Читать книгу Six Cousins Again - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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“Well, let’s have tea,” said Mrs. Longfield, pushing Melisande away and getting up. “Ring the bell, dear. Everything’s ready. We got straight so quickly, because you were clever enough to put up the curtains and put down the carpets for me. Daddy will be in soon, I hope. He’s just gone round the farm—not that there’s much to see yet.”

The door opened and a maid came in. She looked very smart indeed in a black frock and frilly white apron. She carried a silver teapot and hot water jug on a silver tray. The children stared at her.

“These are the children, Ellen,” said Mrs. Longfield. Ellen gave them a still smile and a nod.

“Yes, Madam,” she said. “Er—somebody’s left the front door wide open. Shall I shut it?”

“I will!” said Cyril, and rushed out. They had all been so excited at coming “home” for the first time that nobody had remembered to shut the front door behind them!

“I don’t like her much,” said Roderick, when the door had shut behind Ellen, and her foot-steps could be heard tap-tapping down the hall.

“Now you mustn’t be awkward, dear,” said his mother, sitting down at the table, and lifting up the teapot. “We’re lucky to have persuaded Ellen to come down to the country—she wouldn’t have come if we hadn’t had such a modern farm-house.”

Melisande looked with pleasure at the pretty tea-cloth, the plates with lace mats on them, and the silver teapot. It was a long time since she had seen such a dainty meal. She compared it with Mistletoe Farm—the big cloth that entirely covered the table and so soon got spotted—the great brown teapot—the plates covered with food, but with never a lace mat to grace them.

“It’s lovely to have things nice again,” she said. “I didn’t know how much I’d missed all this kind of thing till I looked at this tea-table. It’s just like it used to be at Three Towers, before we lost everything in the fire.”

“Yes—I was afraid you wouldn’t like pigging it at Mistletoe Farm,” said her mother, sympathetically. “Well, dear, if it rests with me, we shall never ‘pig it’—we shall live as we used to live, even if we are in a much smaller place, and haven’t so many lovely things.”

Roderick was also surveying the table—but with very little pleasure. Silver teapots and lace mats meant nothing to him—what he noticed was the lack of food! Where was the dish of ham, the big fat scones, the great fruit cake, the round cream cheese, the big pats of butter that had always accompanied high tea at Mistletoe Farm? He was hungry, and didn’t much like the look of the plate of thin-cut bread-and-butter, and the biscuits and little buns on this tea-table. Why, he could eat the whole lot and still be hungry!

“Is this all we’re going to have?” he began—and then someone tapped at the window, and a voice outside cried: “What a glorious sight! All my family together again!”

“Daddy!” yelled Roderick, and pushed back his chair so suddenly that it over-balanced and fell with a crash to the floor. He tore out into the hall, followed by Melisande and Cyril. Soon their father was being hugged and squeezed, and everyone was laughing happily.

“It was a wonderful sight to see you all sitting round the table like that,” said Mr. Longfield, taking off his heavy coat and hanging it in the hall cupboard. “I must just go and kiss your mother before I wash. She looked like Melisande’s sister, sitting there at the table. Rose, here I am! Welcome me to our new home!”

His wife smiled at him, pleased that he said she looked like Melisande’s sister. But she noticed that his boots were dirty and his hands too, and she gave him a little push after his kiss.

“Go and wash, you dirty boy! And just you be careful never to come in smelling like your brother at Mistletoe Farm! Hurry up, and we’ll all have tea.”

Mr. Longfield was soon back, and took his place, beaming. This was the first time for eight months that he had had his whole family together under one roof in a home of their own. He was delighted. He loved them all so much—and now he was going to lead the life he liked. He was going to be a farmer, and live in the country!

He looked admiringly at his wife. He was lucky to have someone so dainty and pretty—not like his brother’s wife, Linnie, who seemed to go about all day long in overalls, and always looked hot and hurried. She had turned into a typical farmer’s wife and he was glad that Rose showed no signs of it. He wanted someone decorative, someone whom everyone else would admire.

Roderick sat close to his father, glad to have him back again. He had taken a thin piece of bread and butter on to his plate, had doubled it up,—and then put it into his mouth whole! It really only made one mouthful and was gone in a minute.

“Roderick! You really can’t eat like that now you’re at home with me,” said his mother, horrified. “Oh dear—the children will have to learn their manners all over again, I’m afraid David. Their stay at Mistletoe Farm may have done their health a lot of good—though I do think Melisande is much too fat—but how it has ruined their manners.”

“Mother! How has it ruined mine?” said Melisande, hurt. “You want to see Jane’s, if you really would like to know what bad manners are!”

“Jane has no manners at all,” said her mother. “Neither has Jack. As for Susan—and that perfectly awful dog, Crackers ...”

“Crackers isn’t an awful dog,” said Roderick swallowing a piece of bread-and-butter so quickly that he almost choked. “I’m going to miss him very much. Don’t say anything against Crackers. And I say—is this all there is to eat?”

“Roderick dear—you’re over-excited or something, I think,” said his mother, in a gentle voice. “What else should there be to eat at teatime?”

“Well—ham—or eggs—and a jolly big fruit cake—and some of that lovely cream cheese,” said Roderick, remembering all the things he had had at high-tea at Mistletoe Farm. “And perhaps sausage rolls—and pickles...”

“Pickles! Sausage rolls! At teatime!” said his mother. “Surely you didn’t have those things at Mistletoe Farm!”

“Yes, we did. Every single day,” said Roderick. “Didn’t we, Melisande?”

“Yes. You see, they had high tea there, Mother,” explained Melisande. “I suppose we’ll have afternoon tea and then dinner later—or supper?”

“Of course,” said her mother. “You’ll soon get used to it. We’ll simply have to get you back to proper ways again.”

Roderick looked very gloomy. “I don’t know how I’m going to last out till supper,” he said. “I’m always so hungry when I get back from school. Wouldn’t Daddy rather have high tea too? Won’t he be hungry when he comes in?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be possible to have a more substantial sort of tea than this?” said Mr. Longfield to his wife. “Farming’s hungry work. I got used to a big meal about six o’clock or so, when I was farming up in Scotland.”

“I do hope you don’t expect me to do without all the nice ways I’ve been accustomed to,” said his wife, looking suddenly tearful. “After all—I’ve come to live in the country, when I much prefer the town. That’s a big thing for me to do. And if you want me to give up all the little ways I’ve been used to....”

“No, dear, no,” said her husband, hastily. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We certainly won’t have anything you don’t want. You’ve had a hard time this year, what with that dreadful fire, and losing all your nice things, and having no proper home for months. You deserve to have your own way now.”

“Besides,” said Rose, looking more cheerful, “we have Melisande to think of. She really ought to have things done nicely. It would be a shame not to bring her up properly.”

Having got her own way, Mrs. Longfield was prepared to be charming again, and things went smoothly. She could be very witty and amusing when she liked, and had a pretty, silvery laugh. She exerted herself to conquer everyone at the table, and succeeded. By the end of the meal they were all thinking that surely it was the best thing that ever happened, their coming to Holly Farm and being all together again.

Roderick still felt hungry, however, when he got up from the table. He didn’t like to say any more to his mother, so he went quietly out of the room and down to the kitchen. Perhaps Ellen would give him a bit of bread and cheese.

Ellen was sitting in a chair by the fire reading. Out in the scullery someone was doing something, but Roderick couldn’t see who it was. Ellen looked up as he came in.

“What is it?” she said, coldly.

“Have you got a bit of bread and cheese I could have?” asked Roderick, staring round the neat, small kitchen, comparing it most unfavourably with Dorcas’s big warm kitchen at Mistletoe Farm with its geraniums on the window-sill and its fat clock ticking away.

“What next?” said Ellen. “A bit of bread and cheese and you’ve just finished tea! Did your mother send you out for it?”

“No. I came because I didn’t have enough to eat,” said Roderick.

“Well, I’m sorry. But I don’t encourage children in my kitchen, and unless your mother says you can have bread and cheese, I can’t give you any,” said Ellen. She returned to her reading, and Roderick, rather scared, tiptoed out of the kitchen.

He suddenly felt homesick for Mistletoe Farm, and his cousins and Aunt Linnie and fat, comfortable old Dorcas in the kitchen—and above all for Crackers! He didn’t want to go back to the others. He went to the garden door, opened it and slipped into the dark garden. Roderick wasn’t at all sure that he liked Holly Farm after all!