John Constable The White Horse

John Constable The White HorseJohn Constable The Hay WainJohn Constable Salisbury Cathedral
The occasional crackle or puff of steam signaled its passage through the earth. Apart from that there was silence, the loud hissing silence that comes after an ear-splattering noise, and after the actinic glare the room seemed pitch dark.
Eventually Granny crawled out from behind the table and crept as closely as she dared to the hole, which was still surrounded by a crust of lava. She jerked back as another cloud of superheated steam mushroomed up.
"They say there's dwarf mines under the Ramtops," she said inconsequentially. "My, but them little buggers is in for a surprise."
She "You've got to go where they can. Wizard school."
"But you said -"
Granny paused in the act of filling a jug from the water bucketprodded the little puddle of cooling iron where the kettle had been, and added, "Shame about the fireback. It had owls on it, you know." She patted her singed hair gingerly with a shaking hand. "I think this calls for a nice cup of, a nice cup of cold water." Esk sat looking in wonder at her hand. "That was real magic." she said at last, "And I did it." "One type of real magic," corrected Granny. "Don't forget that. And you don't want to do that all the time, neither. If it's in you, you've got to learn to control it." "Can you teach me?" "Me? No!" "How can I learn if no one will teach me?"