right.
(“Oh, no!” David and Leilah said together. The Wizard just gasped.)
Mr. Pickwell came over to investigate, decided it was mice, and made a notation on his cuff to call the exterminator in the morning. Then he stepped into the back of his shop to wrap the unbreakable Indian elephant-tusk lamp base. Meanwhile the customer went down into the basement to look at Pickwell’s Pick-overs (Nothing higher than fifty dollars), the VIP bargains. The minute Pickwell left the room, the table stepped gingerly out of the window, balancing carefully so that the statue of D. Dog did not slip off. Then, with a quick two-step, the table walked past some large Victorian chairs and a grape-pattern stuffed sofa, patted a dainty schoolmarm desk on the drawer with one leg, and headed for the door. The table pushed the door open and sidled out silently just as Mr. Pickwell emerged from the back with a large brown paper package tied with a bright red string. The door slammed shut and Pickwell, thinking it was a customer leaving, ran over to the door. He leaned out and saw the table calmly walking down the street.
(“Run!” shouted David at this point. To the table, of course, not to Pickwell. But of course the table could not hear him.)
Pickwell was so surprised that he dropped the lamp, which broke into several large pieces. Stepping over the pieces, Pickwell started shouting, “Stop, table, stop, thief. Someone stop that table.”
Several people turned to look at him, but since everyone knew that tables couldn’t really walk, they chuckled and guessed it was just an advertising stunt and did not try to help.
The policeman, the same one who had stopped David and Leilah before, heard the shouts and came running. When he finally understood that Pickwell wanted him to chase and arrest a runaway table, he threatened to take him in for disturbing the peace and possible drunk-and-disorderly. He knew as well as anyone that tables can’t walk.
And through all this fuss, the Wizard’s table calmly walked to the IRT, took a token from its center drawer, and went over the turnstile carefully so as not to break the statue.
The subways going downtown were not crowded and no one was pushed by the table. Consequently, no one noticed it either. As soon as the subway reached Cooper Square, the table got off and went through the door into the tunnel. The children and the Wizard came out to the fork in the tunnel to greet it. David grabbed the statue of D. Dog and hugged it tightly.
Leilah took one of the table’s legs in her hand and shook it enthusiastically.
And the Wizard was so pleased with himself, he did a little dance all the way back through the twisting tunnel to the warren.
Once in his room, the Wizard brought out a golden flask. “This calls for a celebration,” he said. He poured a little of the liquid into goblets for David and Leilah and himself. And he even poured a little on the table top. David and Leilah watched as the liquid was absorbed. It was an amber-colored drink, yet it also reflected the light in rainbow colors, and beautiful shadows seemed to suggest themselves in the goblets.
“It’s delicious,” said Leilah at her first sip. “What is it?”
“Nectar,” said the Wizard. “The drink of the old gods.”
They finished their nectar in silence, each thinking godlike thoughts.
Finally David said, “Now all we have to do is turn the statue back into a real live dog and—” he was stroking the statue as he spoke and he suddenly stopped. “It’s chipped! The statue is chipped. Here, look. On the back leg. There’s a piece missing.”
“Oh my,” said the Wizard. “So there is.” He shook his fist at the table. “See what you did. You weren’t careful enough. Making eyes at that schoolmarm desk instead of tending to your own business. I ought to turn you into firewood!”
“It’s just a little chip,” soothed Leilah. “Will it make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” said the Wizard.
(“Oh, no!” David and Leilah said together. The Wizard just gasped.)
Mr. Pickwell came over to investigate, decided it was mice, and made a notation on his cuff to call the exterminator in the morning. Then he stepped into the back of his shop to wrap the unbreakable Indian elephant-tusk lamp base. Meanwhile the customer went down into the basement to look at Pickwell’s Pick-overs (Nothing higher than fifty dollars), the VIP bargains. The minute Pickwell left the room, the table stepped gingerly out of the window, balancing carefully so that the statue of D. Dog did not slip off. Then, with a quick two-step, the table walked past some large Victorian chairs and a grape-pattern stuffed sofa, patted a dainty schoolmarm desk on the drawer with one leg, and headed for the door. The table pushed the door open and sidled out silently just as Mr. Pickwell emerged from the back with a large brown paper package tied with a bright red string. The door slammed shut and Pickwell, thinking it was a customer leaving, ran over to the door. He leaned out and saw the table calmly walking down the street.
(“Run!” shouted David at this point. To the table, of course, not to Pickwell. But of course the table could not hear him.)
Pickwell was so surprised that he dropped the lamp, which broke into several large pieces. Stepping over the pieces, Pickwell started shouting, “Stop, table, stop, thief. Someone stop that table.”
Several people turned to look at him, but since everyone knew that tables couldn’t really walk, they chuckled and guessed it was just an advertising stunt and did not try to help.
The policeman, the same one who had stopped David and Leilah before, heard the shouts and came running. When he finally understood that Pickwell wanted him to chase and arrest a runaway table, he threatened to take him in for disturbing the peace and possible drunk-and-disorderly. He knew as well as anyone that tables can’t walk.
And through all this fuss, the Wizard’s table calmly walked to the IRT, took a token from its center drawer, and went over the turnstile carefully so as not to break the statue.
The subways going downtown were not crowded and no one was pushed by the table. Consequently, no one noticed it either. As soon as the subway reached Cooper Square, the table got off and went through the door into the tunnel. The children and the Wizard came out to the fork in the tunnel to greet it. David grabbed the statue of D. Dog and hugged it tightly.
Leilah took one of the table’s legs in her hand and shook it enthusiastically.
And the Wizard was so pleased with himself, he did a little dance all the way back through the twisting tunnel to the warren.
Once in his room, the Wizard brought out a golden flask. “This calls for a celebration,” he said. He poured a little of the liquid into goblets for David and Leilah and himself. And he even poured a little on the table top. David and Leilah watched as the liquid was absorbed. It was an amber-colored drink, yet it also reflected the light in rainbow colors, and beautiful shadows seemed to suggest themselves in the goblets.
“It’s delicious,” said Leilah at her first sip. “What is it?”
“Nectar,” said the Wizard. “The drink of the old gods.”
They finished their nectar in silence, each thinking godlike thoughts.
Finally David said, “Now all we have to do is turn the statue back into a real live dog and—” he was stroking the statue as he spoke and he suddenly stopped. “It’s chipped! The statue is chipped. Here, look. On the back leg. There’s a piece missing.”
“Oh my,” said the Wizard. “So there is.” He shook his fist at the table. “See what you did. You weren’t careful enough. Making eyes at that schoolmarm desk instead of tending to your own business. I ought to turn you into firewood!”
“It’s just a little chip,” soothed Leilah. “Will it make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” said the Wizard.
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