Ella Enchanted - By Gail Carson Levine Page 0,8

pottery gathered themselves together and flew into the trash bin. I couldn't believe it.

"That's about all I do, honey. Small magic that can't hurt anybody. Handy sometimes, though. No sharp bits left on the floor."

I stared into the bin. The shards lay there. "Why didn't you turn it back into a bowl?"

"The magic's too big. Doesn't seem like it, but it is. Could hurt someone. You never know."

"You mean fairies can't see the future? If you could, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

"We can't see the future any more than you can. Only gnomes can, a few of them anyway."

A bell tinkled somewhere in the house. Father calling one of the servants.

Mother never used the bell.

"Were you my great-grandmother's fairy godmother too?" A thousand questions flooded in. "How long have you been our fairy godmother?" How old was Mandy, really?

Bertha came in. "Sir Peter wants you in the study, miss."

"What does he want?" I asked.

"He didn't say." She twisted one of her braids anxiously.

Bertha was scared of everything. What was there to be afraid of? My father wanted to talk to me. It was only to be expected.

I finished drying a plate, dried another, then a third.

"Best not tarry, little mistress," Bertha said.

I reached for a fourth dish.

"You'd better go," Mandy said. "And he won't want to see that apron."

Mandy was frightened too! I took off the apron and left.

I stopped just within the doorway of the study. Father sat in Mother's chair, examining something in his lap.

"Ah, there you are." He looked up. "Come closer, Ella."

I glared at him, resenting the order. Then I took one step forward. It was the game I played with Mandy, obedience and defiance.

"I asked you to come closer, Eleanor."

"I came closer."

"Not near enough. I won't bite you. I only want to get to know you a bit." He walked to me and led me to a chair facing him.

"Have you ever seen anything as splendid as this?" He passed me the object he'd had in his lap. "You can hold it. It's heavy for its size. Here."

I decided to drop it since he liked it so much. But I glanced at it first, and then I couldn't.

I held a porcelain castle no bigger than my two fists, with six wee towers, each ending in a miniature candle holder. And oh! Strung between a window in each of two towers was a gossamer thread of china from which hung -- laundry! A man's hose, a robe, a baby's pinafore, all thin as a spider's web. And, painted in a window downstairs, a smiling maiden waved a silken scarf. It seemed to be silk, anyway.

Father took it from me. "Close your eyes."

I heard him pull the heavy drapes shut I watched through slitted eyes. I didn't trust him.

He placed the castle on the mantel, put in candles, and lit them.

"Open your eyes."

I ran to look closer. The castle was a sparkling wonderland. The flames drew pearly tints out of the white walls, and the windows glowed yellow-gold, suggesting cheerful fires within.

"Ohhh!" I said.

Father opened the drapes and blew out the candles. "Lovely, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Where did you get it?"

"From the elves. An elf made it. They're marvelous potters. One of Agulen's students made this. I've always wanted an Agulen, but I haven't got any yet."

"Where will you put it?"

"Where do you want me to put it, Ella?"

"In a window."

"Not in your room?"

"In any room, but in a window." So it could wink out at everyone, inside and on the street.

Father stared at me for a long moment. "I shall tell its buyer to place it in a window."

"You're going to sell it!"

"I'm a merchant, Ella. I sell things." For a minute he spoke to himself. "And perhaps I can pass this one off as a genuine Agulen. Who could tell?" He came back to me. "Now you know who I am: Sir Peter, the merchant. But who are you?"

"A daughter who used to have a mother."

He waved that aside. "But who is Ella?"

"A lass who doesn't wish to be interrogated."

He was pleased. "You have courage, to speak to me so." He looked me over.

"That's my chin." He touched it, and I drew back. "Strong. Determined. That's my nose. I hope you don't mind that the ndstrils flare. My eyes, except yours are green. Most of your face belongs to me. I wonder how it will be on a woman when you grow up."

Why did he think it was fine to talk about me as though I