The Ogre of Oglefort by Eva Ibbotson Page B

trolleys down hospital corridors. The ogre might be taking a lot for granted, but actually no one was in a hurry to return.
    â€œWe’ll look after things for a while,” said Ulf, “but you must give up the idea of dying. It’s a really silly idea.”
    But the ogre just closed his eyes and said Germania was waiting for him. “You’ll have to make the mound bigger so we can both get in. And I’ll need someone to write things down as they occur to me. I think my mauve pajamas would be best for the funeral, but mauve’s rather a sad color. I don’t want to depress people.”
    The ogre had been dragged back to his bed, still muttering his wife’s name, and was now in a deep sleep, and Mirella had joined the others in the kitchen. She was no longer the sulky, obstinate girl who had shut herself in the tower but had straightaway helped the Hag to prepare the lunch, and now she and Ivo were doing the washing up.
    â€œI know how to get rid of the people in the dungeon,” said Mirella.
    â€œHow?” asked Ivo. “How can you get rid of them?”
    â€œI’ll show you,” said Mirella. “Come with me.”
    With Charlie running at their heels, they made their way across the courtyard and knocked on the door of the dungeon.
    â€œHave you brought us some lunch?” asked Mrs. Hummock.
    â€œNo,” said Mirella. “But we have some news from the ogre.”
    The sulky pair came hurrying up to her.
    â€œHe’s going to change us then?” asked Mr. Hummock.
    â€œAt last, at last!” said his wife, clapping her hands. “I knew he’d come around.”
    Mirella put up her hand. “Well, yes—but there’s something he’d like you to do first.”
    â€œAnd what is that?” asked Mr. Hummock.
    â€œWell, you see, the ogre is feeling very weak. That was why he hasn’t changed you up to now. But he feels sure that if he had one particular thing to drink—and lots of it—he’d get better very quickly.”
    â€œAnd what is that?” asked Mrs. Hummock.
    Mirella paused. Then she said dramatically: “Blood!”
    There was a moment of silence.
    Then: “What kind of blood?” asked the headmistress.
    â€œHuman blood. It must be human blood and he needs lots of it. Not just a few pints like one gives in a hospital, but buckets of it. He says if you’d all allow yourselves to be completely drained, he could drink enough blood from you to get up his strength for the changing. Of course you’d be almost dead—just white wraiths, really—but it wouldn’t matter because the next moment you’d be whatever you want to be. It hurts rather, as you’d expect—there’s a special syringe that goes into you and it just sucks and sucks—you can see your muscles turning paler and paler and your skin going blue, but the ogre is sure you won’t mind. He’s sending someone down first thing tomorrow morning to do it. You’ll need a good knife to make a cut in the flesh for the nozzle to go in and—”
    â€œAll right, all right, we get the idea,” said Mrs. Hummock.
    â€œAre you going to do it, too?” asked her husband. “Give your blood?”
    â€œOf course. I’m a princess—I’m not afraid of pain,” said Mirella grandly. “Well, we’ll see you later. There’s no need to tidy up down here, the ogre said, because there’s always a bit of leakage and the blood gets around; the whole place will have to be swilled out afterward.”
    She waved cheerfully and left the dungeon.
    â€œDo you think it’ll work?” asked Ivo.
    â€œIt’ll work, you’ll see,” said Mirella.
    The Hag was a little shocked when she found out what Mirella had done, but that didn’t stop her going to the kitchen window several times an hour to see if anything was happening. There was no movement all that