Читать книгу Puzzle for the Secret Seven - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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The fair was very good indeed. The roundabout especially was voted ‘smashing’ by everyone.

‘It’s the quickest roundabout I ever knew,’ said George, when they were all getting off after a very dizzy ride. ‘I had to cling on to my giraffe for dear life. I was nearly swung off! Have we enough money to go again?’

‘I don’t want to go on again,’ said Pam, trying to walk straight. ‘I still feel as if I’m going round and round on my lion. Oooh, sorry, Colin—I didn’t mean to bump into you. I just can’t walk properly!’

Binkie was the same, and everyone laughed at the two girls, they were so dizzy. ‘Let’s go to the hoopla stall,’ said Jack. ‘But we won’t let Pam or Binkie have throws, because they’ll be too giddy to aim properly.’

That made both Pam and Binkie much more sensible, of course. In fact, Pam recovered so quickly that she threw best of the lot, and managed to get a hoop round a box of sweets, which she promptly shared with the others.

There was a coconut shy over in one corner, and here Peter shone, because he was an excellent thrower. He knocked down three coconuts, and the man in charge of the shy wasn’t at all pleased! He handed Peter the coconuts with a very bad grace.

‘However do you do it, Peter?’ asked Jack, enviously. ‘You always get a coconut when you go to a fair. And today you’ve got three!’

‘Well, I pretend I’m bowling at a wicket,’ said Peter, ‘and the coconut I aim at is the row of stumps! It’s easy if you think of it like that!’

Everyone immediately wanted to have another throw, but George shook his head. ‘No. There’s not enough money,’ he said. ‘Not even with Peter’s twenty-five pence—unless you don’t want to try anything else.’

But they all wanted to go on the swings, so, much to the coconut-shy man’s relief, they moved off. ‘Let’s put these coconuts beside our bikes,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t want to carry them about all the time. Scamper will guard them.’

Scamper was delighted to see them. He was lying by the pile of bicycles keeping an eye on everyone who passed. If anyone came a little nearer the bicycles than he thought they ought to, he stood up at once and growled. Two other dogs sat near by, admiring Scamper’s fierceness. He was really feeling rather important.

Peter threw the coconuts down beside the bicycles. ‘On guard, Scamper,’ he said, and Scamper gave a short, sharp bark, as if to say, ‘Yes, sir, certainly, sir!’ He ran to the coconuts, sniffed them all over, then lay down again, keeping a sharp eye on the other two dogs.

The nine children spent every penny of their money, and then wished they had a little left to spend on some delicious-smelling hot gingerbread. This was being made in a little oven by a small, fat, gipsy-looking woman. It looked good and smelt even better.

‘Want to buy some?’ she asked Peter.

‘Yes—but we haven’t any money left,’ said Peter. She laughed, and pushed a small batch of rather crumbly gingerbread squares over to them.

‘Help yourselves. These are done a bit too much. I can’t sell them.’

‘Thanks! That’s nice of you,’ said Peter, and he and the others helped themselves. He saw a pram near-by, with a baby laughing in it. It was rather a dirty baby, and the pram was old and broken-down and dirty too—but the baby was such a merry little creature that no one could help watching it as they munched the delicious gingerbread.

Janet went to play with the baby, and it held out its hands, and bounced up and down in delight. ‘Does the baby travel about with the fair?’ Janet asked the mother.

‘Oh, no. We live up in a shack on the hillside,’ said the little fat woman. ‘My husband goes round with the fair when it wants extra help, and when it comes anywhere in the district I sell gingerbread.’ She saw some people coming up, and began to shout. ‘Hot gingerbread, real old-fashioned gingerbread, straight from the oven. Two pence a piece, only two pence a piece!’

‘Come on,’ said Peter, looking at his watch. ‘We really ought to go now. We’ll just wander once more round the fair now all the lights are up.’

‘I like it better when it gets dark and they light those big flares,’ said Janet. ‘This is just the time I love. What a pity we’ve got to go!’

‘I think I’ll stay on a bit longer with Binkie,’ said Susie. ‘You like the fair when it’s night-time, don’t you, Binkie?’

‘Oh, yes,’ gushed Binkie, her nose twitching. ‘It’s so-so sort of romantic. It makes me want to write poetry. Oh, do let’s stay, Susie. The others can go if they want to. I might be able to write a poem about it.’

‘Binkie writes marvellous poetry,’ announced Susie proudly. ‘She won a prize at school for it. You ought to hear her recite it.’

This was the very last thing that anyone wanted. They stared at Binkie in horror, for it was plain that she was quite prepared to recite to them then and there.

‘I said it was time to go,’ said Peter, in a very determined voice. ‘And you and Binkie are to come too, Susie. We can’t leave you here alone.’

‘Oh yes you can. I don’t belong to your silly Secret Seven,’ said Susie at once. ‘I’m not under your orders.’

‘Well, you’re under mine,’ said Jack firmly. ‘And you know that Mother said you were to come back with me. And we are going right now!’

Susie said no more, but she scowled. ‘She’ll pay us out for this,’ said Jack to Peter. ‘Good thing we haven’t a meeting coming on—she and Binkie would try to spoil it! Come on, Susie!’

They collected their bicycles from a delighted Scamper, and set off back home again. But on the way up the hill that led from the fair, George spied something that astonished him—a great light on the hillside, not far to the left.

‘What’s that?’ he shouted, and stopped for the others to catch him up. ‘Look—flames—and smoke! It’s a house on fire!’

‘My word, yes—we’d better see if we can help!’ said Peter. ‘Look, there’s a telephone box just there, on the other side of the road, George. I’ll telephone the fire-station, while you others cut across the field-path there, and see what’s happening. Buck up!’

He rode to the telephone box and went inside, while the others opened the field-gate and then rode at top speed up the narrow path that led to the fire. Was it a house burning fiercely—it didn’t look as if much could be saved!

In the telephone box Peter asked for the fire-station, and spoke urgently into the telephone mouthpiece. ‘Hallo! Fire-station? There’s a fire up here on Hilly-Down Hill. It looks pretty fierce. Right—we’ll stay here till you come!’