep Boys, and it was there as he stood staring in at the chromium bicycle lamps, red glass taillights, and wire baskets that Mike Duggan found him. End of Chapter 1 of Mr. Wicker's Window. Chapter 2 of Mr. Wicker's Window. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or on how it did volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Arthur Piantadosi, Los Angeles, California. February the 14th, 2010. Chapter 2 of Mr. Wicker's Window. Mike was in his class at public school, eighth grade. Mike was all right. Chris liked him. Hi, Chris. Hi, Mike. Whatcha doing? Nothing much. Just looking. Say, you know something? Mike wriggled himself across part of the Pep Boys' window to gain Chris' attention. All the Wicker's got a signage in the window. He needs a boy. For after-school living. I think he'd pay, huh? Why don't you try? Chris looked from a nickel-plated flashlight to a car jack and spark plug. Oh, I don't know. Mike persisted. Well, I'll tell you what. No one needs a job bad. That's Jakey Harris. His mother's sick, and he's got that bad foot. Why don't you ask for him, huh?  Oh, Chris mirrored was... Needs a job bad. Mother's sick. Okay, he said. Only why didn't you ask him yourself? Mike became uneasy and fished an elastic band out of his pocket, made a flick of paper and sent it soaring out into M Street. Well, he admitted, I did.  That old antique shop is dark and spooky, and... Well, I went in, and there wasn't nobody there, only him and me. Mike stopped, and after a pause, he said, So what? So... Mike swallowed him. So I said, there was there about the job, and do you know what he said? He said, he went out without any urging, but with a frown and perplexity ridging his forehead. He said, turn around and look out that window, someone tell me what you see. Mike stopped and looked at Chris with a comical expression. Everybody knows what's got outside his window. He burst out of all the silly things, but he turned around and looked like he told me to, and of course there was the traffic going by, and trucks and cabs, and people across the street and the freeway were in, and you know. So what did he say? Chris asked, and for the first time that day, the heavy weight he carried within him lifted and lightened a little. Mike and Sam in the tow of his worn shoe, we just smiled, that funny little crackly smile, and said, I'm so dear young man, you won't do. For a moment both boys stared into each other's eyes, each questioning, wondering, and neither being able to supply the answer. Alas, Chris wrote the silence, curious thing I ever heard. Gee, what do you suppose? Mike took heart. His expression believed and his baffle much shared. He spoke cheerfully. It doesn't make sense, but which were so old he may be addled. Don't you reckon? Who else would keep an antique shop where nobody ever looks? All the other antique shops are along Wisconsin Avenue where people go to shop. You reckon Jacob would really use the job? Chris asked, his courage ebbing as he pictured to himself the dark little shop with its bow window of small pains, Mr. Wicker, so thin and wizened he has seen only bones and wrinkles. Think he really needs it? He pursued, but Mike was certain, or perhaps he needed a companion on this curious experiment. You bet he does! He told me at noon today he wished he could find something that would help bring some money in. His mother's sick, he repeated, and Jake, he don't look so good himself. Well... Chris said, half-green, I'll go with you! Mike announced as if that finished the argument, which, as a matter of fact, it did. Chris did not feel too happy about his mission and hung back a moment longer looking in the pep boy's window with things he had already seen. He would have liked to get the job for Jakey, who needed it, but somehow the task of facing Mr. Wicker. Especially now that the light was going and dusk edged into the streets was not what Chris had intended for ending the afternoon. Although he had been quite certain he would spend the rest of the morning daylight, Mike's plan did not seem to fit his present mood. Are you coming? Mike challenged with a hint of derision. Chris suddenly, I'm coming! I'll ask for Jakey. Mike's expression changed at what wants to want of triumph, but Chris was only partially encouraged. The two boys walked to the corner of M Street and Conston Avenue. Traffic roared of the first short block of Wisconsin from under the high of East Steele Freeway on down to their left. Chris glanced down in the slope of Wisconsin. Houses and shops thinned suddenly on both sides of the street, he could see the brick walls and slate roof of Mr. Wicker's house. Chris knew it well, for times without number he had pressed his nose to the square, Georgian panes and Mr. Wicker's window to gaze at the strangely fascinating jumble of oddments they were displaying. Now, however, he felt in no mood to visit the Curiosity Shop and should shifting his feet and looking aimlessly about. Mike beside him was becoming restive and gave him a poke. I'm going after all! Yeah, I'm too! Mike loose his dainful. Aw, you're stalling! Not any such thing! I'm going now! Okay, let's see you! Chris turned his back on Mike and started down the hill after a step or two not finding his friend beside him. He turned, Mike was standing on the corner. Hi! Chris is called. You said you were coming with me! Well, I was! Mike held back, but I just remembered. He told me to bring her some stuff from the safeway. I'll run all the way and come back and meet you. Aw, shucks! Chris connected an insistent pebble and scowl, but a chore was a chore and was never worth discussing. I'll meet you in 15, 20 minutes! Mike shouted, it won't take me long! And throwing out his hands to signify that there was nothing he could do about it. Chris started off once more passing a bleak little Victorian church perched on the hill above Mr. Wicker's house. An empty lot cut into by church lane gave a look of isolation to the L-shaped brick building that served Mr. Wicker's both house and place of business. Chris paused to look below him. Even from where he stood, 50 feet above the house, the slope of the hill was sharp and the plan of the house below him could be plainly seen. It was built like an inverted L, the short wing facing toward the street in traffic of Wisconsin Avenue. The wing toward the back got a back door that opened on a water street. The space between the house and Wisconsin Avenue had been made into a neat oblong flower garden fenced off from the sidewalk by box shrugs and a white picket fence. Behind it, along the other side of Longwing, lay a meticulously arranged flower archable garden and a few apple trees. His gaze moved back to the house itself. It seemed to have been built at about the same time as a similar look of design and age. The windows of Mr. Wicker's house had smaller panes of glass than they used nowadays. Unlike the warehouses across from it, Mr. Wicker had many dormer windows jutting out from the slated roof. Unlike the warehouses, however, which were rickety and down to heel, Mr. Wicker's home was well cared for. The windows, except for the bow window on the shop to the right of the front door, had shutters painted a pleasing bluey green so that their sides could be seen the edges of gay curtains. The traffic freeway was high above the roof, doorfing the old house and casting a deepening shadow over the whole length of water street. Shading even Mr. Wicker's back door so close to it rised beside the house. The air was filled with mechanical sounds. The roar of cars speeding up the hill, the grind of gears, the shattering throb of wheels along the freeway and the factory's along the shore. The sun was dropping and Scribeside and Chris made a sinister promise for the olden day. A livid yellow stained the horizon beyond the factory's and gray clouds lowered and tumbled above. The air was growing chill and Chris decided to finish the job. All at once he wondered how his mother was and everything in him impinged and tightened itself. At the foot of the hill he reached the house. As he came to the bow front he noticed when he looked at Mr. Wicker's window touched him again and he stopped to take a look at its well memorized display. For as long as he had stopped to look at Mr. Wicker's window which is as far back as he could remember Chris had never known the objects to vary or be changed. There were three things that always caught his eye amid the litter of dusty pieces. On the left the coil of rope in the center the model of a sailing ship in a green glass bottle and on the right the wooden statue in baggy trousers a turquoise jacket and white turban. The figure was holding up a wooden bouquet the yellow paint peeling from the car flowers. The figure's mouth was open and engaging toothy smile and its right hand was on one hip on the chipped red paint of the baggy trousers. The ship so often contemplated by Chris that he knew every thorny thread and delicately joined it board. But this remastered schooner, sleek of line, painted at one time a dazzling white. Now with dust dulling the green sides of the bottle its sails look loose and sides grime. But the name still showed at the prow and many a time Chris safe at home in bed had sailed imaginary voyages in the Mirabelle. It lay there snug and captured as if in the bottom of a tropical sea seen through the glass sides of the bottle and Chris never tired of looking at it. But perhaps the coil of rope so meaningless, so meaningful held his imagination by an even stronger hold. Why a coil of rope in an antique shop? Who would want it? People bought rope in a hardware store. It was one farther along M Street near the old deserted Lido Theatre. But here in an antique shop Chris shook his head as he stared. He had never seen anyone go into Mr. Worker's shop now he thought about it. How then did he live? And what did he ever sell? A sudden car horn. Walk him from his dream. He looked up seeing for the first time the small card hung at eye level in the window. In a beautiful script such as Chris had never seen before but very legible the card read Boy Wanted Gulpeng W Wicca. J.T. Harris came back into Chris's thoughts. He looked over at his shoulder at the darkening sky with Citro strokes. He fell and tackled high up at the loft door of the warehouse opposite and put his hand in the doorknob. The last flicker of light scutted across the steel sides of the freeway to pick off the lettering above the shop window. William Wicca. Curiosity. Chris opened the door and a bell jangled very faintly. Far away in some distant part of the house. And Mr. Wicca's window Chapter 2 End. Chapter 3 Mr. Wicca's window This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Arthur Piantodosi Los Angeles, California Mr. Wicca's window Chapter 3 The last reverberations of sound hung in the air and jangled in Chris's head. Of the many times he examined Mr. Wicca's window and poured over the rope, the ship, and the Nubian boy, he had never gone into Mr. Wicca's shop. So now, alone until someone should answer the bell, he looked eagerly, if uneasily, around him. What with the one window in the lowering day outside, the long narrow shop was somber. The ceiling closed above Chris's head. Heavy hand-ewing beams crossed it from one side to the other. A few dusty pieces of furniture stood about, whether for sale or for use, Chris could not determine. An almost lost in the black shadows at the far end appeared to be boxes and bales piled one upon the other. The growing silence, now the bell had stopped, gripped Chris. A chill made itself felt in his feet and spread rapidly over his body so that he gave a convulsive shipper. He was about to turn and go out when, at the farthest end of the gloomy shop, but small priblos oblong of light seeped for a little way across the floor and a door opened. Fascinated, Chris stared as into this distant powder stepped the short and remarkably spidery figure of a man. Mr. Wicca's back being toward the source of light, Chris could not see his face. The figure paused with a fragile hand so he got bigger than that of a child in the door handle and then came forward. The silence, Chris noted, was still unbroken as Mr. Wicca advanced toward him and shuddered again as he stood waiting and watching. But whether it was with cold or with fear, and the room was indeed very dark and unerred, it would have been hard to say. Mr. Wicca would come within a few feet of Chris the final vestiges of daylight from outside reached the extraordinary man facing the boy and for the first time Chris was able to examine the old man, it was more legend than fact throughout Georgetown. William Wicca's face in itself was not forbidding, what made an icy mouse seem to run the length of Chris's spine was the impression of enormous age in the appearance of the man confronting him. The thin lips crackled withered and multi-wrinkled cheeks in the ghost of what had once been a smile. The nose once hawk-like and proud and noting strength of character and purpose was now pinched by the ever-tightening fingers of a perception of years. The double fans of minute wrinkles breaking from eye corner to temple and joining with those over the cheekbones were drawn into the horizontal lines across the domed forehead. Little tufts of white fuzz above the ears were all that remained of the antiquarian's hair but what drew and held Chris's gaze were the old man's eyes. Millian Easter Wicca's eyes were not those of an old man at all. They had the vigor of a man in the prime of life and their presence in that puckered face of age which confronted Chris was horribly disconcerting. Chris blinked and looked again. Yes, they were still there.  He was encouraged by the friendly eyes. Chris could not help but like those eyes even though it was hard to believe they belonged to the man before him. As though from a great distance, he came into his ears and this too first found difficult to credit. There, not four feet in front of him was the old shopkeeper and yet the high, thin voice might come from anywhere else. The rafters, the room beyond the lightened door, anywhere. Well, my boy, you wanted something. Chris swallowed and his voice came back to him. Yes, sir, he said. I saw your sign and I know a boy who needs the job. He looked at Mr. Wicker as though he was unable to look elsewhere. He's a schoolmate of mine. Jackie Harris' name is and he really needs the job. I wondered Mr. Wicker's eyes, laughing at him just a little. Confused, Chris, and he began to stammer. I just wondered if the place was still open. Mr. Wicker studied Chris for a long time. What he saw was a fresh, cheeked lad tall for 13, sturdy with sincerity and good humor in his face and something sensitive and appealing about his eyes. His cheeks showed obstinacy and tenacity, his nose would shape itself well. As he grew older, unruly Tony Hare was blown and ruffled in every direction in his hands, even young as he was. Showed ability and strength.  Yes, the job is still open, young man. But while you're here, why not apply for it yourself? Chris, somewhat less ill at ease, now he's got this message out, shifted his feet and gave a short laugh. Oh, no, thank you, sir. You see, I don't really need it and J.K. does. It wouldn't be fair for me to take it if J.K. has a chance. He looked away and saw the delight from the distant hiding room was jumping and flickering on the shattered walls.  Of course, Chris added unconsciously, I don't know what the job is. You don't say on the sign and J.K. isn't awfully well. He has twisted foot and it makes him slow and walking. Would that interfere with J.K. just getting the job, sir? Chris inquired. Reply was slow and coming and Chris heard as if the words had been spoken not before him where the black outline figure still stood. But as if it is very ear, soft but clear, the words sounded. Interview, Christopher, my boy. But now that you are here, you must make the test. J.K. will be cared for. Never fear. Almost as if in a dream, Chris felt an atmosphere drenching him as though his powerful scent filled the air. His head swam a little and he realized that it was a long time since he had lunch. He thought he detected a pleasant smell and the herb was like the potpourri his mother had in bowls in their house. The sharp black outline and Mr. Wicker impressed itself on his eyeballs and in the room now totally dark except for the light that streamed from the far away open door. Mr. Wicker's body seemed to radiate a bright edge like a carbon paper held up to the sun. The voice that did his ear once more filled his head with his hearing. You will make the test, my boy. Just turn around and tell me what you see at my window. Chris, in spite of the strangeness rising above him like a mist, remembered very well what lay outside the window. But even as he slowly turned, the thought pierced his mind. Why did he not see the reflection of the headlights of the cars moving up around the quarter of Wall Utter Street, not the hill toward the traffic signals? And why had the sound of wheels of gears and of horns been so completely muffled out? The room seemed overly still. Then in that second he turned and faced about the wide bow window was there before him and three objects he liked best showing frosty in the moonlight that poured in from across the water. Across the water? Where was the freeway? It was no longer there. Nor were the high walls and smokestacks of factories to be seen. The warehouses were still there. They were the very same for Chris could make out the winch and tackle he then used those as he opened the door. But instead of factories instead of the freeway the river flickered silver under the moon and poles and mass of countless ships broke the starry sky. Flabbergasted and breathless, Chris was unaware that he had moved closer to peer out the window in every direction. No electric signs, no lamp lit streets, going as far as a wall to his left and leading forward Chris looked up towards M Street where the people's drug store had stood but half an hour before rose the roofs of what was evidentially an inn. A courtyard was firstly lit by flaring torture to. Showing the swinging sign hung on a post. The post was planted at the edge of what was now a broad and muddy road even as Chris stared not knowing whether to believe what his eyes saw or not. There was a great sound of hooves and a cracking whip . A coach with its top piled high with luggage stamped to a halt beside the flared courtyard. Authors ran out to hold a team of horses streaming in the cooled night air and link boys carrying torches and orange lanterns ran out to help the travelers in. A coachman wore knee breeches and a cockated hat. Two gentlemen got down from the interior of the coach stretching their cramped legs. Chris could catch the shine as lantern glow touched the silver buckles on their shoes. Their full back coats were slainly lifted on the left by the tips of their rapiers and a fraud of white lace or muslin fell from their necks onto Satan's waist coats. They moved into the inn and the coach rattled off to the stable before the window farm carts rumbled by and instead of the brooded outline of Georgetown roofs we could see only a few chimneys against the stars and many lofty trees. What do you see, boy? Asked the voice so gentle at his ear. Chris frightened and downfounded shook his head. I will tell you. Mr. Worker said my window has the power for those few who are to see. You are looking back into the past, my boy. Then the coldness, the strangeness, the fluttering of the light was too much for Chris. Blackness descended on him as if a hood had been dropped over his head. Before he was quite gone he heard what he thought was Mr. Worker's voice saying kindly you will do. And Mr. Worker's window, Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of Mr. Worker's window. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is made by Arthapiantidosi of Los Angeles, California February the 15th, 2010. Mr. Worker's window, Chapter 4 When Chris came to himself he awoke from sleep and lay for a moment without opening his eyes. He waited with his usual sense of irritation for an Rachel's step at the door and a voice saying, get up Chris, you're late again. But the step did not come and feeling rested and hungry and Chris opened his eyes. What was this? The high regular walls of his bedroom were not around him, nor the familiar furniture. Chris sat up rubbing in his eyes as if this would help clear his vision and looked about him. He was in a narrow bed in a small sunny room, an attic room it would seem to be, for the walls slanted down in two different sharp angles from the low ceiling to the broad wooden planks of the floor. Two dormer windows projected from the room beyond the roof making two niches in the wall across from where Chris lay. And a third window in the wall above his head showed that the room as well as being at the top of the house was also at a corner of it. A door was just beyond the foot of the bed, a chest of drawers and a table with a blue and white porcelain washbowl and pitcher and stood along the farther side. Wooden pegs were placed at hand level here and there, and a rag rug and bright colors laying on the floor by the bed. The walls were white and the sunlight poured in to dash itself upon the floor and splash up the walls in irresistible gaiety. There was no doubt about it, bare though it was, it was a pleasing room, snug, clean and cheerful and well suited to a 13 year old boy. Chris half smiled as he looked leaning on one elbow and then his smile faded as he caught sight of the chair and what it held. The only chair in the room was laid with carefully folded clothes, but they were not Chris's clothes. Chris jumped out of bed and then looked down with a quick startled intake of his breath. He was wearing a white night shirt, something he had never even seen before and barely heard of. He is prolonged and cuffed and the night shirt fell in linear lines to his feet. Callie Moses! Chris explained, named, completely baffled. He returned to the examination of the clothes that were obviously laid out for him. There was a fine white shirt with foul sleeves and turned back cuffs. White cotton stockings, knee breeches of a blue gray worsted material and matching frock coat with silver car buttons. Below the chair Chris saw was a pair of black leather shoes with polished silver buckles. Fancy dress, huh? Chris murmured and then as if he had been slapped into full awareness came the remnants of the night evening before. Mr. Wicker! Enough of the dark flickering shop. Chris sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed, his mouth in spite of all his efforts drawn down at the corners and his eyes blank with confusion and misery. Chris said and stared at the clothes he still held in his hands. Then another idea struck him and he jumped up to run down the nearest dormer window with the floorboards where the sun had lain on them warm under his bare feet. But no. No freeways. No factories. The window looked out over Water Street, skirting the edge of the atomic banks and there below Chris's amazed eyes rose a forest of mast and spars of ships and along the shore. Water Street below him was swarming with activity, but not the activity that Chris had previously known. Men dressed in the same sort of clothes as those laid out for him pushed cotton bales, rolled hogs heads along to the docks, or rode out to ships anchored in midstream. Most of the seabed doors were hatless and Chris snickered at the sight of the short braid of hair at the nape of their necks. Many war brilliant scarves tied around their heads, red or mustard yellow or green in the sound of deep voices swearing, laughing or rising in unnerve sea chanties. Excited Chris and sent the blood tingling along his veins he rushed to the high placed window overlooking Wisconsin Avenue. No create bridge was to be seen in the distance only stretches of field and orchards scattered with occasional houses of russet brick and when he craned the end where the people's drug store ought to be a sign swinging high above the road Wisconsin Avenue Chris had to laugh if it could see itself only a wide muddy road full of ruts and puddles along which someone's line of geese was waddling impervious to cursing carters and riders on horseback. A little below him Chris could see the two old warehouses he remembered from the night before but now they look quite new with their brickers bright and their walls solid barrels had been lifted by the wind should tackle into the upper loft and Chris watched the busy scene for quite some time his rolling stomach and a simultaneous smell of food reminded him of his hunger dressing quickly in the strange new clothes he opened the door and peered outside his bedroom door was at the top of a narrow rolling stair that twisted away to the left out of sight it was deep and Chris soothed silent an intent on the top step listening a deep woman's voice was on a very well under doo-doo-doo you Spanish ladies came rolling up the stairwell to the accompaniment of a brisk clatter of pots and pans but rose also to Chris's nostrils with the smell of newly baking bread frying bacon in wood smoke and the combination put an end to his decision for a while he decided to call the truce to any attempt at solving a mystery in which he found himself and following his nose when softly down the stairs rounding the last turn of the staircase Chris remained in its shadow while he stared with unbelieving eyes of the Roman figure before him if this is a dream he said to himself it's the best one I've ever had very best what confronted Chris was Mr. Wicker's kitchen this room took of almost the whole side wing of the house across from Chris two casement windows showed the shrubs and flowers and white picket fence of Mr. Wicker's garden and it is left was the back door opening onto Water Street flanked by two smaller windows these seemed most inviting each possessing a window seat from which one could watch the busy comings and goings of the docks with a view of the ships beyond but what drew Chris's eyes and made them grow round with wonder was the extraordinary figure in front of the fireplace the vast deeply set fireplace was in the wall at face the back door so deep it was that there was even a bench on one side of it and over the smoking logs were hung all manner of tributes spits and cooking irons it wasn't short a fireplace it just Triss had never dreamed of yet the tall Buxom women stirring hising pots and singing to herself was what held Chris rooted to the last step of the static stare the woman stood easily six feet broad and brawny enough to be a match for almost any man countless yards of spruced cotton must have gone into the making of her dress to say nothing of her apron a mastiff fichu of freshly laundered muslin went around her neck and was tucked into her bodice a white turban was her on her head but on top of the turban Chris simply could not believe his eyes as he counted rapidly on top of this amazing woman's head was a gigantic hat supporting 12 with 4 roses and 12 waving black plumes Chris's jaw dropped at the sight of the turban tattered head the flowers bobbing and swaying the ostrich plumes blowing and curtsying with every slightest movement as it blissfully and aware that her costume was not the usual one for cooking the woman hummed and stirred tasted and hung up a burledo but the sight was too much for Chris before he could stop in a shout of laughter it slutted from his lips he laughed and laughed in the indignant expression on the woman's face when she turned to stare glaring at him with her hands under jutting hips only added to Chris's laughter at last sobering up someone as he realized that his behavior was rude to put it mildly Chris stopped and caught his breath shaking only now and again by finishing paroxysm seeing the spark of bad temper in the red face of the enormous woman Chris decided to pour oil on the troubled waters good morning ma'am I'm Chris Mason from upstairs and I'm sorry I laugh so loud I we floundered and grabbed desperately at any passing idea I saw something comical out the window there he pointed wildly and it just set me off I hope I did not disturb you mollified though not entirely the woman had accepted this effort at peacemaking and her face to use a little well now so you're awake at last and hungry being a boy I don't doubt she moved to the dresser and took down a plug and plate those as an ostrich plumes moaning in agreement so you were Chris did you see Christopher that would be and I am Mr. Rebecca Boozer should you be wanting to know Becky Boozer they call me she bustled over to a covered bowl dipping out creamy milk with a long handle dipper bread and butter and bacon in front of Chris's table pulled up with condos seats it's up now young man Becky Boozer advised every rose and feathered sending her words for Mr. Worker will be wanting to see you when you are done it's late past eight of the clock she glanced out the window it might just be possible that Mr. Asda Siley will be passing by before long for a mid-morning snack and here I am gossiping with you instead of getting on with my work stay with the will looking around as you tune the spotless brick floor and starch curtains at the windows the shining copper pans hung beside the bulge fireplace were proved to Becky Boozer's housekeeping don't you have an ice box? Chris asked his mouthful what may that be Becky asked sharply to keep the food cool Chris answered Becky stopped to consider this her hands and her hips on the cool side of the house if that be what you mean keeps the food pretty well up on April or May then the heat makes everything go oh the heat prosperity in Maryland where I come from and all the Seacuff says it is was never like this a table with a wooden tub and dishes stacked nearby caught Chris's eye buckets of water stood between the table and presently Becky Boozer took off small pot of steaming water from a hook above the fire poured it in the tub and dipped cold water from one of the buckets into a system as thought as he watched Becky busy with her dishes thinking of the neat white kitchen he knew at home allowed he said if you had a little wooden troth that led from that tub through the window there you could pull out a bung when you were ready and the water would run out doors I would say to you carrying that great tub about when you were in a hurry Boozer rested her soapy hands on the edge of the tub and looked at him admiring off her shoulder I would never have thought it and she said by the look of you never in this world you have brains young lad that's what you have a better idea than that I never heard indeed it is just what I've been needing since years and that simple I might have thought of it not myself I shall sit master silent to work on it when he comes he's right handy with tools is Ned silent at this moment a short knock sounded on the back door and the instant change came over Becky Boozer it was impossible to imagine that anyone as ponderous as Becky could be coy but that the sound of the knock this is what she became wiping her hands hastily in one of her many patty coats she pushed those done pulled at her hat which remained immovable straightened her to chew and stripping her dress he minced her huge bulk to the door with a welcoming smile a little man scarcely higher than Becky's barrel chat waist with a rolling sea-guide and twiddling blue eyes bounced into the room and strained up on a tiptoe towards Miss Boozer's placing cheek crisp behind the opening door and not yet proceed come now Becky my love shouted silently the sailor in a good humid row how can I start the deer out without a kiss from my boozer Becky blushed and sippered and cast down her eyes get along with you silently was a way to behave she had mommished to light it in the bath see this company here she pushed her toot her off with an elephantine shrug of interest to Chris Chris was feeling the contagion of laughter catching up with him again at the scene he had watched was glad when the sailor turned and came over to where he sat a visitary well well of a ship no no Becky put in quickly and gave Chris a look he is a friend of the masters from she searched her mind from another part of the country he called here last night and slept late as you've seen indeed and indeed said the sailor settling himself comfortably and is it for a long stay in his chair and the preserving Chris through his keen blue eyes well young man you know it's genely I am sailor he said stretched out a hard brown hand Christopher Mason Chris said in return and they saw both hands taking account of each other as men do when they meet I shall sit here master Becky your leave sadly crowded out as if Becky Boozer were a mile away to keep this lot company as it were so you shall Becky answered warily smiling broadly wrinkles of pleasure in their corners of her eyes and could I tend to with a mole so master Siley Ned Siley appeared to consider this invitation a science before he gave his reply cocking his head on one side like a parrot as he reflected finally answered how could I refuse when I know your fame as a cook he said with a silent Becky and a wink at Chris and put his horny forefinger and thumb their distance of thread apart but the claw master's Becky a morsel a taste just to pay more respects to your art as it were then such commotion took place in the kitchen Chris much flabbergasted as Becky set before Siley a meat pie a large cheese fruit preserves two kinds of bread cakes and cookies, latees, tarts and pickles and jars with a beaming smile Becky threw from the cask a junk full of ale which she set down on the table with a thud just a mole so master Siley she added adding a coaxing chair try just a taste please me then Siley his eyes winking with anticipation and smacking his lips attack the meat pie and the cheese, tarts and pickles with a will here, tra das keeping the boy's plate as lavishly as his own and the two ate in silence and gusto while Becky stood by with roses and feathers bobbing you must keep your strength up Ned Siley for it is a hard life you lead she warned him Ned paused long enough to swallow and thought it is thought it is he agreed, egging his head, shamping his jaws and digging into the food a hard life as a sealer Ned said with an effort at sorrow which failed signally and he took a great groth of ale after a while and Siley slowed wiped his mouth with his hand and leaned back in his chair rolling a dazed eye at the anxious face the waking Becky boozer Mistress boozer announced I am a new man he heaved his sigh of repression ah you have saved me again ah mistress Becky what a treasure you are Becky curtsluit and giggle hehehehehe her fabulous hat shaking as if with a secret all its own just then a bell tingled at the end of the as it that will be the master Becky said bustling away then she turned I shall be back master Siley I pray you do not leave Christia's dis-opportunity please master Siley you said leaning across the empty plates in his interest why does she wear that queer hat master Siley cocked an eye at the boy before him picked comfortably his teeth with an iron nail and he took for his pocket and loosened his belt buckle ah he said so you've not hurt quick then I shall tell you for that is truly a tale a sailor stretched back in his chair one hand holding the mug of ale his short nose and red worn burn sheik seemed his share of the joke with his eyes as he finally leaned forward across the table with an air of conspiracy and Mr. Wicker's window chapter 4 and chapter 5 of Mr. Wicker's window this is a liver box recording all liver box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liverbox.org recorded by Arthur Piantodosi Los Angeles, California February the 16th 2010 Mr. Wicker's window chapter 5 well no began Siley that's a tale not everyone knows don't you see and Mr. Speckett would not care to be reminded of it mark you for reasons I shall short let tell his eyes, humorous as they were took on a shrewdness under their sandy brows as if judging the character of the boy before him the secret first and foremost he said you must know who I am you need back and hooked his thumbs under his armpits in a prideful gesture my lord suddenly sitting sitting at his chin, I'm a member of the Mirabelle's crew the Mirabelle Chris had slain why that's a ship in the bottle aye agreed Siley not insanely the model of it also right enough since it's myself that made it the last trip home from the Chinese seas you made it yourself Chris breathed looking aghast at the gnarled knotted fingers thick and roughened by work and weather imagining to himself the delicacy of the miniature ship that lay so snugly in its transparent walls how in the world could you get it inside yes Ned wagged his head ah it is a trick and a tedious thing no mistaking, but there's time and despair for it coming hard on from China China? you've been there, what's it like Chris wanted to know, his eyes eager Silly smiled at him a snaggle tooth friendly grin that's a tale for another time my boy for there's much shilling near you want the story back as fine hot yes, yes we'll know again Siley being a member of the Mirabelle and all means I see quite a bit of this pork when we're home he looked arch as if this was no the reason for that unseen as who Mr Spickey and Mayan for his friends will she has told me a thing or two that not everybody knows he took a pole in the mug and wiped the fraud from his lips, that seems he began then in the younger days Mr Spickey had won craving she's seen this hatching in new worlds what a millionaire's inhabit she must no sailors leaning forward as that story held his own interest now half of that sword cost me only a shilling and Becky worked and saved for that bonnet for over a year he eyed Chris again closely if you tell what I tell you, Chris Laud Siley conjured him I shall get him even with you, I swear I will but I will never want to hurt the feelings of Becky Boozer on my oath I'll not tell sir, not to anyone Chris assured him needs to only seem that satisfied well no it seems at long last you paid for that bonnet and decided to wear it to the spectacle that area afternoon the spectacle Chris asked him what's that you are a country boy what a spectacle what the players are the theatre, what else oh television and movies and all this tongue he was beginning to try to fit himself into two centuries before his own time yes, took up Siley so as I was saying Mr. Boozer being young and flat on them days and rightful proud of the bonnet she took so long to earn wear it to the spectacle together with their best gown now as you see not acquainted with the theatre my lad let me tell you that we give it here in any hole, stand and make it of course in fair weather we set the benches in rows for those that pay for seats he pulled out an evil smelling clay pipe and stuffed it with tobacco tamping it down with one grabby forefinger and when it was well lit pointed the stem at Chris by way of emphasis Mr. Specky gets herself a good place on this occasion and seems herself doing tossing other feathers and other flowers and his proud is a peacock every inch of her the people pock the benches and the gins rightly in Siley rightly only laid out equality rare such hits as how Beccy wore and should they go to the spectacle which would be doubtful for the crowd makes no place for a gentle woman they would be sitting off apart don't you see but Beccy starts banging the centre of the hole and you've seen that it is being up for two and no mistake and spreads alone as well as out well the time came to begin the players came out on the stage as speaking of their parts and a brandishing of their arms as they do when all at once a gentleman sitting behind Beccy Boozer leaned forward and asked her ever so polite madam says he please be so good as to move your bonnet here Siley leaned forward one hand on the shoulder to facilitate a bow aping as best he could the speech in manners of a gentleman in a flash he resumed her his own character well did you take it off that demanded of Chris frowning with concentration who was asked with a rare flatness anyone would agree to that he shook his head solemnly one no master cursed her that she did nut or Beccy had just paid the final pence upon that hat and after a year seven months and eighteen days that was hers she went on to the all but holders to admire it what cared she if the gentleman seated on the bench behind there saw more of her bonnet in the play in Beccy Boozer's opinion it was more than fair its change so she tossed her head did back in dying not even over a play Siley tossed his own son and plenched his stache and pursed up his mouth in imitation of Beccy then with another rapid change of grimace he squinted up his eyes to signify the growing intensity of the situation and leaning half way across the table shoved the dishes, pies and pickles out of his way with his elbow shhhh the voice sang to us, you whisper so the performance went on and neither a glimpse of it did the poor gentleman see he seated as he was behind our Beccy Boozer so once more he bends forward and speaks at her ear or to luck Siley's eyebrows rose and fell with his agitation so strong was the grip of the story upon him it was evident that he fancied himself at the play and could see the whole thing before he misplained his day the poor gentleman says again he took up madame I beg of you please to be so kind nothing respectable can I see please it'd be so good and to just remove your hat on the odd you believe it my lad then Siley shook his head from side to side no no you would not he leaned back waving his hand as if to wipe away and he lingering down in Chris's mind Mr. Respect Beccy Boozer was that proud, that proud that not for the word which he removed but bonnet dear me no she tossed her head again feeling all them plumes a toss and two and sat up straighter than the four and she a tall woman and as through Siley took a lead bend and a handkerchief from his coattail pocket and mopped his face so excited and heated had he been calm at his own telling of the tale then once more he leaned forward confidently well little did she dream for when she tossed her head the second time and made no motion to remove her hat the gentleman bent toward her and no doubt his words were for her alone and this is what he said and Siley's blue eyes popped and he cupped his hand on the side of his mouth so that his words could carry no further than a few inches dividing a boy and the man he said and so she told me it did sound like a roar of thunder no no one else seemed to be aware of it so then Rebecca Boozer where are your hat the gentleman then said the devil himself shall have no power to take it off in you and do you know now it spread Siley in a roll rumble with his eyes starting out of his head as if we're at Chris's own it is out of belief it must have been the devil himself who sat behind her from that very time Rebecca Boozer has been unable to remove that hat neither by pushing, pulling, praying praying, steaming cutting, tearing nor by any method whatsoever the devil it was the devil it must have been Master Siley exhausted by his recital fell back in his chair with just enough strength left to replenish his buter mug from a jug of oatmeal then refreshed he set the mug down wiped his lips and cocked an eye at Chris who stood bearing in his open mouth try it yourself he suggested wagging his head I have, you'll not be able to leave it off I promise you that hat is there for good and all muster his boozer or dealtlessly be buried in that bonnet he cocked his head the other way and what do you think of that it's Siley inquiring after a long and thoughtful pause Chris found his voice Master Siley he said respectfully does she sleep in it yes the picture of the elephant time Becky boozer with the counter pain under her chin and the hat with 24 red roses and 12 waving black glooms rising above the pillow took hold of the sailors fancy he tipped back in his chair and lapped till he cried and as he was cropping and spluttering Mistress boozer herself came rustling out of the passage be off with you boy she cried you and Siley you're too of a kind that's plain to be seen she looked from one to the other and Chris decided it was a good thing for him that Becky likened him to the object of her doting Master Siley get along with you she cried again pulling just out of his chair a star collar you all wanted by the master in his study so look sharp it's down the passage into your right like he said and knock before you go in Chris started off but in the dusk of the passage you look back and time to see Becky boozer lost in tittering giggles and wild blushes as master Siley reaching up as high as his arm would go shucked her under the chin and Mr. Wicker's window chapter 5 chapter 6 of Mr. Wicker's window this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this recording is made by Arthur Pantadosi Los Angeles California February the 16th 2010 Mr. Wicker's window chapter 6 Chris stood for a moment before the closed door of Mr. Wicker's study his head was full of a story of Becky boozer's hat or he might have glimpsed it for the passage stopped at this point beyond the passage lay the dimly glittering shut up with its bow window at the far end and the door to the street beside it he might have been able had he not been so intent on Deckey's story to slip past dusty bails and cases and out into what but Chris's head was ringing with Ned Silly's tail now with all the things so different and so absorbing that surrounded him he put out his hand knocked and on hearing a low reply stepped inside the room Chris entered with his eyes round in order to take in every new sight was a small study it stretched across the back of the house the kitchen fireplace has its echo and a fireplace on this side of the wall and facing Chris three windows looked out onto the bleached beat air and dappled trees that ordered rows of vegetable and herb garden a final window at the end of the room what Chris has left looked out on a little hill behind the house Chris without thinking stepped forward a pace or two in order to look for the familiar ugly red and grey church at the end of church lane it was not to be seen there was only a pasture hemmed by woods and fine trees in the distance where M Street should be a roof or two a thin voice that came from nowhere broken into Chris no my boy the church is not yet built that will come in 70 years in 1860 to be exact confusing is it not Chris whipped about at the sound of the antiquarian's voice but the moment longer you could not see him and look towards the end of the room with interest Mr. Wicker's study was cozy and bright well worn by a cheerfully burning fire a heavy curtain is drawn back now from the windows to let in the morning sun where if a fine Roman would not be to mask the furniture consisted as far as Chris was concerned of antiques two wing chairs covered in red leather attacked at the edges with brad scented nails looked invitingly comfortable one had its back to Chris in the door and the other was empty both were drawn close to the snapping logs the grandfather clock stood in the corner between the fireplace and the first window and gave out a steady deep talk the carpet was a soft indian rug of wine chuckster and many colors red blue and gold predominating most surprisingly a steep spiral staircase a polished wood came down into the room in the right hand corner near where Chris stood and Chris wondered for a moment if Mr. Wicker's voice had come from the top of the stair turning back he saw that a desk opposite him stood between the two windows that faced the garden it seemed very old fashioned to Chris no neat folded writing paper but large bold sheets covered in Mr. Wicker's delicate handwriting lay on the open top with several goose quill pens standing at the back and a pen holder Chris noticed prints of sailing ships on the walls and candlesticks holding candles and candle snuffers on the desk table and mantelpiece a closed cover with carved door on the far end of the room once again Chris turned back to look for Mr. Wicker and do his astonishment now saw him in the chair he had thought empty a moment before Mr. Wicker his elbows on the arms of the chair and his fingertips touched slightly together was watching Chris with interest and amusement when the boys caught sight of him Mr. Wicker nodded smiling and motioned Chris towards the other leather chair across from him good evening my boy said the other man you slept well Chris slowly then self down into the offered chair thank you sir you replied I don't even know how I got to bed Mr. Wicker made a sound that seemed to indicate it did not matter breakfast Mr. Wicker asked Becky fed you yes sir and Mr. Siley he fed me too indeed Mr. Wicker's eyebrows one had an inverted V above his dark dark eyes then Siley so early well he is a loyal cell is Miss Siley you shall know more of him he fell silent observing the boys sitting on the edge of the big chair Mr. Wicker looked as if casually at the clothes Chris now wore and which fitted him as though made to his measure when he saw it seemed to please the old man for he nodded his bald head and his wrinkled multiply themselves across his face in a way Chris took to be as his smile at last he spoke again as his voice was strangely gentle and kind so kind that the forlornness Chris had momentarily forgotten that the mystery of his position puzzlement and lost feeling that reclaimed him instantly should he allow himself to wonder at how he could get back again into his own life and time was reawakened by the something he heard in Mr. Wicker's voice the tears gathered in his throat and he had to swallow and cough several times before he could reply with any degree of clearness feel well all right I guess in a way but there's a sort of spinning in my head in my stomach if I try to figure any of this out I just don't get it he shook his head dubiously I feel alive all right and the toad tasted good just now but how in the world can all these changes come about or be at home all at once he needed desperately to know how his mother was that morning he stood abruptly if I can just go now please this has plainly but firmly it's been very interesting but I his throat tightened up again and he made a helpless gesture with his hand and looked toward the window wondering if he could jump out into the flower beds and be off Mr. Wicker's voice soft with such authority that one did not question it came again and it had a healing in it sound sit down Christopher my lad he said and his eyes were kind intent and eager we have much to talk of you and I but first your mind and heart shall be pulled at ease do know who I am rest if an anxious to be off Chris none will alas found it necessary to reply you sell old stuff that's all I know beginning to feel a little trifle surly Mr. Wicker nodded tapping his fingers together yes agreed I sell old things in your time but now in this time what do you know of me as he spoke there was a change of tone as if a younger man was speaking and in spite of his impatience to get home he just looked up sharply Mr. Wicker was leaning forward and Chris felt himself unmovable under the vigour of those dark eyes nothing sir he heard himself saying not taking his eyes from those of the before him I am a ship owner Christopher for one thing Mr. Wicker drew a slow breath our merchant trading tobacco cotton, corn and flour but I am also to give Chris time to hear each word I am also quite a fine magician said Mr. Wicker Chris leaned back disappointed and scornful rabbits out of hats inquire no young man Mr. Wicker answered with no show of annoyance not rabbits out of hats that as you would say is for toddlers suppose I proved you just how bold go ahead said Chris who's only thought was still to get home but he would admire into himself a fainter of curiosity watch closely then maddened Mr. Wicker I have been in my 20th century shape so that you would recognise me now I shall regain my appearance of this time not a great change I grant you but there will be a difference watch me closely the room was well lit from three sides sunlight and firelight mingled to wash Mr. Wicker in their joint in the uppercut glow added to this the true chairs Chris's and Mr. Wicker's were not more than four feet apart Chris hunched forward yet a little more to lessen the space his space and watch for any movement however swift he had seen magicians before he told himself but what he saw was so amazing that Chris's lips parted in astonishment unblinking for the tall figure of the man before him whizzened with age and wrinkled past belief before his eyes shook off not 10 or 20 years but 150 it left him while not a young man middle-aged a vigorous man of 40 years the face was smooth out and firm thick chestnut hair was caught back with a black ribbon bow dark eyebrows were level above the steady eyes I don't believe it this brain you looked almost like a mummy before and now Chris Mr. Wicker rose from his chair and now he stood six feet no longer whizzened no longer feeble fascinating is it not a remark with a zoonic smile a good trick do you not agree Chris looking at him amazed but still incredulous yes he admitted but maybe with make up or something ah said Mr. Wicker and his voice was deeper and more vigorous too ah then we shall try another see if you can find me and before Mr. Chris's eyes Mr. Wicker vanished into thin air Chris looked about and got up he looked under the chairs under the table behind the curtains up the chimney of the spiral staircase out the windows in short everywhere and anywhere a man might hide in the great many places where it was impossible for him to be finally he stood in the middle of the room you're not here oh yes I am said Mr. Wicker's voice look on the table Chris looked on the table a bowl of flowers stood in the center a small silver tray with a finely blown glass and a round bellied silver pitcher of water stood at the other sun side a few other bound books were all else to be seen except if one could count that a blue bottle fly that buzzed lit on the flowers and buzzed again it's not fair Chris challenged aloud you've got some trick hiding place you're just not here yes I am came the voice um, Christopher Mr. Wicker told him and I will reappear at one of the parts of the room you wish, choose Chris looked around him and then pointed to the end of the window there, he said by the window there's nothing anywhere around it come back there very well sounded Mr. Wicker's deep new voice the bottle fly buzzed towards from the table flew directly at Chris's nose hit it, flew around his head and bumped into his ear did it fly? Chris muttered and made a grab at it the blue bottle buzzed towards the window swirled about hit Chris on the nose again with remarkable stupidity and blundered off once more towards the window Chris ran after it saw it on a pane of glass swooped down and felt the angry wings and heard the enraged buzz in his cup then before he could squeeze the flyer up in his handle at it free Mr. Wicker stood before him holding on to the tail of Mr. Wicker's coat and what did you think of that trick as Mr. Wicker smiling and of Mr. Wicker's window chapter 6 chapter 7 of Mr. Wicker's window this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this recording is by Arthur Piantodosi Los Angeles California February the 16th 2010 Mr. Wicker's window chapter 7 Chris was speechless and Mr. Wicker answered himself yes it was a good trick before all we talked I should like to show you one more he dropped his hand on Chris's shoulder and somehow the firm touch was wonderfully comforting to the boy you won't be ho at home do not Christopher Mr. Wicker asked yes sir, please well, let come and be for a time Mr. Wicker replied for your important work to do Mr. Wicker turned and walked back to the two leather chairs with his hand still on Chris's shoulder he stopped near the table and looked down I know that all this took a hand to take in not only the room but Chris thought a different time as well all this seems impossible to understand he paused pondering perhaps we did better sit down and I will try to make it understandable let me put it this way Mr. Wicker began when they were seated once more in their chairs before the fire you have a television set at home oh yes Chris agreed and said yes, they are splendid I know Mr. Wicker broke in but will you please explain to me how television works Chris stared at his questionnaire for a moment and then settled back in his chairs before we're at poker with the concentration well, G he stopped well, he began again I think it has to do with light rays passing through a well hmm there's an electric impulse see, I guess that sends out he stopped altogether well, golly Moses Mr. Wicker it seems to be pretty complicated to go into Mr. Wicker's smile, the wide engaging smile showing strong white teeth it is you agreed warmly is it not, very complicated you probably would not be able to describe to me the details of how the radio or long distance telephone work either for a young man Chris said to grin back when he saw that Mr. Wicker was not laughing at him but rather at the complexity of such mechanical things no sir, I guess not we're just glad to be able to use them I expect ah said Mr. Wicker in a tone of immense satisfaction quite so you are just glad to be able to use and enjoy them well then, my boy the things that I have just shown you and what I am about to show you now are parts of knowledge which have to be discovered and learned in a time beyond your own and the ability to move within time within time said Mr. Wicker stressed leaning forward towards Chris that faculty is also still in the future in the meantime it remains a rare gift Mr. Wicker put a lean hand and tap his knee you have it Christopher you were born with the ability to move backwards into time that has passed whether or not you will ever master the gift of moving into the future that of course Mr. Wicker shrugged is impossible to tell you may but for my purposes that you have been able to return this far is enough searchingly Chris have you understood what I have been saying up to now he asked I think so sir he answered slowly this ability to move back and forth in time Mr. Wicker continued is no more far fetched than the ability to send color pictures and sound across the land into your own house where you can see and hear them it is something which so far and I mean of course it has not yet been discovered but it will be he was Mr. Wicker thoughtfully pulling in his underlip with his thumb and fork finger yes it will be he looked across at Chris as if returning from a great distance but until it has been it appears fantastic does it not it certainly does Chris replied with fervor if it weren't happening to me I wouldn't believe it no Mr. Wicker and I wouldn't blame you but now you know it's rising and turning toward the table you must have your mind set at rest regarding your mother he motioned for Chris to join him you will need no only once and they say he smiled down at the boy beside him they say that seeing is believing so you will see for yourself Mr. Wicker picked up the round bellied silver picture and set it in front of Chris they say too Mr. Wicker said scornfully that crystal bowls are the things to look into perfect tommy rot this will do equally well look and see Chris bent to peer at the polished silver side of the picture at first it shone as no doubt it always did from Becky Boozer's powerful rubbing then as he watched the rounded side of the picture misted over as if filled with ice water next the center of the misted portion cleared away and as it cleared a picture formed welling up into his sight as if from within the picture through the silver of its sides Chris saw was a hospital room on a white bed lay his mother beside her were his Aunt Rachel and a white coated man Chris took to be a doctor then as if inside his head for he was not conscious of sound within the room which had grown deeply still and saw the lips of the doctor and as Aunt Rachel moved the doctor said the turn has come she will pull through but she will need careful care oh thank god thank god then as Aunt Rachel cried and covered her face with her hands she burst into tears the scene misted over once again and when it cleared the picture was merely a picture on a table in Mr. Wicker's room Chris looked up at the man who regarded him gravely is that a trick too? yes, just to make me stay he could add it more loudly no, son the man replied and his eyes confirmed his words that is how it really is my words of honor and to Chris's great surprise all at once he felt tears on his cheeks while simultaneously a great likeness invaded him and a wild washless to laugh Mr. Wicker poured him a glass of water and held it down think this all is well you can be at peace and now he went on in a brisk return replacing glass Chris had drained let us begin our talk end of Mr. Wicker's window chapter 7 chapter 8 of Mr. Wicker's window by Carly Dawson this little box recording is in the public domain recording by Arthur Piantodosi Los Angeles, California February the 17th 2010 chapter 8 Mr. Wicker's window Chris returned happily to his chair and curled up in it as if he were at home even Mr. Wicker's expression seemed to have changed and as a matter of fact it had for the relief and portion of content that showed now in the boy's face was reflected in some measure of the man foreseeding himself around on the train by the pitcher in a moment Becky Boozer had knocked on the door and stuck her gigantic hat through the opening you rang sir she had known the feathers and roses bobbing as cheerily as live things around the sleeping bin I did Becky it occurred to me said Mr. Wicker looking sideways at Chris and some hot chocolate for master Christopher and coffee for me would not be a mist this out of the morning and yet it seemed an interesting spark in the door size someone you were deliciously full of cakes perhaps most certainly most certainly sir I have a chocolate hot as it happens in some cakes new baked she bustled off in a no time return at the tray of china cups matching flower pots for coffee and sir chocolate a bowl of sugar and a plate piled piled high with cakes one corner Becky pulled out a small table and a glass of ice between the two chairs the tray was safely settled a fire given a poke and a fresh lor before Boozer removed herself and her starched dress and apron and her outrageous hat from a master's study now said Mr. Wicker pouring out the steaming drinks may she have a professional sense you should listen if you will Chris took a sip of a hot chocolate and a bite of the golden cake on and within himself he gave his attention to the man across from him I told you Mr. Wicker said that I was a ship owner and a merchant that is true but these are troubled times a revolution has had that land in its grasp times are bad and this vast land has now come all through the birth throes of democracy money is hard to come by and much needed for general washing and troops of farmers all the way from there harvesting or sowing for them and for the land will be long and costly he paused to sip his coffee and then put the stuff down destruction is so vast and to instruct and build Mr. Wicker said steering the fire that is what is slow he turned to Chris without financial help without money at the beginning of this new land and this new government that is struggling to be born this free place and this fine democratic department will fail I know of a way to say if it and you have been sent back to the past from our future, my future and yours and out of the land to help us and make it real it will not disappoint me Christopher Mr. Wicker turned burning eyes on Chris's face you will help our country get its start a wave of excitement such as you'd never known surged over Chris and he started to his feet almost upsetting the table and making caps right on the source of oh yes sir you bet if I can I'll help Mr. Wicker's face it's just satisfaction he rose to an old its hand I knew you would you said it had to be but it could be no other way but there was also his doubt your hand my boy for we have worked to do it together the two hands large and small were firm one on the other and this full of new power coming to him from the man who was handy at class listen closely Mr. Wicker said and Chris grew nearer there is a wondrous thing unique in the world in which for the benefit of this current country we must obtain its possession will mean we can pay for many things new city here tools, building materials this wonderful object is the jewel tree belonging to the princess of China Chris waited listening this jewel tree where is it going on it's a tree that grows and puts out leaves and flowers and bears fruit but here is the wonder of it and he bent his piercing eyes on Chris's intent face this growing tree is made of jewels leaves and flowers and even seeded fruit the leaves are emeralds the flowers, diamonds and sapphires the fruits huge rubies seeded thick with pearls imagine such a treasure if you can he spread his arms wide and Chris's eyes were shining with excitement imagine the position of such a plant break of a branch of it another grows and flowers and fruit much like old orange trees to bear both their fruit and flowers at the same time it sat down again the better to continue their conversation taking of such a prize would be hard enough as the worker continued for it is well guarded but there is a greater hazard he rose from his chair to walk about and his nervousness and eagerness to what lay ahead then he went on the plan here posing as a merchant clang it shoo you will see him in the town when you walk there which all shall do presently but he has some magic powers and knows me well too well Mr. Wicker shook his head and his eyes began slits of rage we have been enemies for long Mr. Wicker but he has yet to get the better of me is he after the jewellery too most wanted to know he is he heard of it the power and magic certainly but it is a secret so well guarded that those who carry knowledge of it all but myself up to this time all others have died before they can make use of it you can well imagine Mr. Wicker enlarged during his dyes to be raised to grunt Chris that the treasure that replenishes itself is beyond the price the Chinese emperor knows it well so do the guards about his palaces and so does Cleggachoo Mr. Wicker strode about breaking the closed hand of one hand and the palm of the other and Chris scrambled out of his chair to stand watching the pacing figure and it came to Chris as he followed with his eyes the black spinning coat the silver buckled black knee breeches the neat white stock and black brocaded waistcoat of the magician it came to him that he had a great confidence and affection for this man even knowing him as little as he did having to take so much on trust still in Chris's mind no smallest grain of doubt suspicion or distrust he knew without having to think it out Mr. Wicker was a great man great in knowledge and in heart reliable and kind and wise in that moment Chris put his full faith in the man he had not known for a day there is one way Mr. Wicker said wheeling about and standing still and that is where I need your help he strode back across the room towards Chris this villain Cleggachoo for that is what he is no better this villain knows me and he knows my power but my power will in a boy a lad who would never suspect then Mr. Wicker put both hands on Chris's shoulders and looked searching again then only he had the opportunity to seize the jewel tree can you learn what I know can you learn my magic magic those tricks the fly and others Mr. Wicker quietly many more well just answered after a moment's thought I got here didn't I I've gone back all those years so I guess I could he looked up with the grin at least I can try Mr. Wicker gave Chris his shoulders a little shake of pride and acceptance good lad I know that you can then there's just one thing Chris said with the puzzlement in his voice you say sir seize the tree that means just stealing it must we do that Mr. Wicker looked at Chris in his face with serene and smooth with great satisfaction in his feelings you are the lad for me he cried and Chris felt himself coloring with pleasure at the tone of Mr. Wicker's voice I knew it from the first it would be stealing boy but for one thing when and heaven willing if you reach the tree you won't break a branch from it and stick it in the ground it will root itself and grow and thrive and then Trinsys will still have dead like gentle flowers for a hair and now you said I smell a broiling chicken off you go and eat your lunch later when we'll talk again Chris went out smiling and of Mr. Wicker's window Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Mr. Wicker's window by Carly Dawson Recording by Arthur P. Antidosi In the kitchen Chris leaned against the corner of the passage and catch and wall to watch Becky hit her tasks how different from the compact white kitchen they had at home yet there was a cozy feeling about the whole age room in front of him with runny copper utensils tub size wicker basket of vegetables pots hung over the fire and the browning row of four chickens on a revolving spit that gave out a friendliness and welcome modern kitchens did not have Becky finally paused in her work long enough to glance up from under her hat Chris, now then my lad there's not yet time to eat that young belly of yours takes a bit of filling and no mistake be off you and do not go bother and Becky for a bit I shall soon call you when it all is done Chris would have liked to go outside and put his hand on the handle of the back door when a momentary confusion overtook him he wondered if in going out he would step back into his own time before he completed the work Mr. Wicker wanted him to do and suddenly unsure turned away regretfully not knowing where else to go he climbed the stairs to his bedroom Becky had met his bed and the little room looked spruce Chris walked into one of the niches made windows pushed to the sash and leaned perilously out this was to be the first of many such times that Chris was to lean out so king of this new world spread out both all of him as far as the eye could reach a vast and absorbing panorama lay beneath him and beyond him immediately below turned water street narrow and muddy while the broad wars and wooden storehouses spaced themselves at intervals along the shore beyond the sailing ships of all kinds and admired that morning pointed their bowsprits along the docks or swung an anchor along the river Chris looked down at the many vessels he could not tell one from another but names began to drift into his mind it from some forgotten trip to a museum or from the buzzages of a book read long ago frigate schooner good ships all the creek of rigging sounded and the names the harsh whip of salty winds the sights of white sails cutting across blue water Chris leaned on his arm his eyes shining if he should ever go to sea in a sailing ship what a day that would be and then he remembered that he must do so if he were ever to obtain a fabulous jewel tree all at once the dangers of such a quest were terrifying and Chris turned his thoughts away from them to look at the view where the city of Washington lay in his time were only woods and marshlands no monument no Lincoln Memorial no houses lying in the river like a great green ship he could see the island which had once belonged to his ancestor George Mason once? now it probably still did he could make out figures moving at the bank of it and a ferry pushing off from the shore what fun this was there's David chuckled out loud what a chance to see what once had been he was enjoying himself increasingly as he glanced down at the activity along the river banks so close to noon the sailors and stevedores had vanished to eat their meal and passersby were few the street was nearly deserted when along the muddy air and runny ruts of water street Chris heard a wailing cry pity the blind pity the poor blind the boy looked down and the drop below him to the road made his head swim until he refused to think of it he saw below him a grotesque figure making its way turning its head toward the houses as it made its cry was a hunchbacked man and with a wooden peg leg and a crutch tied crisscross over his snarled hair were two black eye patches he was unshaven and in a rare state of filth his coat green with age and speckled with greasy stains was talking on his one good leg wrinkling down into his shoe and his hands with long hailed, nailed fingers risk of an untone injury shudder but the sight of the man held his gaze for he'd never seen anyone quite like him before as the cripple advanced slowly past a few houses of water street here and there a window opened was opened and a coin was tossed out which the cripple held out his cap for or grubbed with his filthy hands where he heard it fall watching his progress Chris became fascinated with the accuracy with which the blind man caught the coins or found them on the road after a passing gentleman on horseback had tossed a silver piece in his direction the hunchback made his way off the corner of the stables beyond Mr. Wicker's garden the boy hung out even farther and craned his neck to see what the blind man would do from his determined guide he seemed to have full purpose feeling along the side of the barn to grab himself when he came to the back of it the cripple darted around and then to Chris's amazement lifted the corner of one black eye pouch and feared out from under it seeing no one and thinking himself unobserved the cripple nonchalantly pushed both eye patches onto his forehead fished in his pocket and began examining the silver piece he had just retrieved it appeared to satisfy his scrutiny turn it over and over though he did but to be quite sure of its value we bit tentatively on it with his back teeth this seemed to be the final test for the cripple grin from ear to ear disclosing even fewer teeth than master silly next the hunchback sat down upon a heap of straw laying his crutch beside him with a quick movement wriggled himself out of not only his jacket but his humpback too Chris could scarcely believe his eyes but he now saw that a false hump had been cleverly sewn into the jacket from inside the cripple untied a patch that formed a trap door in the hump and putting his hand inside the hollow drew from its hiding place in the false hump a small bag tied at the neck with his string then as Chris watched he counted the contents of the bag pieces of money that winked in the sun and added to his hoard those pieces he had begged that morning the bag was then retied replaced the jacket and hump put back on its wearer with evident satisfaction but the cripple had not yet completed his work holding the silver piece between the blackened stubs of his front teeth with difficulty he managed to hoist his peg leg over his good knee then after darting many a sly look all about him he unstrapped the wooden peg off the stump of his leg from the interior of the stump he pulled out an assortment of rags used for stuffing and to cushion the weight of his stump then after spreading a torn band and a shirt into her chief after him he dipped up the stump and from its hollow egg rained a shower of coins Chris looked and looked again gold and silver money flash and adding to it the last silver piece he had held in his teeth the loathsome cripple stirred the heap around and around with on dirty forefinger his mouth stretched and a cackle agreeing after a while he caught up the coins counting them over not once but many times and at last let them fall slowly one by one into the hollow peg of his stump strapping it back securely finally after looking about with his face close to the ground to make sure that no smallest coin had escaped him the cripple replaced his eye patches and heaved himself up with his crutch under his arm turning to make his way once more towards the dock and the ships his wailing cry lagged behind him like a cura dog beauty the blind beauty the poor cripple blind yet Chris now noticed that his head was tilted back to enable him to see under the patches as he went the boy was training him to see him out of sight when the resounding bellow from Becky Boozer let him know the dinner was ready hastily shutting the window and running downstairs Chris could only think of only one thing Becky he cried bursting out of the bottom stairs who was the blind man that just went by the hunchback Becky never even turned from the plate oh him that would be Simon Gosler one of Clagachu's men now he can be a sailor beats me but Clagachu has hired him for years plague take him now and she came toward the sunny table with a beaning smile eat up young man or I shall stink my cooking does not please you Chris Hurley said about proving his appreciation Mr. Worker's window chapter 9 and chapter 10 of Mr. Worker's window all of Vox recordings are in the public domain this recording is by Arthur Pianti dosing the learning of magic was by no means easy the days went by with Chris's mornings and afternoons spent in Mr. Worker's study reading books too heavy for him to lift learning incantations by heart and how to play in the simple formulae over the fire he had told his master at once about Simon Gosler his horde of money and his hiding places for it Mr. Worker though interested and attentive gave Chris the impression that what he had been told was not new to him in time Chris was allowed to run about the large vegetable garden and climb the orchard trees but he was told at the moment did not yet come when he could wander at will in early Georgetown Chris had tried it once, rebellious and bored at the now familiar ground a visible wall kept him in the confines of Mr. Worker's land a slippery glass wall he could feel but not see and in what he could discover no chink in which to put his toe to find the light of it so there was nothing left to do but work as fast and as well as he could there are rumours that Cleganchew was preparing a ship the venture for a voyage east there is much activity about his ship there is laying in stones so I am informed it is full with old haste but the ship is a fast one faster than the Mirabelle Chris therefore threw himself into all the preliminaries of his task his head swam when he laid it on his pillow at night and Becky Boozer would stand with her hands and their barrel sized hips shaking her hat until its plums and roses madly over her boys shadowed eyes and weary air for Chris was now as accepted a member of the household Mr. Worker himself and he had not been for the robust guffaws and had silly administrations of the now devoted Becky Chris's days would have been tedious indeed one afternoon when he had returned after a rest to Mr. Worker's study he saw that there was something new in the room a bowl with a goldfish in it stood on the table but Mr. Worker was not to be seen now, however, Chris was not the boy he had been in a few weeks before he went straight to the bowl to address the fish Sir, he said to the goldfish I am here what should I do first a goldfish might have almost been said to have changed its expression and smiled before brushing a drop of water from his sleeve Mr. Worker stood beside the table smiling how you've improved my boy he had exclaimed it is now time for you to try this is as good a change as any all at once at the immediate prospect of really changing himself into some other form Chris became frightened his hands grew cold Sir, do you really think I should know how? he cried gazing up into the face of his master suppose I change and can't change back Mr. Worker shook his hand with a smile never fear Christopher you should know enough to start and I feel you will be quite able to change back again if I get stuck I can help you come now he said putting out his hand touched Chris's shoulder in a reassuring way here you go remember incantation 73 book 1 it's just stared at this fishbowl empty now you remember incantation 73 book 1 quite well but his knees began to tremble and he stood as paralyzed Mr. Worker waited patiently beside him for a few moments for Chris to get up his courage then as nothing happened with a voice like a whip he said start it once Chris was so startled and as usual gently imagine his tone without further thought or effort on his part he began intoning to himself the words and sounds of incantation 73 book 1 as he went on concentrating on becoming a gold vision the bowl on the table he became aware of a humming sensation in his head this grew until it seemed that all his body was filled with a strange new vibration tingling with his feet to the crown of his head the sensation spread faster and faster his head swam and he felt faint and a little sick but he persisted through the final words somewhere deep inside him there seemed a sudden lurch and a wonderfully cool liquid sensation he felt buoyant and rested and looked about only to get a wavery vision glimpse of Mr. Worker looking more than a reflection in a circus mirror than himself with the twist of his body just floated over to see that the room looked the same and rolling back he could see that Mr. Worker is peering in at him from above and smiling broadly good lord I'm a fish Chris said and he heard that words offloaded as they came back to him through the celloid of his bowl well what do you know he thought now without a feeling of pride he commenced experimenting with his tail and fins with such enthusiasm and delight at some little time elapsed before Mr. Worker's voice boomed by us by better come back now take it slowly some seventy four book one return the strange sensations flooded Chris as he made the change back to his own shape but when he stood once more at his own two feet on the carpet in Mr. Worker's study he was pleased and happy despite his weakness Mr. Worker took hold of his arm and helped him into a chair taking a small vial from the cupboard at the end he dropped a pellet into it and handed it to Chris this one seemed to smoke sniffed his smoke and drink the liquid that remains he said Chris does as he was told and his momentary weakness vanished leaving him quiet and as strong as usual there now Mr. Worker said rubbing his hands with immense satisfaction that was not so bad was it a peculiar feeling but as you come to do it more often and more quickly a change will come more rapidly and in time you'll be scarcely way out of the sensations at all you looked at his pupil with pride you will do famously my boy in another moment when you've rested we shall try another one from that time Chris became increasingly proficient and as Isabelle be groovy began to find magic a wonderful game when she and Mr. Worker played together they played this new and unique form of hide and seek each one taking a new shape turn by turn is a challenge the others power of imagination and detection soon Chris could turn himself into a limited number of things for even Mr. Worker's magic at a limit a singing bird in a cage a part of the pattern in the brocaded curtains or a section of design in the Indian rug the blue bottle fly or the goldfish became as easy as saying Eureka and on one occasion Chris turned himself into the chair on which Mr. Worker was sitting and then walked across the room on his four wooden legs Mr. Worker would laugh more hardly than he had in years at this display on the part of a student one day Chris wandered alone into the dusty shop the time had nearly come when he could walk about in early Georgetown and know that would still be the Georgetown of the past and not the one into which he had been born this afternoon a rainy one he had tired of changing himself into and out of objects Mr. Worker was busy and Becky had gone off to market accompanied by Nid Silly and Chris felt somewhat forlorn and lonely as any boy might kissed the use of wood ahead of him into the darkness of the shop going up to the shop window he stood with his hands thrust into his pocket staring glumly first out the window and then idly at the three objects he'd once longed to contemplate the Mirabelle in her bottle the coil of heavy rope and the golden figure of the Nubian boy without interest at first Chris stared at the little negro boy so gaily dressed in full red trousers gilded jacket and white turban the figure's shoes carved in some eastern style and curved up pointing toes then all at once the idea came to Chris if he was to be a magician could he make this boy come to life the prospect had cited him wildly for he had had no companion with whom to laugh and share jokes grown people however gay and kind were never quite the same the more he thought of it the more Chris knew it had to be attempted he squatted on his haunches examined the carved wooden figure attentively and felt convinced that once alive the boy would be an ideal and happy companion but how did one change inanimate to animate Chris got up and stole back to Mr. Worker's door he heard the magician going up the spiral staircase to his room above and after changing himself to a mouse to slip under the door and see that the room was really empty Mr. Dooms proper shape and opened the doors of the cupboard at the far end of the room on its top shelf was Book 3 a book with a foot thick and bound in heavy brass studied with semi-precious stones in the forms of signs and symbols with difficulty standing on tiptoe Chris lifted it down and placing it on the floor turned over page after page the afternoon rainy before the storm thus came two hours before its time thunder snarls in the sky at last Chris found it there were the words and there the charm certain elements were to be mixed and poured at the proper time he hurried memorizing as he closed the book and hoisted it once more to its high shelf looking about he found the ingredients that had been listed in an empty vial poured first two drops of this then then 17 of that and ran to heat it out the fire Mr. Worker began moving about upstairs the floorboards creaked and still Chris could not leave until the function fumed and glowed after what seemed an endless time amid a growing grind of thunder and in almost darkened room the file and Chris's hand gave off an arching rosy glow Chris his cheeks hot from excitement in the fire tiptoed out just as Mr. Worker stepped creaked on the top most tread of the spiral stair in infinite caution Chris closed the door silently behind him and running lightly forward reached the figure of the negro boy the words came out interrupted by peels of backs of thunder da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da the shop was black except for the paler crescent of the bow window giving onto the street the crash of thunder all but drowning out his words the boy shouted in the emptiness of the shop as he poured the rosy liquid on the figure made of wood and then appalled at his audacity he pressed drop the vial which splintered on the floor watching there in the darkness he shook so with nerves that he had to kneel for in the blackness lit only by the lightning in its own eerie glow the wood was changing as he watched it was as if the stiffness melted under his eyes wooden folds of cloth became rich silk embroidery gleamed in its functionality upon the coat and oh the face the wooden grin loosened the large eyes turned the hand holding the hard bouquet of car flowers moved the bouquet fall the feet of the boy twitched and shifted in their pointed shoes the gas criss remained frozen as the boys moved slowly and the final pfff of thunder seemed to split the sky apart outside the rain poured down as if over some sky were damn the roi looked down at chris with a radiant smile and put out his hand I'll help you up he said to the kneeling boy in front of him I'm aimless and as they turned the light and the dark hands told him infirm the firelight was streaming the distant door and mr wicker waited mr wicker's window chapter 10 and chapter 10 of mr wicker's window by carlie dawson miss libra vox recording is in the public domain recorded by arthur piantadosi from that time on chris and aimess were inseparable with the exception of those times when chris studied alone with mr wicker aimess during those hours soon endeavored himself to becky boozer to whom he became invaluable but over those chores chris had ever taken as his share these consisted of carrying water peeling potatoes or watching the roasting meat in case it should burn for chris had less and less time as for such jobs and aimess' laughter and wailing happy nature soon made becky spoil him as much as she did chris another cut was put into chris's room and night after night they would hang out the two mansard windows watching went on below until it was too dark to see or else they would talk by the light of their candle until they fell asleep chris now knew how lonely he had been until he sat aimess free with from his wooden shroud but warned by mr wicker he did not tell his new friend that he came from another year as yet unreach by the time they lived in it is not for a while caution mr wicker, that aimess kept used to being limba and alive as he's changing off from the car to a thin finger would only confuse and trouble him to think you do not really belong where you are let him be happy and I shall see your lips in regard to the secret of the jewel tree for that must be known to no one and so saying he rubbed his salver of chris's lips now tell me what you ought to journey after good man did mr wicker but when chris attempted to talk of the jewel tree the words would not pass his lips but remained in his mouth like a handful of marbles good then mr wicker rubbing his hands not even to me excellent stuff this he added turning into any case to contain the salve and his fingers I called it in India years ago and this is the last of it but I hardly imagine I shall need it again he's used to something a little drastic but occasionally wise mr wicker said thoughtfully one afternoon if his lessons and memorizing were over for the day of the three things in their shop window I liked best two have been explained yet the third which still interests me seems to have had so far no significance I mean of course the rope ah yes mr wicker agreed nodding and stretching his feet out towards the fire the rope very well my boy this has just come into a mind again that means that the time has come for you to discover its use go and bring it to me chris ran to get the coiled rope he experienced almost a shock when he touched it it looks harsh and course the touch of rough hemp fire but on picking it up the coils in his hand seemed almost silky certainly they were more than usually pliable returning to the study the boy put the rope beside mr wicker's chair the magician did not move his feet still stretched comfortably towards the flames his dark handsome face was dreamy and remote and chris wondered in what far away place or time his creature is your moved threatening to sat down and grossed legged with his back to the fire and presently mr wicker took his gaze from the sparks and smoked to look at him you've heard of the indian rope trick chris yes and no sir Mr replied I'm not sure how it works mr wicker gave him a chuckle ha ha ha ha indeed well let me tell you my boy no a nice little star's eye there so simply that the verkeer that is the eastern magician can climb it some claim to have seen the verkeers climb up it and vanish from sight and the rope disappear after them mr wicker we have one hand as much to say that those who had seen it couldn't believe as they pleased what called enough trick in its way consented mr wicker but this rope is capable of so much more remarkable possibilities as to throw the indian rope trick completely in the shade with one of his quick gestures mr wicker waved down for the rope and was out but out of his chair for all in one movement you shall learn last of your lessons a new way of losing a lasso not lassoing mr wicker held up a finger to stress this point that too you should learn but how to use this particular rope to make the most of its shall we say qualities mr wicker smiled a sardonic smile through his eyes and his clapping as brightly as a fire now Christopher running the rope through his long and fine hands just poached that table and into the chairs the wall that is a good lad and we shall get the sniffiness out of his rope chris cleared the room and pulled the curtains my boy out of his master for never knows but that aimer saw becky booze and might pass by at the crucial moment that you would not know what a magician is best for them when the room was safely arranged and candles in the middle of it chris returned to stand by the fireplace beside his master who was turning the rope lightly in his fingers now Christopher your attention please said the magician and his tone was crisp and authoritative imagine that you were in need of a boat and that is no boat with several twists of his hands the rope spun out into the middle air of the room and moved and twisted like a live thing and mr wicker chris thought seemed to be drawing the outline of a boat in the air with a moving line even as he this thought flickered in his mind the rope formed in mid air the skeleton of a dinghy and then mysteriously the rope added to itself until the bare struts and sides were filled in and there rocking lightly from the speed of its creation a small row boat hovered in the air as if it were tied up to a dock go and feel of it Christopher mr wicker climbed into it if you would like I have left the two ends of the rope long enough to make holes if necessary chris ran over and felt the sides of the boat it was sound and secure and no doubt of that he went all around it pounding its sides and the last teased himself over to fall into its center the boat never stirred and stamped as he would the rope bottom and gun whales resisted firmly gee mr wicker this is the best yet except for Amos golly moses and as he sat down and took up those two loose ends of rope still remaining he found that he held not rope ends but two oars even oars chris cried in delight mr wicker stood with his hands behind his back that fire out the eight outlining his black clothes a neat dark head yes he said in a matter of fact voice quite so now climb out and I will show you some of the other shapes in which it is capable a ladder mr wicker remarked as chris rejoined him it's almost too simple but can do that at any time grasping the end of one oar with movements too fast for chris's eye to follow in an instant the rope boat was a rope again coiled over mr wicker's arm now! said mr wicker and his eyes twirled with mischief the rope flew over again but this time it took a strange outline the outline of an elephant it will have to be a small elephant murmured mr wicker his hands flying because of the size of the room the elephant like the boat took shape the final ends of the rope hanging down and its tusks and tail after the elephant came a horse an eagle and a dolphin and chris's admiration and zest to learn the secrets of the rope grew with every change of shape very well ended mr wicker you shall learn in placing his hands over chris's while the boys held the rope to show him the magic twists and turns mr wicker's window by garly dawson chapter 11 end


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