Witch's Business by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

Jess saw the man turn back into the bare patch to talk to Biddy. As he could still see them, Buster and his gang were helpless. The other four were able to hurry out into the very middle of the field beyond the river, where the wind took them and flapped them about.
    There Vernon’s nose suddenly burst out bleeding. They had to stop and sit on the grass, while Vernon lay on his back soaking all their handkerchiefs in blood, and sprinkling more blood over a nearby clump of cowslips. They were all glad to sit down. Jess’s knees were shaking. Frank was bruised all over, and Martin’s lip was cut. Frank and Martin tried to explain why they had been unable to get into the hut.
    â€œBut it wasn’t electrified,” Martin kept saying. “There were no wires.”
    â€œShould have thought of it,” said Vernon through Jess’s handkerchief. “Seeing she’s a witch. Did you see that paint can miss her? And it was dead for her. I got good aim.”
    â€œAnd miss Buster,” said Jess, “at point-blank range, too. They must have come creeping up awfully quietly. I’d no idea they were even near.”
    Frank looked at Martin, because he had an idea there was more to it than that. Martin shrugged his shoulders, as if he gave it up. “But did you hear us?” Frank asked. “We both crashed against the hut like elephants.”
    â€œNo,” said Jess. “Not a thing. I couldn’t think what you were doing.” After that, they all sat very quietly, gloomily pulling up grass, shivering a little in the strong wind, until Jess looked up and said, “But what shall we do about Silas? This has been an awful failure, and I can’t bear to think of his poor face all tight and shiny like that!”
    â€œHurts him, too,” said Vernon, from under Frank’s handkerchief. “What was she on about tailors for? Would that do any good to understand?”
    â€œHaven’t the foggiest,” said Martin. “Except I know the saying. Elizabeth the First once made a joke about it. It’s ‘Nine tailors make a man.’ I get ragged about it at school—that’s how I know, actually.” He gave Frank a look which was half ashamed, half daring him to joke about it.
    Frank did not feel like joking. “But, if that’s right, then she meant Buster gave her nine men to do the tooth! He can’t have done!”
    â€œHow many in the gang?” Jess said, struck by an awful thought.
    â€œNever counted,” said Vernon, reaching for Martin’s handkerchief.
    â€œMore than nine,” said Frank. “There always seems hundreds.”
    Jess was running over people who had been by the hut. She did not know all the names. She had to do it by saying to herself, “Buster, Stafford, Squeaky Voice, Little Eyes, the one with torn trousers, the little glarey one, the one who imitates Buster, the one with black hair, the very fair one—Do you know, Frank, I think there were nine this morning.”
    â€œAccident,” said Frank uncomfortably. “Not even Buster would do that.”
    â€œIf he did,” said Vernon, sitting up cautiously, with all the handkerchiefs held ready, “then we can’t equal it. There’s only four of us, and I’m not using Silas again.”
    â€œKate Matthews might,” said Jess. “As a special favor.”
    â€œStill only five,” Martin said. “And Kate wouldn’t. She’s the silliest girl I’ve ever met, and I know she’d be scared.”
    Jess was about to defend Kate when Frank said, “So am I scared. We all should be. Haven’t you heard what happens to people who sell themselves to evil?”
    Jess nodded. “They flourish for a while, but on their deathbeds, evil comes knocking for them and carries them away despite their shrieks. Oh, Frank! Not even Buster would be so stupid!”
    â€œWhy not?” asked Martin. “We