They arrived at the Crooked Crow well after the supper hour. The room was almost empty but for a few customers and the innkeeper, who agreed to serve the boys only after Master Henry bribed him with silver.

  The inn’s low oak beams and white cobbled walls made for a cozy change from the cold, damp outdoors. Fishbone settled down happily with a bone beside the hearth, while Digory breathed in the heavenly aroma of chestnuts that were roasting over the fire.

  “Some may call you strange, Master Henry, but none can accuse you of being stingy,” Will Button said as he shoveled a large piece of mutton pie into his mouth.

  The glow from the hearth lit up Henry Winstanley’s face, giving his dark eyes a golden glint. “They think me strange, do they, Button?” He took a drink from his tankard of ale. “And what do you boys think? Do you find me strange?”

  Digory almost answered yes, but the truth was, he had never met anyone quite like Henry Winstanley before.

  “Well, sir, I …” Digory began. But before he could finish, Master Henry reached into his waistcoat pocket. He pulled out a handful of powder and threw it onto the fire. There was crackling and a popping noise as the flames changed colors, from orange to bright blue, purple, and green! Digory and Cubby leaned forward in their seats as they watched the splendid explosion of light.

  “So, Digory, you were saying?” Master Henry continued, as if changing the color of a fire was an everyday occurrence.

  Digory was riveted by the colorful spectacle.

  “What conjurer’s trick is this that turns a flame’s color?” a man at another table called out, his beard twitching as he gave Master Henry a sideways look. “Could it be black magic you practice, sir?”

  “Nay, sir,” Master Henry answered. “ ’Twas chemistry, not sorcery, I used. ’Twas simply the natural salts that acted on the fire.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Digory spoke up. “But this thing you call chemistry, is it what wizards use?”

  “Nay,” Master Henry said, shaking his head. “I promise you I’m no wizard. Just a dabbler in wonderment, you could say. And a bit of a bumbler, if you must know.” He laughed out loud and rose from his chair. “Now I must search for a pipe and have a word with the innkeeper.” He left the table and headed across the room.

  “Don’t let the master’s carefree manner fool you,” Will Button whispered to the boys. “There’s no bumbling at all about Henry Winstanley. They say that fortune favors the bold, and that’s just what he is. The boldest and most fortunate man I’ve ever known.”

  As they rose from their seats and were about to go off to bed, Will Button reached for the long leather tube that the master had left on the table.

  “We don’t want to leave this behind,” he said, “or the master will have my head! He takes it with him always. It’s filled with his plans and drawings.”

  Digory’s eyes fell on the case. “What kinds of drawings does the master make?”

  “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see for yourselves,” Will Button replied mysteriously. He pulled a short goose quill from his pocket and began to pick at the bits of mutton wedged in his teeth. “But I can tell you this, lads. Our Master Henry carries the sun in his pockets, he does indeed.”

  Digory didn’t know how anyone could carry the sun in his pockets, but he hoped more than anything that he and Cubby could depend on the warmth of Master Henry’s smile, for now he was their only hope for a home.

  That night as the boys and their dog lay cuddled together in the stable’s straw, Digory listened to the rain splashing on the thatch above. He thought about another rainy day back in Mousehole, when he and Cubby had helped their father to pull his thick brown nets from the boat and carry them home in the rain. He remembered how his father had thrown back his head and laughed as Digory and Cubby hopped over the puddles.

  A wave of homesickness washed over Digory now as he recalled his father’s voice, so strong and deep and comforting. He would give anything to hear that strong voice now. He closed his eyes and listened, but all he heard was the sound of the raindrops beating against the thatch.

  “Why did you have to leave us?” he whispered through his tears. “Why? Why? Why?”

  CHAPTER XVIII: Toadstools and Talking Swans

  The next morning they left the inn under a sky that was washed gray and hung with sooty clouds. Though the road had fewer potholes, it was still slow going. Once they had to stop for quite some time to let a shepherd and his flock pass by: a great, moving sea of bleating black and white wool. Farther on they were delayed by a herd of cows being led across the road by two small girls. And there were times they had to stop just to let the horses rest and drink.

  The weather turned wet. A fog set in so thick the coachman had to stop to light his lamps. By late afternoon, the boys sat huddled together to keep warm. Digory was glad to see a brightly lit building in the distance.

  “Is it an inn, sir?” he asked as Master Henry leaned out of the coach window to look.

  “Nay, ’tis my house,” Master Henry told him. “We are home, lads. We are home!”

  As the sun pushed away the clouds, Digory watched curiously as they came to a stop before a grand white house that was trimmed in blue and glittering gold. It was so dazzling, it hardly seemed real.

  Compared to the small cottages back in Mousehole, this house was a palace. It had a grand entrance and many windows of different shapes, each sparkling with diamonds of leaded glass.

  As his eyes traveled over the house, Digory’s amazement only grew. For the front of the house was adorned with a large clock face. In the center of the roof stood an enormous lantern that blazed so brightly it took his breath away. Crowning the lantern was a golden weather vane with cutout shapes of a moon, sun, and stars.

  “Why, there must be a hundred candles burning to make this light so bright,” Cubby whispered.

  “It’s the most wondrous house I ever did see,” Digory said. “The master must be richer than the king himself!”

  “Welcome to the Magic House,” Master Henry called out as he stepped from the coach.

  Digory and Cubby jumped down to the ground with Fishbone bounding ahead, circling the bushes and happily sniffing the grass. Mizzen peered out with his beady black eyes as Cubby took his cage.

  “Good day to you, Daniel,” Master Henry called to a gray-whiskered man who stood at a turnstile at the front entrance. “What news, man?”

  The old fellow stroked his thick beard. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said. “Pesky problem with the tigers, sir. It’s their tails. They’ve grown much too big.”

  “Seems we arrived home none too soon,” Master Henry said. “We’ll attend to the tigers right away.”

  “Did he say tigers?” Cubby whispered, tugging on Digory’s sleeve.

  “Yes, I think he did!” Digory whispered back. “Tigers with big tails!”

  As the two continued their conversation, Digory and Cubby looked on with apprehension.

  “Come along now, lads,” Master Henry ordered as he dropped three coins into the turnstile’s slot and the old man waved the little group through. Fishbone, wild from having to sit so long on the coach, circled three times around them, then took off across the lawn and into the garden.

  “Fishbone! Come back, come back!” Digory called.

  Before anyone could say anything, the boys chased Fishbone along a narrow brick path that went under an arbor of honeysuckle and around a high green hedge.

  “You two had better stay out of trouble or you’ll find yourselves packed off on the next coach back to Plymouth,” Will Button warned.

  At the end of the path, Digory and Cubby found themselves in a garden that was a riot of glistening color. Neither of them had ever seen such an extravagance. Flowerbed after flowerbed spilled over with colorful blossoms. Each was laid out in a pleasing design around squares of brilliant green grass. There were brick paths and arbors heavy with roses in apricot, crimson, and gold. The heady perfume in the air left the boys dizzy with delight. Waves of lavender and spearmint added their spicy scent to the mix.

  “Look there,” Digory said, pointing to a miniature waterfall that emptied into a blue-tiled pool.

  “And there,” Cubby exclaimed as he pointed to a whimsical-looking blue windmill with brightly colored sails. The sound of an organ’s cheerful music spilled out of the windmill’s window.

  “And there and there!” Mizzen repeated from his cage.

  Digory was so taken with the magical garden that he almost tripped over Fishbone, who was backing out of a flowerbed.

  “Stay, boy, stay,” Digory called to him.

  But Fishbone was intent on exploring and would not stay put long. He pawed the ground, sniffed around, and bounded across the lush grass. When he dove through a cutout door in the hedge, Digory and Cubby jumped up and took off after him. As they came out on the other side of the hedge, they found themselves in another, very different garden.

  This one was a menagerie of gigantic green animals.

  “Look! There’s a tiger leaping through a hoop!” Digory cried. It was true — there were wild animals of all kinds. Monkeys dangled from trees and giant rabbits lounged on the grass. A fox dressed in a long coat and top hat seemed to be chasing a horse and rider!

  “Why, they’re all made of bushes!” Digory exclaimed as he reached out to touch the fox’s green nose. He was about to take a step forward when he heard a loud shoosh and a fountain of emerald-colored water shot up before him. He and Cubby stumbled backward, only to find another fountain behind them. And suddenly there were jets of colored water shooting up all around!

  They headed for a path that led to a small pond. As if in a dream, an elegant white swan glided effortlessly over the water. Two ducks quacked loudly from the edge of the pond.

  “Is that all you can say, day after day? Quack, quack, quack? ’Tis ever so tiresome,” the swan said irritably.

  Digory stopped and stared. The swan was talking! Cubby was so startled by the swan’s speech that he fell backward into a patch of giant toadstools. As Digory helped him to his feet, the toadstools broke into a chorus of giggles! Then Fishbone pounced on a toadstool and began to bark.

  As startling as it all was, it was wonderful, too. For wherever they looked there was something to trick the mind and delight the eye.

  “Ah, here you are,” Will Button called, coming down the path. “Bring yourselves and your dog into the house now.”

  Digory and Cubby did as they were told and soon found themselves at the grand entrance to the house. There was an ugly green gargoyle affixed over the door that closed its eyes and stuck out its long green tongue.

  “I’d rather stay outside,” Cubby whispered, his voice quivering as he eyed the gargoyle.

  “We’ve nothing to fear,” Digory said, trying to sound brave. “Master Henry?” he called as he knocked on the door with the large brass knocker. “We are here, sir. We are here.”

  The doorknob slowly turned, and the door swung wide open by itself! And the boys took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  CHAPTER XIX: The Magic House

  Upon entering the house there was neither Master Henry to greet them nor a dragon to eat them. A footman appeared in full livery, with a white powdered wig and silver buckles on his polished black shoes. But it was not his fancy dress that caused Digory and Cubby to stare. It was his silver face — for he appeared to be made entirely of tin!

  Digory smiled nervously as the footman bowed and extended a rigid arm. He then ushered them into an elegant drawing room, where he left them alone. Neither Digory nor Cubby had ever seen a room so clean, so bright, or so beautiful. Embroidered tapestries hung on the walls and sumptuous silks and satins covered the chairs and footstools. Large crystal vases held bouquets of flowers and sunlight streamed in through the many panes of the leaded glass windows. Strains of music sounded from a painted box on the mantel.

  “What are you gaping at?” Cubby asked rudely.

  Digory turned around with a start to find his brother talking to a small dirty-faced boy who looked so much like Cubby he could have been his twin.

  “I said, What are you gaping at?” Cubby demanded. But the boy only answered with a scowl. “I’ll give you my fist if you come any closer.” He raised his fist in the air.

  But this only seemed to anger the boy, who scowled and lifted his own fist at the very same time!

  “Oh, so you want to wrestle, do you?” Cubby threatened. “Well, you will be sorry, for my brother here is the best wrestler in all of Mousehole. See how strong his arms are? Come show him, Digory. Show him your muscles.” He reached over and pulled Digory closer, only to find the other boy had a friend as well!

  Digory was about to speak to the boys when he suddenly noticed the cage in the smaller boy’s hand and the blue parrot inside of it.

  “Why, we’re as witless as a couple of clams!” he said, reaching out to feel the smooth glass before them. “’Tis your own self you’re picking a fight with, Cubby! See, there is Mizzen in his cage, and there is your black cap that Zimmie knit for you on your head. And that skinny fellow beside you is me!” Both boys were transfixed, never having seen themselves in a mirror before.

  “I never knew I could look so fierce,” Cubby said with a laugh.

  Digory stuck out his tongue. They made faces and danced around as their distorted images shifted and changed before them.

  “Tar me, but … I’m growing fatter!” Cubby cried as he crouched down low.

  “And I’m growing thin as a hay straw,” Digory whooped as he stood on tiptoe.

  When they grew tired of the funny looking glass, they moved along to another room. There, a long cherry-wood table was laid with silver and china. A loaf of bread sat on a silver platter. The bread began to move by itself! Before they could say a word, the loaf slowly marched across the table. The knife followed, and then the teacups!

  “A loaf with a mind of its own,” the master said as he stepped into the room. “What do you think of it, lads? I worked on that one for ages.”

  “Did you bake it with magic flour?” asked Cubby.

  “It is not made of flour at all, but of clay,” Master Henry explained. He rapped on the loaf with his knuckle. “When I said I worked on it, I meant that I worked on the mechanism to make it move. I thought you’d find it amusing. Now, I must call for our housekeeper to get you settled in,” Master Henry said. “I will return shortly. So stay put, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything.”

  Once Master Henry had left, Digory looked back at the table. The moving bread was still now, but he couldn’t take his eyes off it. How had the master made it come alive? What did he mean by a mechanism? Digory was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that Cubby had sat down on one of the master’s thick-cushioned chairs with Mizzen’s cage on his lap.

  Just then two big wooden arms dropped down and wrapped around Cubby as the chair began to shudder and shake!

  “Thunderin’ gales, it’s … we’re moving!” Cubby cried. Indeed, the chair was moving on a track!

  Digory started after it, but before he could reach the chair, the wall swung open and Cubby and Mizzen were whisked out of the house, screaming all the way!

  “Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” Mizzen screeched.

  “Help! Help!” Cubby cried.

  Digory raced out of the opening after them only to find the chair speeding around a long loop of wooden tracks.

  “We’re going up!” Cubby cried. “And now down!” he screamed a minute later as the chair sped down another loopy rail high in the air and headed for the side garden.

  “Hold on, Cubby!” Digory shouted.

  “We’re going into the water!” Cubby hollered, holding his hands over his eyes.

  Even Digory winced, for it seemed as if the chair was headed straight for the duck pond below. But just as it was about to plunge into the water, the track swung sharply to the right of the pond. Then the chair slowed before coming to a stop.

  Digory darted over to Cubby, who looked dazed and confused as giggles floated up from the toadstools around them.

  “Good heavens, you’ve gone absolutely white!” a woman exclaimed as she came rushing toward them. “Whatever are you doing on the Mechanical Chair?”

  “I didn’t know w-w-what it was …” Cubby stammered.

  “Excuse me for not introducing myself. I am the master’s wife, Mistress Elizabeth,” the woman said. “Are you quite all right?” She lifted up the wooden arms of the chair.

  “Yes, I think so,” Cubby said shakily.

  “What’s this? What’s this?” Master Henry shouted, hurrying toward them. “I thought I told you two not to touch anything!”

  Digory froze. “We meant no harm, sir,” he said. “Please don’t send us back to Plymouth.”

  “No one is sending anyone anywhere, but you could have been hurt,” Mistress Elizabeth said, giving her husband a reproving look. “Henry, I insist you put a warning on this chair. They are not the first to take off on that thing.”

  “But no one has been hurt, as you can plainly see,” Master Henry protested.

  “He looks to be frightened out of his wits,” Mistress Elizabeth declared.

  “You’ve not been harmed, now have you, Cubby?” the master asked.

  Cubby shook his head no.

  “Would you fancy another ride?” asked the master.

  “Aye, I would,” Cubby said with a grin.

  Master Henry smiled. “There, you see, Elizabeth? This new chair of mine will be more popular than any of our other attractions, I guarantee.”

  “Honestly, Henry, you should have warned them,” Mistress Elizabeth said, shaking her head.

  Henry turned back to the boys. “So what do you think of our Magic House?”

  “Where did all these magic things come from?” Digory asked.

  “From my husband’s imagination,” Mistress Elizabeth told them. “He has created all of the illusions in our house and garden. And you can only guess what life is like living with a gadgeteer!”