Читать книгу The Rilloby Fair Mystery - Enid blyton - Страница 5

FIRST DAY OF THE HOLIDAYS

“ ’Morning, Mother! ’Morning, Dad!” said Roger, and ruffled his father’s hair as he passed him, and dropped a kiss on his mother’s curls.

“Don’t do that, Roger,” said his father impatiently, smoothing his hair down. “Why are you late for breakfast? And where’s Diana?”

“Can’t imagine,” said Roger cheerfully, helping himself to an enormous plateful of porridge. “Asleep, I suppose.”

“Never mind,” said his mother. “It’s only the second day of the holidays. Roger, you can’t possibly eat all that porridge—with sausages to follow.”

“Oh, jolly good,” said Roger, sitting down in front of his great plateful. “Any fried onions with them?”

“Not at breakfast-time, Roger. You know we don’t have onions then.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” said Roger. He began to eat his porridge, craning his neck to read the back of his father’s newspaper.

As the newspaper was folded in two, the reading matter was upside down for Roger, and his father glanced at him irritably.

“Roger! What are you screwing your head round like that for? Have you got a stiff neck?”

“No—only just reading that exciting bit in the paper about the dog that... ”

“Well, don’t. You know it’s bad manners to read a paper when someone else is reading it,” said his father. “Don’t they teach you manners at school?”

“No. They think we learn them at home,” said Roger cheekily.

Mr. Lynton glared over the top of his newspaper. “Well, then, perhaps I’d better teach you a few these holidays,” he began. And just at that moment Diana burst into the room, beaming.

“Hallo, Mother! ’Morning, Dad! I say, isn’t this a heavenly day—all daffodils and primroses and sunshine! Gosh, I do love the Easter hols.”

“Get your porridge, dear,” said her mother. “Roger, you haven’t taken all the cream surely?”

“No, there’s a spot left,” said Roger. “Anyway, it won’t hurt Diana to have plain milk. She’s too fat.”

“I’m not! Am I, Mother?” said Diana indignantly. Her father gave an exasperated click.

“Sit down, Diana. Eat your porridge. If you must be late, be late quietly. Breakfast is at eight o’clock—and it’s now half-past!”

Mr. Lynton gathered up his newspaper, put it beside his wife’s place, and went out of the room.

“What’s the matter with Dad this morning?” asked Diana, pulling up one of her stockings. “Blow this stocking. It keeps coming down. Why is Dad so mouldy, Mother?”

“Don’t talk like that, Diana,” said Mrs. Lynton. “There’s nothing wrong with your father except that he does like you two to be punctual for meals—and also he’s heard that his Uncle Robert is coming to stay. You know the dear old fellow bores your father terribly.”

“Oh my goodness—is Great-uncle Robert really coming?” said Roger. “Whatever for? And where are you going to put him? Snubby’s coming to-morrow, isn’t he—and he’ll have the only guest-room.”

“Well, he can’t now—he’ll have to sleep in your room,” said his mother. “I’ll have a bed put up there. I’m sorry, Roger—but it’s the only thing to do. Uncle Robert must have the guest-room.”

“Oh gosh—Snubby sleeping with me—and playing his fool tricks all the time,” groaned Roger. “I shan’t mind having Loony in the room—but Snubby’s awful.”

“I’d very much rather you didn’t have Loony sleeping in the bedroom with you,” said Mrs. Lynton. “He’s a very nice spaniel, I know, although he’s completely mad—but I do not like dogs in bedrooms.”

“Mother! You say that every single time Snubby and Loony come to stay,” said Diana. “And you know quite well that if you turned Loony out into the kennel Snubby would go too, and sleep with him there at night.”

“Yes, I know,” said Mrs. Lynton with a sigh. “I don’t know which is worse—Snubby or Loony.”

Snubby was a cousin of the two children, and owned a black cocker spaniel called Loony, short for Lunatic. Snubby’s parents were dead, so he spent his holidays staying with various relations. Mrs. Lynton was sorry for him and fond of him, and he came more often to her house than to anyone else’s.

“He’s coming to-morrow, isn’t he?” asked Diana. “I’ll order a big bone for Loony to-day when I go by the butcher’s. Dear old Loony. I wonder if he’s still mad on brushes. Mother, last summer hols he took every single brush he could find. He put some of them down a rabbit-hole. We found quite a collection there one day.”

Mrs. Lynton hurriedly made up her mind that she would warn the household to keep all brushes out of Loony’s reach. Oh dear—what with Snubby and Loony and Uncle Robert, it looked as if things would be much too hectic for the next few weeks.

“I wonder what Snubby will say to Great-uncle Robert,” said Diana with a giggle, helping herself to sausages. “Oh, Mother—I just can’t see them together, somehow. Uncle Robert’s so haw-hawish and pompous—and Snubby’s so mad and idiotic.”

“You’ll just have to keep Snubby and Loony out of your uncle’s way, that’s all,” said her mother, getting up from the table. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t wait for you two any more. I see you’ve finished up the toast and have begun on the loaf of bread. When you’ve finished that perhaps you’d like to call it a meal! I cannot imagine how you can put all that away.”

“Easy,” said Roger, and grinned at his mother as she went out of the room. She smiled back. It was nice to have the children at home again, but it did take a little time to get used to their enormous appetites, careless ways and constant sparring.

Silence fell when Mrs. Lynton had gone out of the room. The two munched away hard, gazing out of the window. Daffodils danced at the edges of the lawn, and wallflowers shook the scent from their velvet petals. Sunshine flooded the garden and the two children felt happy and excited. The weeks stretched before them—no lessons, no rules—only day after day of sunshine and holidays, enormous meals, ice-creams—and Loony, the dog, to take for walks.

“Heavenly,” said Diana, coming out of her daydream. Roger knew what she had been thinking, and he agreed.

“Yes. Super,” he said. “I wonder how Loony will get on with Sardine.”

Sardine was their big black cat, so-called because of her great fondness for the tinned fish called sardine. The grocer was always astonished at the amount of tinned sardines Mrs. Lynton bought—fancy a family eating as many sardines as that! But it was Sardine the cat who ate it all, and waxed fat and sleek on it.

“I should think Loony will give Sardine a frightful time,” said Roger, scraping out the marmalade dish.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if Sardine doesn’t hold her own quite well,” said Diana. “Let me have a scrape of that marmalade, Roger. Don’t be a pig.”

“I wish Great-uncle Robert wasn’t coming,” said Roger, handing over the marmalade pot. “I wonder why he’s coming. He doesn’t usually come in our hols. It’s the last thing you’d think he’d want to do, considering he thinks all children are perfect pests.”

“Diana! Haven’t you two finished yet?” called Mrs. Lynton from upstairs. “Come along. I want you to help me with Snubby’s bed. I’m putting the play-room divan into Roger’s room. Roger, come and give me a hand with it.”

“Never a moment’s peace!” said Roger with a grin at Diana. “Come on. Let’s give a hand.”

They tore upstairs, falling over Sardine as they went. The big black cat fled up in front of them, tail in air, green eyes gleaming wickedly.

“Sardine! Do you still lie on the stairs, you wicked cat?” shouted Roger. “You be careful to-morrow, or Loony will get you if you don’t look out!”

“Loony’ll get you if you don’t look out. Loony’ll get you if you don’t look out!” chanted Diana, and skipped into Roger’s room to help her mother. Sardine was sitting on the window-sill there, her long tail waving from side to side.

“What have you two been doing to make Sardine so cross?” asked her mother.

“Well, I like that! She was lying doggo on the stairs waiting to trip us up!” said Diana indignantly.

“Lying catto, you mean!” said Roger with a chortle.

“Oh, Roger—you sound like Snubby when you say things like that!” said his mother. “Diana, make Roger’s bed whilst he and I bring in the divan.”

They were all busy that day, preparing for Great-uncle Robert and Snubby—what an odd pair! Great-uncle Robert was so old and polite and pompous, correct in every way—and Snubby was so very much the opposite, cheeky, idiotic and unexpected in all he did. Mrs. Lynton had quite a few qualms when she thought of them in the house together.

As for Loony, he would probably drive the old man mad. All the same Loony was a darling, and Mrs. Lynton, like everyone else, had fallen under his spell. Dear, silky-coated, melting-eyed Loony. There was probably only one person in the household who would regard Loony with bitter dislike—and that was Sardine.

At last the two rooms were done. The guest-room looked nice and bright and clean. Flowers arranged by Diana stood on the dressing-table, bright yellow daffodils matched by the yellow towels hanging by the basin.

Roger’s room looked different, now that it had the extra divan in. It wasn’t very big anyhow, and looked very crowded now, with the divan and an extra chair. Mrs. Lynton also added an old rug in one corner for Loony to sleep on.

“Oh, Mother! What’s the good of that?” said Roger. “You know where Loony always sleeps—on Snubby’s feet.”

His mother sighed. It looked as if these holidays were going to be just a little bit too exciting. She was quite right—they were!