The Practice
Matilda found the house empty as usual. Her father was not yet back from work, her mother was
not yet back from bingo and her brother might be anywhere. She went straight into the living-
room and opened the drawer of the sideboard where she knew her father kept a box of cigars. She
took one out and carried it up to her bedroom and shut herself in.
Now for the practice, she told herself. It's going to be tough but I'm determined¹ to do it.
Her plan for helping² Miss Honey was beginning to form beautifully in her mind. She had it now in
almost every detail, but in the end it all depended upon her being able to do one very special thing
with her eye-power. She knew she wouldn't manage it right away, but she felt fairly confident that
with a great deal of practice and effort, she would succeed in the end. The cigar was essential. It
was perhaps a bit thicker than she would have liked, but the weight was about right. It would be
fine for practising with.
There was a small dressing-table in Matilda's bedroom with her hairbrush and comb on it and two
library books. She cleared these things to one side and laid the cigar down in the middle of the
dressing-table. Then she walked away and sat on
the end of her bed. She was now about ten feet from the cigar.
She settled herself and began to concentrate, and very quickly this time she felt the electricity
beginning to flow inside her head, gathering³ itself behind the eyes, and the eyes became hot and
millions of tiny invisible⁴ hands began pushing out like sparks⁵ towards the cigar. "Move!" she
whispered, and to her intense⁶ surprise, almost at once, the cigar with its little red and gold paper
band around its middle rolled away across the top of the dressing-table and fell on to the carpet.
Matilda had enjoyed that. It was lovely doing it. It had felt as though sparks were going round and
round inside her head and flashing out of her eyes. It had given her a sense of power that was
almost ethereal. And how quick it had been this time! How simple!

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