Witch's Business by Diana Wynne Jones

“Hurry.”
    The three of them set off again, round the house, and the row of heads once more turned to watch them. Jess was glad when they were out of sight and gladder still when they ran into Frank and Vernon coming the other way. Vernon was gloomy, because he had found nothing. Frank was cross, because he had tried to search the greenhouses and Mr. Wilkins had very sharply ordered him off. He was crosser still when Jess told him Frankie’s news.
    â€œDon’t tell me she can magic grown-up men,” he said. “It’s just nonsense.”
    â€œI bet it’s not,” Vernon said seriously. “That’s how it looked this morning.”
    â€œYes, it did,” Jess agreed.
    â€œIt looked like my big toe, then,” said Frank.
    â€œBut she knows ,” said Jess. “Look.” She pointed behind Frank and Vernon.
    Everyone looked, and there were Buster and his gang, trotting toward them up the large front lawn.
    â€œ Now do you believe it?” said Vernon to Frank.
    Nobody else said anything. Frankie seized Jenny’s arm, and they all five turned and ran. Behind them, the gang screamed and came racing after. Round the house went Vernon, Frank, Jess, looking over her shoulder, and Frankie, towing Jenny. Round the house, close on their heels, came Buster, Stafford, and the other seven. Round to watch them swung the row of guests’ heads.
    â€œWe’ll get you this time, you vampire-sludge scumbag!” roared Buster.
    â€œLousy stomach-maggot Piries!” yelled Stafford.
    â€œSweet sliming Fanny Adams!” screamed the rest.
    The row of heads turned as they all streamed past. “My gracious! What language!” Jess heard a lady say. The whole row settled its rugs on its knees and watched with interest. Jess could have shaken them all. None of them so much as asked if they needed help.
    â€œMy dad’s in the greenhouse,” Vernon panted.
    â€œI know,” said Frank. He was quite sure Mr. Wilkins would not understand, but he pelted after Vernon toward the far corner of the house. Behind him, Jess saw that Frankie could not pull Jenny fast enough to keep up. She turned back and seized Jenny’s other arm. She and Frankie almost swung Jenny off her feet between them, for the gang had nearly caught up. Frank saw the girls were not there and stopped. Vernon at last realized what was happening and ran round in a circle and back to Frankie, shouting:
    â€œGive her here. I’ll carry her.”
    In the confusion, the gang ran on too far and stopped also, in a line, between them and the greenhouses. Buster laughed.
    â€œGotcha!” said someone.
    â€œYou have not!” said Vernon. He lugged Jenny away from Frankie and Jess, and ran on round the house, carrying poor Jenny anyhow, with her head hanging down, and her feet waving in the air. Jess took Frankie’s hand, Frank took Jess’s, and together they tore after Vernon—slap bang into the middle of the game of croquet. Guests leaped out of their way. Frank nearly fell over one of the balls, and Jess kicked another clean across the lawn into a clump of bushes.
    â€œI say!” said a guest. “That won’t do.”
    â€œHelp!” said Jess.
    â€œI beg your pardon?” said the guest.
    â€œOh, bother you, then!” said Jess, and chased on after Vernon. And Vernon, unable to see his own feet because of Jenny, tripped over a croquet hoop, dropped Jenny, and fell on his face.
    Buster, who had been hanging back at the edge of the game, probably a little nervous of the guests and their mallets, summoned his courage, gave out his very worst word, and led the gang charging out among the guests.
    â€œI say!” said the guest again. “Look here!”
    Frankie, with her head down, looking very determined, raced across to Jenny and dragged her up. Frank ran to help Vernon and tripped over the same hoop himself. Jess was left stranded between a row of