19. The Wise Sisters

The next Saturday afternoon, Glorvina set for tea a huge round iron table she had in her garden. It was a very cold late November but the  weather round the table was like the middle of spring, so tea could be had there. That was precisely what Glorvina meant to do. She had invited her cousins and Mr. Binky so they could meet and chat about education.  

My mother had told me to follow Mr. Binky and see what came of this meeting and report on it to her. I was ashamed to assist uninvited, so I arrived early to find a hiding spot I could observe everything from without being a conspicuous nuisance. The tea table was next to the garden fence. Growing next to the fence were some holly bushes. I shrank to my smallest size  and sat on a leaf, camouflaged by a couple of bright red berries.

At five o’clock sharp a damp fog descended on the garden, wetting me as well as everything else a bit. A peeing fog is what they call that sort of phenomenon in La Mancha.When it cleared a minute later, the vegetation had changed. The table was now surrounded by a circle of leafy hazelnut trees, and the ground was covered with their fallen leaves and fruit. It was a little cooler, but the temperature still allowed sitting outside.

Three pink-haired ladies were now about to sit at the table. Glorvina greeted them, calling each by her name. The names she spoke were Sabatica, Spiridoola and Luxviminda.

Sabatica was the one who looked most like a teacher, smart, with properly combed fuschia hair, a prim mouth and very prominent eyeglasses. She carried a little white highland terrier. Glorvina greeted the dog too, and I learned his name was Woof MacTecla.    

Spiridoola had long, straight hair, each strand a different shade of pink, the darker tones making it look almost black. She was a nice-looking lady with a quiet voice and a wistful, almost sad air. She pushed a small portable stand with a TV set on it to a side of her chair, gave the set a loving pat and let it stand there next to her.   

Luxviminda’s hair was a pale pink, like a very light shade of coral. One of her clear blue eyes roved nervously all about the place while the other remained fixed on a crystal fishbowl she set on the table before her with a sigh of relief as soon as she could. It had to be very heavy. There was lots of water in it, and in that swam a plump, shimmering fish. This was MacMor, the Wise Sisters’ pet salmon of knowledge. 

And now I will ask you to excuse my Scottish, for I have no idea how it is properly spoken, but the ladies said things that sounded something like this:

“Glorvina! Hoo are ye daein like?”

“Brawlie! I sent for you because Mungo Binky needs to consult you.”

“Whit’s he on aboot noo?”

“Education.”

But before she could say more, Luxviminda’s roving eye lit on me.

She asked me – or at least I think she did – what I meant by staring at her fish.

“I’m not a threat to it!” 

I was quick to assure her I meant it no harm. I was so small just then it was more likely to eat me than I it.  

“I’m here to spy on Mr. Binky. And I’m obviously not very good at it. Do you mind?”

Most forest fairies don’t mind being spied on by others at all, humans, of course, excepted. This is because the woods are choke-full of ever present birds and elves and insects and other such creatures so you are never alone. But other kinds of fairies can be very touchy about being observed. Fortunately for me, Glorvina insisted I take a seat at the table, a cup of  warm black tea and some shortbread petticoat tails. So I  wasn’t shot at dawn as spies usually are.