But Tiffany wasn’t frightened, just annoyed.
“That was a nasty thing to say,” she said.
“Well, witches don’t have to be nice,” said Miss Tick, pulling a large black bag from under the table. “I’m glad to see you pay attention.”
“There really is a school for witches?” said Tiffany.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” said Miss Tick.
“Where?”
“Very close.”
“It is magical?”
“Very magical.”
“A wonderful place?”
“There’s nowhere quite like it.”
“Can I go there by magic? Does, like, a unicorn turn up to carry me there or something?”
“Why should it? A unicorn is nothing more than a big horse that comes to a point, anyway. Nothing to get so excited about,” said Miss Tick. “And that will be one egg, please.”
“Exactly where can I find the school?” said Tiffany, handing over the egg.
“Aha. A root vegetable question, I think,” said Miss Tick. “Two carrots, please.”
Tiffany handed them over.
“Thank you. Ready? To find the school for witches, go to a high place near here, climb to the top, open your eyes…” Miss Tick hesitated.
“Yes?”
“…and then open your eyes again.”
“But—” Tiffany began.
“Got any more eggs?”
“No, but—”
“No more education, then. But I have a question to ask you.”
“Got any eggs?” said Tiffany, instantly.
“Hah! Did you see anything else by the river, Tiffany?”
Silence suddenly filled the tent. The sound of bad spelling and erratic geography filtered through from outside as Tiffany and Miss Tick stared into each other’s eyes.
“No,” lied Tiffany.
“Are you sure?” said Miss Tick.
“Yes.”
They continued the staring match. But Tiffany could outstare a cat.