this where I learn about the witches’ school?” said Tiffany.
There was a moment of silence.
“Witches’ school?” said Mistress Weatherwax.
“Um,” said Miss Tick.
“You were being metapahorrical, weren’t you?” said Tiffany.
“Metapahorrical?” said Mrs. Ogg, wrinkling her forehead.
“She means metaphorical,” mumbled Miss Tick.
“It’s like stories,” said Tiffany. “It’s all right. I worked it out. This is the school, isn’t it? The magic place? The world. Here. And you don’t realize it until you look. Do you know the pictsies think this world is heaven? We just don’t look. You can’t give lessons on witchcraft. Not properly. It’s all about how you are . . . you, I suppose.”