Читать книгу Mister Meddle's Mischief - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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Mister Meddle was a pixie who couldn’t mind his own business. He was for ever poking his long nose into other people’s houses, and meddling with whatever they were doing.

One day he felt more meddlesome than usual, so he ran round to Dame Gladsome’s. She was very busy that morning, but as soon as she saw Mister Meddle’s nose round the door she flew to shut it!

“I’ve come to help you,” said Meddle crossly.

“Oh, I’m much too busy to be bothered with your help!” said Dame Gladsome, and she turned the key in the lock.

Mister Meddle frowned and went to Old Man Twinkle, who was on the top of a ladder beside his big bookcase, turning out all his old books and dusting them.

“I’d like to help you,” said Meddle, putting his head in at the window. He gave Old Man Twinkle such a fright that he fell off his ladder and bounced on to the table, sending his books up into the air.

Meddle decided not to wait and see what Old Man Twinkle said. He ran off and came to a neat little house on the top of the hill. It belonged to Mother Heyho. Meddle didn’t know her very well. He knocked at her door.

Mother Heyho opened it. She had a handkerchief tied round her head and a duster in her hand.

“Good morning,” said Meddle politely. “Is there anything I can do for you? I happened to be passing, and as I had nothing much to do to-day, I wondered if I could be any help to you.”

“How nice of you!” said Mother Heyho, who didn’t know what a nuisance Mister Meddle could be. “Well, I badly want some butter and some eggs. Could you fetch some for me?”

Meddle was off like a shot. He went to the dairy, got the butter and eggs, and ran back with them. Mother Heyho opened the door. Meddle rushed in, but unfortunately he didn’t notice that Mother Heyho had just polished the floor. He slid on a mat, turned head-over-heels—and the bag of eggs went flying to the ceiling and came down, smack, on Mother Heyho’s head!

Mother Heyho was not at all pleased. Meddle put the butter carefully down on a chair and rubbed his bruises.

“Anyway, the butter’s not broken, like the eggs,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” said Mother Heyho, trying to get the eggs off her hair. “Butter doesn’t break—but if it did, you’d have broken it! Now I shall have to wash my hair.”

“I’ll help you,” said Meddle eagerly. He fetched a bowl for Mother Heyho and filled it full of water. Mother Heyho began to wash her hair. “Get me some more hot water,” she said. “There’s some in that kettle. Put it into a jug for me to pour over my hair.”

Meddle emptied the water into a jug. Then he thought it would be very helpful if he poured the water over Mother Heyho’s hair himself. So he tilted up the jug and poured.

“Oooh! Ow! Oooh!” yelled poor Mother Heyho, jumping almost up to the ceiling in fright. “It’s boiling hot, you silly fellow! I’m cooked, I’m cooked!”

Meddle was horrified. He looked at Mother Heyho jumping round the kitchen, holding her hot head. He ran to the tap and drew some cold water. He threw it over Mother Heyho’s hair.

“Ooooh! It’s icy-cold!” shouted Mother Heyho. “Stop it! Leave me alone!”

Meddle tried to put the jug on the table and just missed it. Crash! It fell on to the floor and broke.

“My best milk-jug, oh, my best milk-jug!” wept Mother Heyho, in despair.

“Sorry,” said Meddle. “I’ll get some glue and mend it.”

He ran to the store cupboard and found a little bottle of glue. Then back he went to mend the milk-jug. He put the glue on the table and picked up the milk-jug bits. But just as he was pressing them together his hand slipped—and he knocked the glue-bottle off the table! The glue poured out on to the chair, the table, and the floor! Oh, what a mess!

Mother Heyho was busy drying her hair and didn’t see what had happened. Meddle picked up the glue-bottle, but he couldn’t pick up the glue!

The next thing that happened, of course, was that Meddle stepped straight into the sticky glue! His shoes stuck to the floor, and when he tried to get away his feet slipped out of his shoes, and there he was, dancing about in his socks! And, of course, the next thing he did was to dance right on to the glue again! This time, when he tried to get out of it his socks came off, and there he was, in his bare feet!

Mother Heyho put her towel down at that moment and saw Meddle rushing about in bare feet. She was most astonished.

“Why have you taken your shoes and stockings off?” she asked. “Do you think you’re going to bed or something?”

Mother Heyho put her towel down on the gluey table, and glared at Meddle. She was getting tired of him. When she tried to pick the towel up she couldn’t—it had stuck! She pulled in surprise.

“Let me help!” said Meddle at once, and he gave an enormous tug at the towel. It came up—and so did the table! Meddle sat down hurriedly on the floor, and the table fell on top of him, and a corner of it went on to Mother Heyho’s toe.

How she yelled! She danced round the kitchen on one leg, holding her toe, whilst Meddle pushed away the table and tried to get up. The gluey towel had got round his neck and he couldn’t get it off.

“Oh, you wicked fellow!” cried Mother Heyho. “Look at all the mess and muddle you’ve made! Look at all the damage you’ve done! Now don’t you dare to do another thing! Sit down and don’t dare to move!”

Mother Heyho looked so fierce that Mister Meddle thought he had better do as he was told. So he sat down, squish, on a chair! But Mother Heyho only yelled at him all the more.

“Oh, you bad fellow! Oh, you silly pixie! Now you’ve sat on my butter! Get up, get up! You’re sitting on my butter, I tell you! You’ve broken my eggs—and messed my hair—and nearly cooked my head—and broken my milk-jug—and got glue over everything—and hurt my toe—and now you must sit on my butter! What else will you do, I’d like to know?”

Mister Meddle was frightened. He got up off the butter, and tried to go to the door in his bare feet. He could see Dame Gladsome and Old Man Twinkle going by outside.

“I can see two friends of mine,” he said to Mother Heyho. “I must go.”

“Well, I’ll help you to go!” said Mother Heyho fiercely, and she caught up her big broom. Swish—swish—swish! She swept poor Meddle right off his feet, and he shot down the garden path and through the gate in a fearful hurry. He landed just under Old Man Twinkle’s feet and gave him a fright.

“My goodness, it’s Mister Meddle again!” said Dame Gladsome. “Is this the way you usually come out of a house, my dear Meddle? It seems very sudden.”

Mister Meddle didn’t answer. He rushed home in his bare feet, and got into a hot bath to get off all the glue. But it won’t be long before he meddles again with somebody. He just simply can’t help it!