"Jones, Diana Wynne - Chrestomanci 1 - 1977 - Charmed Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

survivors rode with them. Cat looked at them and wondered if they were witches
and warlocks, but he never found out. The Mayor of Wolvercote had set up a Fund
for the survivors. Money poured in from all over the country. All the other
survivors took their share and went away to start new lives elsewhere. Only Cat
and Gwendolen were left and, since nobody could discover any of their relations,
they stayed in Wolvercote.
They became celebrities for a time. Everyone was very kind. Everyone said what
beautiful little orphans they were. It was true. They were both fair and pale,
with blue eyes, and looked good in black. Gwendolen was very pretty, and tall
for her age. Cat was small for his age. Gwendolen was very motherly to Cat, and
people were touched. Cat did not mind. It made up a little for the empty, lost
way he was feeling. Ladies gave him cake and toys. Town Councillors came and
asked how he was getting on; and the Mayor called and patted him on the head.
The Mayor explained that the money from the Fund was being put into a Trust for
them until they were grown up. Meanwhile, the town would pay for their education
and upbringing.
"And where would you little people like to live?" he asked kindly.
Gwendolen at once said that old Mrs. Sharp downstairs had offered to take them
in. "She's been ever so kind to us," she explained. "We'd love to live with
her."
Mrs. Sharp had been very kind. She was a witch too—the printed sign in her
parlor window said Certified Witch—and interested in Gwendolen. The Mayor was a
little dubious. Like all people who had no talent for witchcraft, he did not
approve of those who had. He asked Cat how he felt about Gwendolen's plan. Cat
did not mind. He preferred living in the house he was used to, even if it was
downstairs. Since the Mayor felt that the two orphans ought to be made as happy
as possible, he agreed. Gwendolen and Cat moved in with Mrs. Sharp.
Looking back on it, Cat supposed that it was from this time on that he was
certain Gwendolen was a witch. He had not been sure before. When he had asked
his parents, they had shaken their heads, sighed, and looked unhappy. Cat had
been puzzled, because he remembered the terrible trouble there had been when
Gwendolen gave him cramps. He could not see how his parents could blame
Gwendolen for it unless she truly was a witch. But all that was changed now.
Mrs. Sharp made no secret of it.
"You've a real talent for magic, dearie," she said, beaming at Gwendolen, "and I
wouldn't be doing my duty by you if I let it go to waste. We must see about a
teacher for you right away. You could do worse than go to Mr. Nostrum next door
for a start. He may be the worst necromancer in town, but he knows how to teach.
He'll give you a good grounding, my love."
Mr. Nostrum's charges for teaching magic turned out to be Ј1 an hour for the
Elementary Grades, and a guinea an hour for the Advanced Grades beyond. Rather
expensive, as Mrs. Sharp said. She put on her best hat with black beads and ran
around to the Town Hall to see if the Fund would pay for Gwendolen's lessons.
To her annoyance, the Mayor refused. He told Mrs. Sharp that witchcraft was not
part of an ordinary education. Mrs. Sharp came back rattling the beads on her
hat with irritation, and carrying a flat cardboard box the Mayor had given her,
full of the odds and ends the kind ladies had cleared out of Gwendolen's
parents' bedroom.
"Blind prejudice!" Mrs. Sharp said, dumping the box on the kitchen table. "If a
person has a gift, they have a right to have it developed—and so I told him! But