Mrs Whatsit, Charles Wallace demanded severely, why did you take Mrs Buncombes sheets?
Well, I needed them, Charles dear.
You must return them at once.
But Charles, dear, I cant. Ive used them.
It was very wrong of you, Charles Wallace scolded. If you needed sheets that badly you should have asked me.
Mrs Whatsit shook her head and clucked. You cant spare any sheets. Mrs Buncombe can.
Meg cut up some celery and mixed it in with the tuna. After a moments hesitation she opened the refrigerator door and brought out a jar of little sweet pickles. Though why Im doing it for her I dont know, she thought, as she cut them up. I dont trust her one bit.
Tell your sister Im all right, Mrs Whatsit said to Charles. Tell her my intentions are good.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Charles intoned.
My, but isnt he cunning. Mrs Whatsit beamed at him fondly. Its lucky he has someone to understand him.
But Im afraid he doesnt, Mrs Murry said. None of us is quite up to Charles.
But at least you arent trying to squash him down. Mrs Whatsit nodded her head vigorously. Youre letting him be himself.
Heres your sandwich, Meg said, bringing it to Mrs Whatsit.
Do you mind if I take off my boots before I eat? Mrs Whatsit asked, picking up the sandwich nevertheless. Listen. She moved her feet up and down in her boots, and they could hear water squelching. My toes are ever so damp. The trouble is that these boots are a mite too tight for me, and I never can take them off by myself.
Ill help you, Charles offered.
Not you. Youre not strong enough.
Ill help. Mrs Murry squatted at Mrs Whatsits feet, yanking on one slick boot. When the boot came off it came suddenly. Mrs Murry sat down with a thump. Mrs Whatsit went tumbling backwards with the chair on to the floor, sandwich held high in one old claw. Water poured out of the boot and ran over the floor and the big braided rug.
Oh, dearie me, Mrs Whatsit said, lying on her back in the overturned chair, her feet in the air, one in a red and white striped sock, the other still booted.
Mrs Murry got to her feet. Are you all right, Mrs Whatsit?
If you have some liniment Ill put it on my dignity, Mrs Whatsit said, still supine. I think its sprained. A little oil of cloves mixed well with garlic is rather good. And she took a large bite of sandwich.
Do please get up, Charles said. I dont like to see you lying there that way. Youre carrying things too far.
Have you ever tried to get to your feet with a sprained dignity? But Mrs Whatsit scrambled up, righted the chair, and then sat back down on the floor, the booted foot stuck out in front of her, and took another bite. She moved with great agility for such an old woman. At least Meg was reasonably sure that she was an old woman, and a very old woman at that.
Mrs Whatsit, her mouth full, ordered Mrs Murry, Now pull while Im already down.
Quite calmly, as though this old woman and her boots were nothing out of the ordinary, Mrs Murry pulled until the second boot relinquished the foot. This foot was covered with a blue and grey Argyle sock, and Mrs Whatsit sat there, wriggling her toes, contentedly finishing her sandwich before scrambling to her feet. Ah, she said, thats ever so much better, and took both boots and shook them out over the sink. My stomach is full and Im warm inside and out and its time I went home.
Dont you think youd better stay till morning? Mrs Murry asked.
Oh, thank you, dearie, but theres so much to do I just cant waste time sitting around frivolling.
Its much too wild a night to travel in.
Wild nights are my glory, Mrs Whatsit said. I just got caught in a down-draught and blown off course.
Well, at least till your socks are dry
Wet socks dont bother me. I just didnt like the water squishing around in my boots. Now dont worry about me, lamb. (Lamb was not a word one would ordinarily think of calling Mrs Murry.) I shall just sit down for a moment and pop on my boots and then Ill be on my way. Speaking of ways, pet, by the way, there is such a thing as a tesseract.
Mrs Murry went very white and with one hand reached backwards and clutched at a chair for support. Her voice trembled. What did you say?
Mrs Whatsit tugged at her second boot. I said, she grunted, shoving her foot down in, that there is shove such a thing shove as a tesseract. Her foot went down into the boot, and grabbing shawls, scarves and hat, she hustled out of the door. Mrs Murry stayed very still, making no move to help the old woman. As the door opened, Fortinbras streaked in, panting, wet and shiny as a seal. He looked at Mrs Murry and whined.
The door slammed.
Mother, whats the matter? Meg cried. What did she say? What is it?
The tesseract Mrs Murry whispered. What did she mean? How could she have known?
2
When Meg woke to the jangling of her alarm clock the wind was still blowing but the sun was shining; the worst of the storm was over. She sat up in bed, shaking her head to clear it.
It must have been a dream. Shed been frightened by the storm and worried about the tramp so shed just dreamed about going down to the kitchen and seeing Mrs Whatsit and having her mother get all frightened and upset by that word what was it? Tess tess something.
She dressed hurriedly, picked up the kitten still curled up on the bed, and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor. The kitten yawned, stretched, gave a piteous miaow, trotted out of the attic and down the stairs. Meg made her bed and hurried after it. In the kitchen her mother was making French toast and the twins were already at the table. The kitten was lapping milk out of a saucer.
Wheres Charles? Meg asked.
Still asleep. We had rather an interrupted night, if you remember.
I hoped it was a dream, Meg said.
Her mother carefully turned over four slices of French toast, then said in a steady voice, No, Meg. Dont hope it was a dream. I dont understand it any more than you do, but one thing Ive learned is that you dont have to understand things for them to be. Im sorry I showed you I was upset. Your father and I used to have a joke about the tesseract.
What is a tesseract? Meg asked.
Its a concept. Mrs Murry handed the twins the syrup. Ill try to explain it to you later. There isnt time before school.
I dont see why you didnt wake us up, Dennys said. Its a gyp we missed out on all the fun.
Youll be a lot more awake in school today than I will. Meg took her French toast to the table.
Who cares, Sandy said. If youre going to let old tramps come into the house in the middle of the night, Mother, you ought to have Den and me around to protect you.
After all, father would expect us to, Dennys added.
We know you have a great mind and all, Mother, Sandy said, but you dont have much sense. And certainly Meg and Charles dont.
I know. Were morons. Meg was bitter.
I wish you wouldnt be such a dope, Meg. Syrup, please. Sandy reached across the table. You dont have to take everything so personally. Use a happy medium, for heavens sake. You just goof around in school and look out the window and dont pay any attention.
You just make things harder for yourself, Dennys said. And Charles Wallace is going to have an awful time. We know hes bright, but hes so funny when hes around other people, and theyre so used to thinking hes dumb, I dont know whats going to happen to him. Sandy and Ill sock anybody who picks on him, but thats about all we can do.