“Move!” she whispered, and to her intense 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!
She crossed the bedroom and picked up the cigar and put it back on the table. Now for the difficult one, she thought.
But if I have the power to push, then surely I also have the power to lift? It is vital I learn how to lift it.
I must learn how to lift it right up into the air and keep it there. It is not a very heavy thing, a cigar.
She sat on the end of the bed and started again. It was easy now to summon up the power behind her eyes.
It was like pushing a trigger in the brain. “Lift!” she whispered. “Lift! Lift!” At first the cigar started to roll away.
But then, with Matilda concentrating fiercely, one end of it slowly lifted up about an inch off the table-top.
With a colossal effort, she managed to hold it there for about ten seconds. Then it fell back again.
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