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than he was already halfway there. Molly could actually see it happen right before her eyes. His head grew heavy against the pillow, and his breathing became soft and regular. His fingers uncurled, revealing the wishing button, nested safe in his palm.
    Molly turned onto her back and slowly shut her eyes. For the first time, she let herself feel the exhaustion that she had been fighting for weeks. Every part of her was worn out. Her hands, feet, legs,arms—even the tips of her hair felt tired. Molly was too tired to think about the strange pale family or the strange ugly tree or the strange portrait in the library.
    She was too tired, even, to register the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps entering the house.

ip was dressed and outside just after dawn. A good night’s sleep and two hot meals had done wonders for his spirit. Even his left leg, which usually ached in the mornings, felt better. Molly had said that Master Windsor was returning at the end of the week, and Kip thought if he worked hard, he might be able to tame the front lawn by then.
    He started with the overgrown ivy at the base of the mansion. He trimmed around the back and sides of the house. He would have continued around front by the tree, but it appeared as though someone had already cleared the growth on that side. When the ivy was finished, he chopped some firewood, repaired the stable door, and swept Galileo’s stall.
    Kip enjoyed working outside. It reminded him of hours spent with his father, tending their farm on the shore. It was a small farm—just a few animals, a vegetable garden, and a potato patch—but it had been more than Da could handle by himself. Kip had always secretly wondered, if he had been stronger, if he had been able to work as muchas a healthy boy, whether their farm might have thrived. Then maybe his family wouldn’t have needed to leave Ireland for work, and they would all still be together.
    It was early afternoon, and Kip was drawing water for Galileo at the well when he heard a pained voice in the direction of the house. “But Alistair, I’ll ruin my favorite dress!” It was the little girl, Penny. She was speaking to her brother, who was leaning against the big tree out front.
    “You should have thought about that before you agreed to play,” Alistair said matter-of-factly. “Now get in there, or it’ll be a double penalty.”
    Kip had known bullies in his life, and he could tell at one glance that Alistair was a bully of the highest order—the sort who took a special delight in torturing things smaller than himself. Show him a spider’s web and he would tear it. Show him a bird’s nest and he would kick it. Show him a lame boy? Kip preferred not to find out what he would do. He had thus far managed to avoid Alistair, which was not difficult, as both the Windsor children seemed to prefer playing indoors, and even when they were outside, the low hills covering the lawn created a sort of natural barrier between any two points.
    Now, however, Kip found himself with an opportunity to study the children, unobserved. He watched the little girl lower herself into a hole near the base of the tree. He had not noticed this hole before because it had been covered with leaves. Kip made a note tohimself that he should rake them clear when he got the chance. It was not a deep hole, for when Penny touched bottom, her chin was still aboveground. As soon as she was in, Alistair pushed leaves around her body with his foot until she was properly buried.
    “Alistair, I don’t think I want to play this game,” Penny said. Her glasses had slipped down from her nose, and she was trying unsuccessfully to fix them without the use of her arms.
    “Today’s game is entirely new.” The boy paced in front of the tree, hands behind his back like a captain of the guard. “It’s something I call ‘Pit and Pockets.’ You’ve likely already figured out the ‘pit’ part. Now for the next bit: I’ve got something in each of