George sat himself down at the table in the kitchen. He

was shaking a little. Oh, how he hated Grandma! He really

hated that horrid old witchy woman. And all of a sudden

he had a tremendous urge to do something about her.

Something whopping. Something absolutely terrific. A

real shocker. A sort of explosion. He may have been only

eight years old, but he was a brave little boy. He was ready

to take this old woman on.

Very well, then. What should it be, this whopping ter-

rific exploding shocker for Grandma?

As George sat there pondering this interesting problem,

his eye fell upon the bottle of Grandma s brown medicine

standing on the sideboard. Rotten stuff it seemed to be...

and it didn t do her the slightest bit of good. She was

always just as horrid after she d had it as she d been before.

So-hol thought George suddenly. I shall make her a new

medicine, one that is so strong and so fierce and so fantas-

tic it will either cure her completely or blow off the top of

her head.

"Here we go, then!" cried George, jumping up from the

table. "A magic medicine it will be!"