Читать книгу Puck's Broom - E. Gordon Browne - Страница 29

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George Grows Up

IT was not long before everybody knew all about it. George was going to have a party! Not an ordinary party, but a splendid one. There were invitations for all George's friends, both boys and girls; for Grandfather, Grandmother, uncles, aunts, and all kinds of grown-ups who could help to hand round the tea and cakes and let off fireworks when it grew dark.

George was quite ready to have the fireworks first thing in the morning as soon as he woke up; but Father said, "No!" Mother said, "No!" and Nurse said nothing, but just looked. Nurses don't like fireworks, though they sometimes pretend they do.

Everybody—except Alexander—must have been getting ready for this birthday for weeks and weeks, for when George woke up a little earlier than usual on the great day there was quite a stir and bustle in the house. The postman could hardly carry his bag along the path up to the front door. It was packed full of presents.

Alexander had a big red silk bow fastened round his neck, and nearly fell all the way downstairs through twisting his head round to try and bite it off. Even Nurse, for once, almost ran, she was in such a hurry.

It is a wonderful thing to have a birthday if you have enough kind uncles and aunts to help. Uncles must be strong enough to carry you on their shoulders like a never-tiring horse, then to change into bears which you can shoot at, and, almost before they have finished dying under the sofa, they must be ready to change into anything else you may want.

Aunts are best when they smile all the time and bring out sweets and chocolates from some hidden part of their dresses, like conjurers, just when you are tired and want to rest for a minute. Alexander liked aunts, and was always ready to beg for biscuits even when he met one of them in the middle of the street or in a shop. Uncles were all right, but rather tiring. Dogs don't always want to play games.

Well, the number of presents was perfectly delightful, and everybody had sent exactly what George wanted. But in the middle of breakfast he looked up suddenly and said: "It's Alexander's birthday too. Hasn't he got any presents?"

"What?" said Father, turning quite red in the face and forgetting that he was holding a piece of bacon on the end of his fork.

"Dear me!" said Mother, looking as if she were going to cry. "Oh, where's Nurse?"

Nurse appeared in the room at once, and when she heard that it was Alexander's birthday, do you think that she said "What?" or "Dear me?" Not at all.

She just went to the door and called: "Alex—ander!"

Alexander arrived with a rush and a bang, looking as if nothing in the world would ever surprise him.

"Alexander," said Father solemnly, "I have great pleasure in telling you that this is your birthday. I wish you many happy returns of the day!"

"Wuff!" replied Alexander, wagging his tail, and looking at Father as much as to say: "Don't keep me waiting any longer. You know how hungry I am!"

Father smiled, and suddenly in his hand he held a most beautiful silver collar, on which was written Alexander's name. He took off the red bow and put the collar round Alexander's neck. Alexander said nothing, but sat and waited.

Mother wished him 'many happy returns' too, and then—where had she hidden it?—there was a pretty tin of sugary biscuits with 'A' printed on the top.

"Wu—uff!" said Alexander, and wagged his tail so hard that he nearly fell over.

George looked quite pleased. "I'm so glad he wasn't forgotten," he said; "it didn't seem fair for me to get such lots of things, and Alexander nothing at all."

It was soon four o'clock, and the guests began to arrive, first in ones and twos and then in threes and fours.

It was a lovely summer day, and after games in the garden there was a Punch and Judy which everybody liked, especially Father and the uncles. Alexander sat quite still until Punch's dog appeared, and then he had to be led indoors and shut up, for he grew quite fierce, and was just getting ready to bite Punch's nose off.

Punch without a nose wouldn't be a Punch at all, and then the man who keeps him would never be able to go to parties again. But Alexander never thought about that.

By this time everybody was ready for tea, which was served in a large tent in the garden. On the middle of the table stood a very large cake stuffed full of plums. Nurse had made this with her own hands, and there were no cakes like hers. One could eat two and even three large-sized slices and scarcely feel a little bit uncomfortable afterward.

No one could eat any of this cake, however, until most of the white and brown bread and butter—you were allowed to have jam spread on it—scones, tea cakes, cream cakes, ice cakes, jam puffs, tartlets, and oh! heaps of other things had disappeared. Then Father stood up with a large knife in his right hand, and made a little speech. Everybody clapped their hands and laughed—even the uncles and aunts who had had no tea at all.

George sat in a high chair looking as proud as a king. Kings always look proud, and queens, their wives, look proud too, but in quite a nice way. If you have ever seen them riding by in a carriage drawn by six white horses in gold harness you will understand exactly why you cannot really look proud in a cab with one horse, or in a taxi-cab which flies along with a fizz and a bang. You only just have time to get the eighteenpence ready for the driver. If you were a king you wouldn't ever have to do that.

After the speech George cut the cake and Father helped, so that everybody, grown-ups and all, had a slice.

Then George had to speak. "Thank you very much," he said. "I hope you've enjoyed the party. I know I have, and so has Alexander. Now we're going to have the fireworks!"

It was not dark yet, so there were games and races, followed by a little rest, during which Mother told them stories. Then Uncle William, the funny man of the party, gave an imitation of all the animals in a farmyard, which was even better than the real thing, of a railway train coming out of a tunnel, and, last of all, of Father getting up in the morning.

Father laughed so much at this that Mother had to pat him very hard on the back for several minutes. Uncle William was not allowed to tell the story of the two cats on the wall, because Alexander did not like cats—even cats which weren't real.

At last it was time for the fireworks, and all the children seated themselves at one end of the garden and waited patiently. Suddenly bang! up went a red star, then a green one; then showers and showers of little green ones. Then bang! bing! bang! fizz! crack! jumped the crackers. Rrrrrrr! whirled the Catherine wheels, slowly at first, then fast, faster, and so fast that they made your eyes quite sore watching them.

Hiss! Whizz! Bang! went a rocket with a tail as long as from here to the end of the next street. Higher and higher it flew, until, all of a sudden, just as you thought it was quite out of sight, it burst, and—ah!—hundreds of little stars lit up the sky and made it look lighter than even the lightest day.

But there was something better to come still. At the end of the shrubbery a light shone faintly and then went out. Then shone more and more lights, until you could see that great big letters as tall as yourself were growing up. And then—all of a sudden—in a blaze of light there was spelt out for all to see, GEORGE.

Such crackings and bangings, such shouts and cheers from all over the garden you never heard, nor anyone else either.

That was a real surprise.

Just as people were getting ready to put on their coats and say "Thank you very much for your delightful party," another light shone out over the high tree near the garden gate.

"Hullo!" said Father. "Hullo, what's this? A surprise from Uncle William, I expect," and he stood still and watched.

Brighter and brighter grew the light, longer and longer, until it looked like a great tongue of fire. Then it swept along over the trees, under the trees, in and out and round about, until it looked as if thousands of little lanterns were shining everywhere.

"It sounds as if there were music somewhere, quite far off," said Mother. "Well, I don't know what it can be."

Uncle William, who was supposed to know all about it, said that he hadn't done it, but nobody believed him.

Little by little the lights died out, and then it was time to go home to bed.

George was quite sleepy, and was very glad to find his head resting on a soft pillow. After he had said his prayers and said "Good-night," he called out to Nurse: "Do you know who made those jolly little lights, right at the end of the fireworks?"

Nurse stood silent for a moment: "Perhaps I do; perhaps I don't," she replied.

"Oh," said George, "tell me, then!"

"Good-night, Master George." Out went the light, and if George hadn't been so sleepy and tired he might have found out all about it then and there; but that would have meant that all kinds of things which were just going to happen wouldn't have happened at all, which would have been a pity.

Puck sat cross-legged on an old toadstool, and the fairies danced all round him in their magic ring.

"It was a jolly party!" he said to the old frog. "You ought to have been there."

"Ker-ek!" replied the frog. "My throat was rather sore to-night, so of course I could not go. I hear there were fireworks."

All the fairies stopped dancing and burst out laughing when they heard him say this.

"What are you laughing at?" he croaked.

Puck jumped off his stool and turned head over heels.

"Tell him! Tell him!" they all cried out.

"Well," said Puck, "we were all there. The fairy music band played; the fire-flies and glow-worms made beautiful fireworks, more beautiful than the grown-ups had bought—and no one knows who did it. What fun!"

"Ugh!" said the frog. "I don't see anything to laugh at."

"Don't you?" said Puck. "Well, wait until we have our party and invite George."

"He won't come," croaked the frog.

"Won't he?" replied Puck. "Won't he?"