[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
[
They were already so high that they could only just hear her. Nor did the Witch waste any time gazing up at them; they saw her set off northward down the slope of the hill.
[
[
[ [ THE PLANTING OF THE TREE [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ “Look!” [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ THE END OF THIS STORY AND THE BEGINNING OF ALL THE OTHERS [ [ They looked and saw a little hollow in the grass, with a grassy bottom, warm and dry. [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ About a week after this it was quite certain that Digory’s Mother was getting better. About a fortnight later she was able to sit out in the garden. And a month later that whole house had become a different place. Aunt Letty did everything that Mother liked; windows were opened, frowsy curtains were drawn back to brighten up the rooms, there were new flowers everywhere, and nicer things to eat, and the old piano was tuned and Mother took up her singing again, and had such games with Digory and Polly that Aunt Letty would say “I declare, Mabel, you’re the biggest baby of the three.” [ [ [ It was like this. The tree which sprang from the Apple that Digory planted in the back garden, lived and grew into a fine tree. Growing in the soil of our world, far out of the sound of Aslan’s voice and far from the young air of Narnia, it did not bear apples that would revive a dying woman as Digory’s Mother had been revived, though it did bear apples more beautiful than any others in England, and they were extremely good for you, though not fully magical.