Ghostsitters by Angie Sage Page B

“Oh.”
    â€œIt’s all we’ve got,” said Wanda grumpily.
    Sir Horace politely left his sword at the door and sat next to me. Edmund wafted around until Wanda noticed him and said, “Ooh, hello, Edmund. Come and sit next to me .”
    Fang, who still does not realize that ghosts do not eat anything, sat beside my chair and stared up at me, hoping I would feed him.
    I was going to tell Wanda that Sir Horace was leaving and we had to do something fast, but I made the mistake of taking a bite of my gummy bears on toast first. It actually tasted quite nice, but when I went to open my mouth to speak I couldn’t. My teeth were stuck fast.
    â€œWharrrarr,” I said, trying to pry my teeth apart.
    â€œWhaaaa?” said Wanda, who was having the same trouble.
    â€œSrrr Hrrrss sleeving .”
    â€œWheerr?”
    â€œSrrr Hrrrss sleeving!”
    â€œWhaaarrrr?”
    Sir Horace came to the rescue. “Miss Wizzard, I believe that Miss Spookie is trying to tell you that I shall be leaving shortly and going to live in a quiet alcove in Catheter Cottage.”
    Wanda was frantically trying to pry her teeth apart with the end of her spoon. “Curthtr Crrrtge!” she spluttered. “Nerrrr!” Any other time I would have been rolling around on the floor laughing—but not now.
    Suddenly Wanda’s spoon worked. “Catheter Cottage! No! Please don’t go, Sir Horace, I will miss Edmund so much,” she said. “And I will miss you too, Sir Horace,” she added rather quickly.
    Suddenly I had a Plan. It was only another small one and I wasn’t even sure what potential it had, but what can you expect when you have used up all your energy unstickinggrilled gummy bears from your teeth?
    â€œSir Horace,” I said. “It’s my birthday.”
    â€œIndeed? Many happy returns, Miss Spookie,” he boomed.
    â€œAnd it’s an old Spookie House tradition that you must grant one wish to the daughter of the house on her birthday.”
    â€œWhat’s a daughter of the house?” asked Wanda.
    â€œNot what— who ,” I told her. “It’s me.”
    â€œI thought it might be,” said Wanda.
    â€œSo what wish has Miss Wizzard granted you, Miss Spookie?” Sir Horace asked with a smile in his voice.
    â€œShe promised not to ask any silly questions on my birthday. Didn’t you, Wanda?”
    â€œDid I?”
    â€œWand aaaa .”
    â€œSo what wish can I grant for your birthday, Miss Spookie?”
    Aha . Sir Horace had walked right into my Plan. I was learning a thing or two from Mathilda. “Sir Horace, my wish is that you will stay in Spookie House and not go to thathorrible old alcove—which I bet is where Nurse Watkins keeps her nurse’s bag. And that is full of all kinds of yucky stuff—take my word for it.”

    I saw Wanda’s jaw drop. She looked impressed, I thought.
    Sir Horace did not say anything for a few moments. Then he said, “I will stay in Spookie House but—”
    â€œYaay!” We cheered and then we stopped as we realized there was a “but.”
    â€œOn one condition.”
    â€œOh,” I said. I reckoned I knew what that might be. I was right.
    â€œIf those two scoundrels throw anything else at me I shall leave at once.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Sir Horace,” I said. “They won’t throw anything else at you.”
    Â 
    But they did.
    As we helped Sir Horace up the basement stairs, one of Aunt Tabby’s very best vases, complete with moldy flowers and smelly green water, landed on Sir Horace’s head. The green gooey water dripped through his visor—which is the little bit that he looks out of—and ran into his armor.
    â€œRust!” boomed Sir Horace in a panic. “Rust!”
    Sir Horace hates water getting in his armor. He clanked up the rest of the stairs at top speed and headed across the hall with Wanda,