the front porch.
When Karen's eyes fell on a broom, Kristy thought Karen was going to faint. But Karen drew in a deep breath and remained upright.
"What, um, what's in this . . . brew?" asked Linny. "I mean, how do you make lemonade?" He was eyeing the broom, too.
"You just squeeze some fresh lemons . . ." Mrs. Porter started to explain.
Kristy lost track of the explanation. She was watching Mrs. Porter fill the cups. When she finished, she handed one to everybody, including Kristy. No one took a sip, though. They all just stared nervously into the cups.
"Go ahead. Drink up," said Mrs. Porter. "It won't kill you."
"Are you sure?" whispered Karen.
Kristy knew she would have to be first. She brought the cup to her mouth, trying to sniff the lemonade before she swallowed any of it. All she smelled was lemons, but she was still wary. Then she glanced at Mrs. Porter, who was looking back at Kristy. Kristy dared to open her mouth.
"Hey! This is great, Mrs. Porter!" she exclaimed honestly after she'd taken a swallow.
"It is?" asked Max, Andrew, and David Michael.
"The best ever."
Cautiously, the others sipped their lemonade.
"It is good," Karen agreed, but Kristy knew she was just waiting for one of them to go up in smoke, sprout stringy black hair, and turn into a witch.
Ten minutes later, the kids were still fine.
Mrs. Porter was seated in a wicker chair, watching them. Her broom was leaning against the chair and a black cat was asleep in her lap. "Heh, heh, heh/' cackled Mrs. Porter.
"Kristy!" Andrew was tugging at Kristy's hand. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"See that? He's sick/' Karen whispered urgently.
"No, I'm not/' Andrew replied indignantly. "I just have to go. Now."
Kristy knew what "now" meant to Andrew. "Mrs. Porter/' she began, "I'm really sorry, but could we use your bathroom?"
"Of course," croaked Mrs. Porter."Down the hall, past the kitchen, first door on the left."
Kristy held the front door open for Andrew and followed him inside. Karen slipped in behind them. "I'm not staying out there with her," she whispered.
David Michael followed. "Neither am I," he said.
"Me neither," said Hannie, Linny, Amanda, and Max.
Kristy sighed.
The kids crept through a hallway in single file. The house was dark and dreary and musty-smelling, but somehow, Kristy decided, not actually spooky. Just old, and a little lonely.
Karen didn't agree. She shivered. "I feel ghosts," she announced. "Ghosts and witches."
Kristy rolled her eyes.
It was after Andrew had used the bathroom and the kids were passing the kitchen for the second time that Kristy noticed the two empty cans of frozen lemonade on the counter. She didn't point them out, though, and she didn't say anything to Mrs. Porter. But she thought she now knew a secret about her neighbor. Old Mrs. Porter was just a lonely woman who wanted company.
Of course, Kristy thought as she returned to the front porch and looked at Mrs. Porter, the black cat, and the broomstick, you could never be sure.
Chapter 10.
I felt awful. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry.
I wasn't sick; I was just plain nervous. I was on my way over to Charlotte Johanssen's to baby-sit, and I had decided it was time to tell her that I was moving.
With a sweaty hand I held my Kid-Kit. Kristy dreamed up Kid-Kits not long after we started the Baby-sitters Club. Kid-Kits are boxes (each of us sitters has one) that we decorated and keep filled with our old games and toys and books, and usually a few new coloring books and activity books paid for out of club dues. We bring our Kid-Kits along sometimes when we baby-sit. The kids love them, therefore they like us, therefore their parents like us, and therefore Kid-Kits are good for business. Charlotte has always been a big fan of Kid-Kits, and especially of the books inside. She loves to read.
So. I had one sweaty hand and one shaking hand. The shaking hand was shaking because it was time to ring the Johanssens' doorbell. I raised my hand
When Karen's eyes fell on a broom, Kristy thought Karen was going to faint. But Karen drew in a deep breath and remained upright.
"What, um, what's in this . . . brew?" asked Linny. "I mean, how do you make lemonade?" He was eyeing the broom, too.
"You just squeeze some fresh lemons . . ." Mrs. Porter started to explain.
Kristy lost track of the explanation. She was watching Mrs. Porter fill the cups. When she finished, she handed one to everybody, including Kristy. No one took a sip, though. They all just stared nervously into the cups.
"Go ahead. Drink up," said Mrs. Porter. "It won't kill you."
"Are you sure?" whispered Karen.
Kristy knew she would have to be first. She brought the cup to her mouth, trying to sniff the lemonade before she swallowed any of it. All she smelled was lemons, but she was still wary. Then she glanced at Mrs. Porter, who was looking back at Kristy. Kristy dared to open her mouth.
"Hey! This is great, Mrs. Porter!" she exclaimed honestly after she'd taken a swallow.
"It is?" asked Max, Andrew, and David Michael.
"The best ever."
Cautiously, the others sipped their lemonade.
"It is good," Karen agreed, but Kristy knew she was just waiting for one of them to go up in smoke, sprout stringy black hair, and turn into a witch.
Ten minutes later, the kids were still fine.
Mrs. Porter was seated in a wicker chair, watching them. Her broom was leaning against the chair and a black cat was asleep in her lap. "Heh, heh, heh/' cackled Mrs. Porter.
"Kristy!" Andrew was tugging at Kristy's hand. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"See that? He's sick/' Karen whispered urgently.
"No, I'm not/' Andrew replied indignantly. "I just have to go. Now."
Kristy knew what "now" meant to Andrew. "Mrs. Porter/' she began, "I'm really sorry, but could we use your bathroom?"
"Of course," croaked Mrs. Porter."Down the hall, past the kitchen, first door on the left."
Kristy held the front door open for Andrew and followed him inside. Karen slipped in behind them. "I'm not staying out there with her," she whispered.
David Michael followed. "Neither am I," he said.
"Me neither," said Hannie, Linny, Amanda, and Max.
Kristy sighed.
The kids crept through a hallway in single file. The house was dark and dreary and musty-smelling, but somehow, Kristy decided, not actually spooky. Just old, and a little lonely.
Karen didn't agree. She shivered. "I feel ghosts," she announced. "Ghosts and witches."
Kristy rolled her eyes.
It was after Andrew had used the bathroom and the kids were passing the kitchen for the second time that Kristy noticed the two empty cans of frozen lemonade on the counter. She didn't point them out, though, and she didn't say anything to Mrs. Porter. But she thought she now knew a secret about her neighbor. Old Mrs. Porter was just a lonely woman who wanted company.
Of course, Kristy thought as she returned to the front porch and looked at Mrs. Porter, the black cat, and the broomstick, you could never be sure.
Chapter 10.
I felt awful. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry.
I wasn't sick; I was just plain nervous. I was on my way over to Charlotte Johanssen's to baby-sit, and I had decided it was time to tell her that I was moving.
With a sweaty hand I held my Kid-Kit. Kristy dreamed up Kid-Kits not long after we started the Baby-sitters Club. Kid-Kits are boxes (each of us sitters has one) that we decorated and keep filled with our old games and toys and books, and usually a few new coloring books and activity books paid for out of club dues. We bring our Kid-Kits along sometimes when we baby-sit. The kids love them, therefore they like us, therefore their parents like us, and therefore Kid-Kits are good for business. Charlotte has always been a big fan of Kid-Kits, and especially of the books inside. She loves to read.
So. I had one sweaty hand and one shaking hand. The shaking hand was shaking because it was time to ring the Johanssens' doorbell. I raised my hand
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