The Witch of Clatteringshaws by Joan Aiken

had now caught up with them and, not observing the strangers, called out testily, “What holds ye? What’s amiss?”
    One of the bigger boys said, “Ay, if ye ask me, the young leddy’s in the right of it. ’Tis gey foolishness tae throw books intae the watter. Forbye, the saint didna fancy books—we all know that. Best gie him summat he can eat. He can have my kelp bun. And we can keep the books!”
    He pulled from his pocket a sandwich made from two layers of oatcake and one of seaweed.
    It looked very unappetizing.
    “The auld saint can have it for his midmorning snacket with my guid wishes. Here goes!” And he slung it, with a powerful overarm pitch, a long way out into the loch.
    Something very large burst out of the water, snapped up the bun, and sank again.
    “Weel bowled, Jamie!”
yelled another boy. “He can have mine as well, and gude luck to it!” He skipped his oat bun over the water so that it bounced seven times before a fish caught it.
    “Hech! I can do better than that!”
    In a moment oatcakes were raining down all over the surface of the water.
    “Hey! I did fifteen! Did ye see?”
    “I did sixteen!”
    “Jeannie, gie me your bannock, I can throw ’t twice as far as ye can—”
    “Children! Children!” remonstrated the clergyman. “How can ye fling the bannocks yer gude hardworking mithers have made for ye into the watter? ’Tis wicked waste and ingratitude—”
    But at that moment the clamorous crowd of children was cast into silence by the size of the creature that exploded out of the loch, sucked in most of the floating oatcakes, and vanished again underwater. Because of the fog it could not be seen clearly; water and vapor streamed off it, concealing its shape.
    “Losh,” said the reverend, “now see what ye’ve done. He’d not have come up for the books, ye may be certain of that.”
    “What
was
it?” said Dido.
    “Och, tae be sure, ’twas the Loch Grieve Monster. ’Twas a lucky sighting. Oftentimes he’ll not be seen from one year’s end tae anither.”
    “We saw the Monster, the Monster, the Monster,” the children began to yodel, to the tune of “Weel May the Keel Row.”
    “Back to school now, bairns! Ye have had enough diversion.”
    The clergyman cast a rather disapproving glance at Piers and Dido.
    “Ah—ye’ll be on holiday here, nae doubt? Ye’ll find muckle of interest in the church—King Malcolm and Queen Ethelfleda are buried here, ye ken? And besidesthat, there’s the Wheel Museum—the Battle of Follodden Memorial—the golf course—” He saw that his flock were getting away from him and hurried after them, muttering, “Och, there’s too many divairshins, too many divairshins!”
    “I’ll tell you what,” said Dido, “that was some monster! I wonder if it eats people? It certainly seemed to go for oatcakes.”
    “And I’ll tell
you
what,” said the Woodlouse, “one of those nice neatly dressed children has picked my pocket and gone off with all our money.”
    “They never!”
    Dido had given Piers the money to carry because she thought it would build up his self-esteem, which was rather low; now she regretted having done so. Still, whoever it was had probably had a go at her pocket too, and found nothing; that was a consoling thought.
    “Shall we go up to the school and raise a ruckus? No, that would get us off on the wrong foot.”
    “Tell you what’s more, Dido. See that house along there on the far side of the graveyard? It has a sign in the window saying STAFF WANTED .”
    “What a long way you can see through those green glasses of yours, Woodlouse! Let’s go and find out what kind of staff they want.”

SIX
    The Finnish royal family had been provided with a mansion in Bloomsbury Square. It suited them excellently, as they were very partial to the British Museum, which was just round the corner. Princess Jocandra was particularly interested in Egyptian antiquities.
    “There are so few of them in Finland, you see,” she