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The main characters of this fantasy, young adult story are Michael angel , Wizard Howl. Please note that the tricks or techniques listed in this pdf are either fictional or claimed to work by its creator. We do not guarantee that these techniques will work for you.
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Fanny was pleased with this news. It occurred to Sophie that Fanny was glad Lettie was no longer around. Other ladies look at Lettie and despair. There was no one else much to talk to. Fanny was out bargaining, or trying to whip up custom, much of the day, and Bessie was busy serving and telling everyone her wedding plans. Sophie got into the habit of putting each hat on the stand as she finished it, where it sat almost looking like a head without a body, and pausing while she told the hat what the body under it ought to be like.
She flattered the hats a bit, because you should flatter customers. To a wide, creamy hat with roses under the brim, she said, "You are going to have to marry money! She told the mushroom-pleated bonnet, "You have a heart of gold and someone in a high position will see it and fall in love with you.
It looked so fussy and plain. Jane Farrier came into the shop next day and bought it. Her hair did look a little strange, Sophie thought, peeping out of her alcove, as if Jane had wound it round a row of pokers. It seemed a pity she had chosen that bonnet. But everyone seemed to be buying hats and bonnets around then. Maybe it was Fanny's sales talk or maybe it was spring coming on, but the hat trade was definitely picking up. Fanny began to say, a little guiltily, "I think I shouldn't have been in such a hurry to get Martha and Lettie placed out.
At this rate we might have managed. But such was the demand that she was hard at trimming hats in between customers, and every evening she took them next door to the house, where she worked by lamplight far into the night in order to have hats to sell the next day.
Caterpillar-green hats like the one the Mayor's wife had were much called for, and so were pink bonnets. Then, the week before May Day, someone came in and asked for one with mushroom pleats like the one Jane Farrier had been wearing when she ran off with the Count of Catterack. That night, as she sewed, Sophie admitted to herself that her life was rather dull. Instead of talking to the hats, she tried each one on as she finished it and looked in the mirror. This was a mistake.
The staid gray dress did not suit Sophie, particularly when her eyes were red-rimmed with sewing, and, since her hair was a reddish straw color, neither did caterpillar-green nor pink. The one with the mushroom pleats simply made her look dreary. Not that she wanted to race off with counts, like Jane Farrier, or even fancied half the town offering her marriage, like Lettie. But she wanted to do something-she was not sure what- that had a bit more interest to it than simply trimming hats.
She thought she would find time next day to go and talk to Lettie. But she did not go. It was very odd.
Sophie had always thought she was nearly as strong-minded as Lettie. Now she was finding that there were some things she could only do when there were no excuses left. If I run-" And she swore to herself she would go round to Cesari's when the hat shop was closed for May Day. Meanwhile a new piece of gossip came into the shop.
The King had quarreled with his own brother, Prince Justin, it was said, and the Prince had gone into exile. Nobody quite knew the reason for the quarrel, but the Prince had actually come through Market Chipping in disguise a couple of months back, and nobody had known. The Count of Catterack had been sent by the King to look for the Prince, when he happened to meet Jane Farrier instead.
Sophie listened and felt sad. Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. Still, it would be nice to see Lettie.
May Day came. Merrymaking filled the streets from dawn onward. Fanny went out early, but Sophie had a couple of hats to finish first.
Sophie sang as she worked. After all, Lettie was working too. Cesari's was open till midnight on holidays. But when she at last put a gray shawl over her gray dress and went out into the street, Sophie did not feel excited. She felt overwhelmed. There were too many people rushing past, laughing and shouting, far too much noise and jostling.
Sophie felt as if the past months of sitting and sewing had turned her into an old woman or a semi-invalid. She gathered her shawl around her and crept along close to the houses, trying to avoid being trodden on my people's best shoes or being jabbed by elbows in trailing silk sleeves.
When there came a sudden volley of bangs from overhead somewhere, Sophie thought she was going to faint. She looked up and saw Wizard Howl's castle right down on the hillside above the town, so near it seemed to be sitting on the chimneys. Blue flames were shooting out of all four of the castle's turrets, bringing balls of blue fire with them that exploded high in the sky, quite horrendously.
Wizard Howl seemed to be offended by May Day. Or maybe he was trying to join in, in his own fashion. Sophie was too terrified to care. She would have gone home, except that she was halfway to Cesari's by then. So she ran. It comes of being the eldest of three. Crowds of young men swaggered beerily to and fro, trailing cloaks and long sleeves and stamping buckled boots they would never have dreamed of wearing on a working day, calling loud remarks and accosting girls.
The girls strolled in fine pairs, ready to be accosted. It was perfectly normal for May Day, but Sophie was scared of that too. And when a young man in a fantastical blue-and-silver costume spotted Sophie and decided to accost her as well, Sophie shrank into a shop doorway and tried to hide. The young man looked at her in surprise.
Don't look so scared. He was such a dashing specimen too, with a bony, sophisticated face-really quite old, well into his twenties- and elaborate blonde hair. His sleeves trailed longer than any in the Square, all scalloped edges and silver insets. Would you like me to go with you, since you seem so scared? No thank you, sir! He wore perfume too. The smell of hyacinths followed her as she ran. What a courtly person! Sophie thought, as she pushed her way between the little tables outside Cesari's.
The tables were packed. Inside was packed and as noisy as the Square. Sophie located Lettie among the line of assistants at the counter because of the group of evident farmer' sons leaning their elbows on it to shout remarks to her. Lettie, prettier than ever and perhaps a little thinner, was putting cakes into bags as fast as she could go, giving each bag a deft little twist and looking back under her own elbow with a smile and an answer for each bag she twisted.
There was a great deal of laughter. Sophie had to fight her way through to the counter. Lettie saw her. She looked shaken for a moment. Then her eyes and her smile widened and she shouted, "Sophie! She turned to the girl next to her and whispered. The girl nodded, grinned, and came to take Lettie's place. They jostled Sophie along to the end of the counter where Lettie held up a flap and beckoned, and told her not to keep Lettie all day. When Sophie had edged through the flap, Lettie seized her wrist and dragged her into the back of the shop, to a room surrounded by rack upon wooden rack, each one filled with rows of cakes.
Lettie pulled forward two stools. She looked in the nearest rack, in an absent-minded way, and handed Sophie a cream cake out of it. Sophie sank onto the stool, breathing the rich smell of cake and feeling a little tearful.
She looked just like Lettie. She was wearing Lettie's second-best blue dress, a wonderful blue that suited her perfectly. She had Lettie's dark hair and blue eyes. I never told Lettie that. Did you? She could see it was Martha now. There was Martha's tilt to Lettie's head, and Martha's way of clasping her hands round her knees with her thumbs twiddling.
It's a relief now I have. Promise you won't tell anyone. I know you won't tell if you promise. You're so honorable. Lettie's got brains, and she wants a future where she can use them-only try telling that to Mother! Mother's too jealous of Lettie even to admit she has brains!
Oh, yes, I can be clever too. It only took me two weeks at Mrs. Fairfax's to find the spell we're using. I got up at night and read her books secretly, and it was easy really.
Then I asked if I could visit my family and Mrs. Fairfax said yes. She's a dear. She thought I was homesick. So I took the spell and came here, and Lettie went back to Mrs. Fairfax pretending to be me. The difficult part was the first week, when I didn't know all the things I was supposed to know. It was awful. But I discovered that people like me-they do, you know, if you like them-and then it was all right.
And Mrs. Fairfax hasn't kicked Lettie out, so I suppose she managed too. And this way gives me time to wait and see if the person I want likes me for being me.
The spell's going to wear off gradually, and I shall get more and more like myself, you see. I did too, until Father died and I saw she was just trying to get rid of us- putting Lettie where she was bound to meet a lot of men and get married off, and sending me as far away as she could! I was so angry I thought, Why not? And I spoke to Lettie and she was just as angry and we fixed it up.
We're fine now. But we both feel bad about you. You're far too clever and nice to be stuck in that shop for the rest of your life. We talked about it, but we couldn't see what to do. What's Mother been doing to you? You shouldn't talk about Fanny that way, Martha. She is your mother. Mother knows you don't have to be unkind to someone in order to exploit them. She knows how dutiful you are. She knows you have this thing about being a failure because you're only the eldest.
She's managed you perfectly and got you slaving away for her. I bet she doesn't pay you. The Cesaris know I'm worth it," said Martha. You made that green hat that makes the Mayor's wife look like a stunning schoolgirl, didn't you?
I trimmed it," said Sophie. You sealed your fate when you made Lettie that outfit last May Day. Now you earn the money while she goes off gadding-" "She's out doing the buying," Sophie said.
Her thumbs whirled. I've seen her, Sophie, and heard the talk. She's off in a hired carriage and new clothes on your earnings, visiting all the mansions down the valley! They're saying she's going to buy that big place down at Vale End and set up in style.
And where are you? Tell them. Sophie thought he looked a nice lad. She longed to ask if he was the one Martha really liked, but she did not get a chance. Martha sprang up in a hurry, still talking. She was right to be worried. Cesari seized the rack from them in both massive arms, yelling instructions, and a line of people rushed away past Martha to fetch more. Sophie yelled goodbye and slipped away in the bustle.
It did not seem right to take up more of Martha's time. Besides, she wanted to be alone to think. She ran home. There were fireworks now, going up from the field by the river where the Fair was, competing with the blue bangs from Howl's castle. Sophie felt more like an invalid than ever. She thought and thought, and most of the following week, and all that happened was that she became confused and discontented.
Things just did not seem to be the way she thought they were. She was amazed at Lettie and Martha. She had misunderstood them for years. But she could not believe Fanny was the kind of woman Martha said. There was a lot of time for thinking, because Bessie duly left to be married and Sophie was mostly alone in the shop. Fanny did seem to be out a lot, gadding or not, and trade was slack after May Day.
After three days Sophie plucked up enough courage to ask Fanny, "Shouldn't I be earning a wage? Sophie at first felt mean to have listened to Martha, but when Fanny did not mention a wage, either that evening or any time later that week, Sophie began to think that Martha had been right.
She looked round at the assembled hats, on stands or waiting in a heap to be trimmed. She took up the hat again, sighing. She was still discontented, alone in the shop next morning, when a very plain young woman customer stormed in, whirling a pleated mushroom bonnet by its ribbons.
And you lied. Nothing has happened to me at all! Then she threw the bonnet at Sophie and stormed out of the shop. Sophie carefully crammed the bonnet into the wastebasket, panting rather. The rule was : Lose your temper, lose a customer. She had just proven that rule. It troubled her to realize how very enjoyable it had been. Sophie had no time to recover. There was the sound of wheels and horse hoofs and a carriage darkened the window.
The shop bell clanged and the grandest customer she had ever seen sailed in, with a sable wrap drooping from her elbows and diamonds winking all over her dense black dress. Sophie's eyes went to the lady's wide hat first- real ostrich plume dyed to reflect the pinks and greens and blues winking in the diamonds and yet still look black. This was a wealthy hat. The lady's face was carefully beautiful. The chestnut brown hair made her seem young, but Sophie's eyes took in the young man who followed the lady in, a slightly formless-faced person with reddish hair, quite well dressed, but pale and obviously upset.
He stared at Sophie with a kind of beseeching horror. He was clearly younger than the lady. Sophie was puzzled. The man looked more upset than ever. Perhaps the lady was his mother. She went and got out hats.
None of them were in this lady's class, but she could feel the man's eyes following her and that made her uncomfortable. The sooner that lady discovered the hats were all wrong for her, the sooner this odd pair would go.
She followed Fanny's advice and got out the wrongest first. The lady began rejecting hats instantly. To the one of twinkles and veils she said, "Mysterious allure. How very obvious. What else have you? The lady looked at it with contempt.
You're wasting my time, Miss Hatter. Why did you-" Behind the lady, the man gasped and seemed to be trying to signal warningly. I came to put a stop to you. Her voice seemed to have gone strange with fear and astonishment. There must be some mistake," Sophie croaked. While the man was humbly opening it for her, she turned back to Sophie.
The shop door tolled like a funeral bell as she left. Sophie put her hands to her face, wondering what the man had stared at.
She felt soft, leathery wrinkles. She looked at her hands. They were wrinkled too, and skinny, with large veins in the back and knuckles like knobs. She pulled her gray skirt against her legs and looked down at skinny, decrepit ankles and feet which had made her shoes all knobbly.
They were the legs of someone about ninety and they seemed to be real. Sophie got herself to the mirror, and found she had to hobble. The face in the mirror was quite calm, because it was what she expected to see.
It was the face of a gaunt old woman, withered and brownish, surrounded by wispy white hair. Her own eyes, yellow and watery, stared out at her, looking rather tragic.
Besides, this is much more like you really are. Everything seemed to have gone calm and remote. She was not even particularly angry with the Witch of the Waste.
But I can't stay here. Fanny would have a fit. Let's see. This gray dress is quite suitable, but I shall need my shawl and some food. Her joints creaked as she moved.
She had to walk bowed and slow. But she was relieved to discover that she was quite a hale old woman. She did not feel weak or ill, just stiff.
She hobbled to collect her shawl, and wrapped it over her head and shoulders, as old women did. Then she shuffled through into the house, where she collected her purse with a few coins in it and a parcel or bread and cheese.
She let herself out of the house, carefully hiding the key in the usual place, and hobbled away down the street, surprised at how calm she still felt.
She did wonder if she should say goodbye to Martha. But she did not like the idea of Martha not knowing her. It was best just to go. Sophie decided she would write to both her sisters when she got wherever she was going, and shuffled on, though the field where the Fair had been, over the bridge, and on into the country lanes beyond. It was a warm spring day. Sophie discovered that being a crone did not stop her from enjoying the sight and smell of may in the hedgerows, though her sight was a little blurred.
Her back began to ache. She hobbled sturdily enough, but she needed a stick. She searched the hedges as she went for a loose stake of some kind.
Evidently, her eyes were not as good as they had been. She thought she saw a stick, a mile or so on, but when she hauled on it, it proved to be the bottom end of an old scarecrow someone had thrown into the hedge. Sophie heaved the thing upright. It had a withered turnip for a face. Sophie found she had some fellow feeling for it.
Instead of pulling it to pieces and taking the stick, she stuck it between two branches of the hedge, so that it stood looming rakishly above the may, with the tattered sleeves on its stick arms fluttering over the hedge.
Maybe you'll get back to your field if I leave you where people can see you. Perhaps she was a little mad, but old women often were. She found a stick an hour or so later when she sat down on the bank to rest and eat her bread and cheese. There were noises in the hedge behind her: little strangled squeakings, followed by heavings that shook may petals off the hedge. Sophie crawled on her bony knees to peer past leaves and flowers and thorns into the inside of the hedge, and discovered a thin gray dog in there.
It was hopelessly trapped by a stout stick which had somehow got twisted into a rope that was tied around its neck. Castle by Garth Nix. Knights Castle by Edward Eager. Castle of Water by Dane Huckelbridge. The Cloud Castle by Thea Stilton. Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi.
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