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16.2: RUPERT GETS STUFFED (part 2)

Harriet ran. When she reached her room, she stayed only long enough to throw off the fluffy slippers, tug on her sturdy travelling shoes, and bundle her old dress into her satchel. A new dress, beautiful and just the shade of green that would set off Harriet's eyes, had been laid out beside it, but Harriet was not even tempted to take it-not now she knew the witchy godmother's methods of ensuring Pinwick's goodness. Harriet wished she could change out of the ridiculously fluffy robe, but there was no time to lose. She sped down the corridor until she reached the room that Rupert had been tucked up in for the night.

The bed was just as comfortable as Harriet's, and Rupert was taking full advantage. He was sprawled in the middle of it, snoring loudly. Juggalug was curled up on his chest; the half-banshee's snores sounded like quiet whistling. They were the picture of content.

Harriet had no scruples about shattering this picture and stamping all over it. She plucked Juggalug off Rupert by the tail and flung away the quilt.

"Quick, wake up! We have to leave," she hissed.

Rupert groaned and waved his hand about as though trying to bat away a fly.

"Rupert!" Harriet shook him. He defended himself by curling into a ball. "Rupert, you blunderhead, wake up!" Harriet was getting frantic. She could no longer hear Minola Caw's footsteps, but the witch must be drawing closer every moment they delayed.

Rupert still did not stir. It was then Harriet realised that Juggalug, despite hanging from her grasp by his tail, was also still asleep. Being upside-down did not seem to faze him at all.

DO NOT EAT ANYTHING, the note had read. A bit late for that, Harriet thought bitterly. Minola Caw's berries had certainly had a most soothing effect upon the diners.

Stuffing Juggalug in the opposite pocket to Albert, Harriet grabbed Rupert under both arms and hoisted him out of bed and onto his feet. Thankfully he wasn't heavy, but his slumbering state did not help matters. He flopped.

"Rupert, work with me here." She pinched his sides.

Rupert moaned, his eyes flickering open. "Harr... Harriet? What... What are you doing in my... in my... bed?"

Harriet was half dragging, half carrying Rupert to the door. "I'm not in your bed, you ninny, you're out of it."

"But then... where... am... I?"

"You're leaving."

"Leaving? Why... would I be... doing... that? Minola is such a... such a... nice... lady..."

"Oh, shut up and just get moving."

Finally, Rupert's legs started to function in a manner that resembled walking. He and Harriet staggered and reeled along the corridor, Harriet keeping her ears peeled all the while. She thought she could hear Minola Caw now-footsteps on the floor above-but it was hard to tell over the noise she and Rupert were making.

They had just reached the foyer and turned towards the door when a silvery voice rang out behind them.

"My dear Harriet, what by Day's sweet rays are you doing?"

Harriet whirled round, dropping Rupert, who fell into a sprawl and immediately started snoring.

Minola Caw stood at the top of the stairs. She was wearing an elegant silk nightgown, embroidered round the hem with wildflowers. Her voice, like her countenance (and her hair-who manages that when they've just got out of bed?), was composed. Too composed. It set Harriet on edge. Minola Caw, of course, must know exactly what Harriet was doing. This being the case, Harriet said so.