Читать книгу Six Cousins at Mistletoe Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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The next morning everyone was very busy getting ready for the arrival of the three cousins. Jane heard to her horror that she was not to go into Susan’s room; she was to share her own room with Melisande.

“But, Mummy! You know how I’d hate that,” objected Jane at once. “I couldn’t bear to have Melisande sharing a room with me.”

“Well, you hate sleeping in Susan’s double-bed with her, because she kicks about so,” said her mother. “I thought it would be the lesser of two evils if you share with Melisande. And, anyway, it does mean we don’t have to move all your things. I do wish you’d be more tidy, Jane. Your bedroom is an absolute disgrace.”

“I’ll take all my things out, and put them into Susan’s room,” said Jane. “It won’t be any bother, Mummy.”

“No. I’ve settled the matter now,” said her mother firmly. “You’ll share your room with Melisande—and maybe you’ll be ashamed to be so messy and untidy when you’ve got her in the same room.”

“But, Mummy,” began poor Jane again, but her mother simply didn’t seem to hear. She swept about from this room to that, efficient, quick and commanding. Jane was to share with Melisande. Jack was to share with Cyril. Roderick was to have the little boxroom, and Jack and Jane were to go up there at once and clear it of its boxes and trunks.

“Why can’t I have the little boxroom, and let Cyril and Roderick share my room together?” said Jack, annoyed.

“Because we haven’t got time to remove everything from your room, or from Jane’s either,” said his mother, exasperated. “Good gracious me! Anyone would think they were coming to live with us, not stay with us, the fuss you’re making! Can’t you be a little bit helpful when I’m in such a rush?”

Jane and Jack went up to clear the little boxroom. Jane was furious and talked nineteen to the dozen. Jack was also furious, but didn’t say a word. Soon they had the room clear of the boxes and trunks, which they put in the cistern room—and their father brought up a camp-bed for Roderick to sleep on.

“I wish I could sleep on that,” said Susan, longingly. “Roderick is lucky.”

“Well you’re the only lucky one of us three,” said Jane, sharply. “You’re keeping your room to yourself. Jack and I are not. Thank goodness there are two beds in my room. I simply couldn’t bear to sleep in the same bed with Melisande. She smells like a scent-bottle all the time.”

“Dear old Smellisande,” said Susan with a giggle. “I do hope I don’t suddenly forget and call her that.”

At last the three rooms were ready for the unexpected visitors. Jane had tidied her room and put everything away in drawers—not neatly, alas! but crammed in anyhow. Jack had not been able to make much more room in his bedroom, because he was already very tidy, but he had moved out the cupboard in which he kept most of his treasures, and that did make a bit more space for Cyril’s belongings.

Susan had nothing to do to her own bedroom, so she helped her mother to arrange Roderick’s little room. They talked together as they made the camp-bed, and put out towels and soap and tooth-mug.

“I hope you and the others will be very nice to your cousins,” said Susan’s mother. “I know they are not a bit like any of you—they have been brought up so very differently—but they have had a dreadful shock and they will need kindness.”

“Yes, Mummy,” said Susan. “But how long have we got to go on being as kind as all that?”

“Oh, Susan! Is it such an effort?” said her mother. “You make me ashamed of you. Now go downstairs and ask Dorcas if she wants you to go and fetch anything from the shops. It’s my shopping morning, but I’m too busy to go.”

Susan sped downstairs to Dorcas, who was in the kitchen, making a big sponge pudding. She was a fat, elderly woman with a bright red face, untidy hair, tidy knob of a nose, and a pursed-up mouth. She wore an enormous white apron, and moved about surprisingly briskly for such a big woman. She was humming one of her favourite hymns when Susan came flying into the kitchen.

“Ah, here comes Susan Headlong again,” she said. “What do you want? To scrape out the pudding basin, I suppose.”

“Well, Dorkie, I wouldn’t mind,” said Susan. “But really I’ve come to see if you want any shopping done. Mummy’s too busy.”

“Yes, that she is,” said Dorcas, stirring the pudding mixture hard. “With three more to do for, she’s going to be busier than ever. Yes, and you mark my words. Miss Susan—them cousins of yours will be here for good!”

“Whatever do you mean?” said Susan, alarmed.

“I mean what I say,” said Dorcas. “Your Auntie Rose is in hospital, and your uncle’s got no house for the children, and not likely to get one either, these days—and your Ma will be landed with them for good.”

“Oh no!” said Susan. “You’re just silly, Dorcas! You know we couldn’t have them here for long. There isn’t room. Besides, Mummy would have too much to do. And Auntie Rose will soon be out of hospital and Uncle will find a house, and they’ll all be together again.”

“Well, you’ll see,” said Dorcas, darkly. “Take your finger out of my basin, now, Miss Susan, or I’ll rap it with my wooden spoon. And if you want to be useful, get down the old shopping-bag, find my shopping list on the dresser, and go and get the things I want.”

“I’ll go on Boodi,” said Susan. “He likes shopping.”

“Well, you see you shut him up properly when you come back,” said Dorcas. “Last time you let him wander around, and he stuck his wicked head in my kitchen window and licked all over the bar of salt I’d left on the table nearby.”

“Yes, I know. You told me before. It made him terribly thirsty afterwards,” said Susan, getting down the shopping-bag. “He’s a darling. Don’t you really think so, Dorcas?”

“Indeed I don’t,” said Dorcas, pouring a little milk into her basin. “He’s a pest if ever there was one, that pony of yours. I don’t like that wicked look in his eye, either. Now off you go, or I’ll not get the things I want to-day!”

Susan ran off to the stables. Boodi, the Iceland pony, was there, his head over the door, waiting for her. He was brown all over, with a short thick mane and a long, thick tail. His eyes were beautiful—dark and clear, with sweeping eyelashes that curled up just like Susan’s own.

“Boodi! Have you been waiting for me to come? I’ve been busy,” said Susan as she saddled him. “Boodi, Dorkie says you’re a pest and that you’ve got a wicked look in your eye. And I do believe you have!”

Boodi certainly had. He was a queer character. Mr. Longfield often said he would never have bought him if he had been the last horse in the world. He had had to take him in payment of a bad debt, and had brought him home one night.

Susan had met him riding Boodi, and stood still in delight. At that time she had no pony of her own, and she quite thought her father had been to buy one for her—and she thought it might be Boodi!

“Daddy! Is he mine? Have you bought me a pony at last?” she cried, and she had been bitterly disappointed when she knew that Boodi was not for her.

“He’s vicious,” said her father. “Do you know what he does? He suddenly goes into the hedge and squeezes himself alongside to squash your leg and make you get off! He tried it once with me, but he won’t again!”

Boodi looked at Susan under his long eyelashes and she looked back at him. He blinked. Susan rubbed his soft nose.

“You winked at me,” she said softly. “I saw you! Daddy, I’m going to pretend that he’s mine.”

And so she had pretended, though for some time her father would not let her attempt to ride the Iceland pony. “He’s too fat for your short little legs,” he said. “And I don’t trust him.”

“But I do,” said Susan, earnestly. “He’s queer in lots of ways, Daddy, but he’s all right with me. Really he is. I’ve found out that he won’t go if you say, ‘Gee-up.’ You have to say ‘Woa!’ And he won’t stop unless you whistle to him. As soon as I whistle he pulls up at once.”

“I expect, being brought up in Iceland, the ways there are different from here,” said her father. “He’s an odd fellow.”

“He thinks for himself,” said Susan. And it was quite true. Boodi did think for himself. He had an intense curiosity, and if he saw anything that puzzled him he had to go up and look at it closely. He had an incurable habit of licking things too, and an even worse one of nibbling the tail of any horse that happened to be standing in front of him.

He soon became known as Susan’s pony, and when he had been there a year he followed Susan about rather like Crackers did. Mr. Longfield still would not let Susan ride him, much to the little girl’s grief, because he felt convinced that Boodi was not trustworthy, and he had visions of Susan being flung from his back, her foot still caught in a stirrup, and being dragged home at Boodi’s heels.

“Well, let me try him without stirrups then,” begged Susan one day. “I can’t come to any harm then. I’ve taken tosses from Merrylegs and Darkie and come to no harm. If I ride Boodi without stirrups I can’t possibly have a real accident.”

And so she had first been allowed to ride Boodi without stirrups, and had gone gaily along the lanes, slipping and sliding about on his back. Never once had Boodi tried to get her off by his trick of squeezing her leg close against a hedge.

Now she was allowed to ride him properly, with stirrups, and he was as good as gold with her, but neither of the twins was keen on getting on his back. They couldn’t imagine why Susan was so fond of Boodi, when there were lovely ponies like Merrylegs and Darkie to rave over.

Susan rode off on Boodi, cantering down the lane that led from Mistletoe Farm to the little village in the valley below. Boodi was in a happy mood, and tossed his head up and down as he went. Susan sang in her high clear voice, and forgot all about the coming of the three cousins.

She did the shopping and mounted Boodi again, turning his head homewards. She suddenly remembered that Melisande, Cyril and Roderick were arriving that day, and her heart sank. They would turn their noses up at everything, including Boodi. They would expect to be waited on. Melisande would probably weep all the time, and keep telling them about the fire.

“I must be kind. I really must,” said Susan to herself. “It’s awful for them. And I don’t expect they want to come and stay with us any more than we want them to! I expect they’re miserable too. I shall be kind. I shall offer to carry up hot water for ...”

A car came up the narrow lane behind Boodi. Susan got as close to the left side as she could. The car hooted loudly, and Boodi reared in fright, almost throwing Susan off.

“What did you do that for?” shouted Susan in anger. “You idiots! Quiet, Boodi! Get down. It’s all right, Boodi. I tell you.”

The car swept by, and Susan glared at the people inside. “Beasts!” she yelled, quite beside herself with fury at their stupidity.

And then she saw that it was her cousins! Her Uncle David was driving the car, and Melisande was sitting beside him. It must have been she who had hooted to attract Susan’s attention. Cyril and Roderick were sitting behind.

Susan could not smile. The four driving by saw an angry little red face, and then the car swept on up the lane and disappeared round a corner.

Boodi was still rather unmanageable. He hated sudden noises, and had once run for miles when a traction engine had met him unexpectedly, hissing out steam. Susan slid off his back and went to his nose to calm him down.

“Aren’t they stupid, Boodi?” she said. “Just the kind of thing they would do! How can I smile and say nice things to people like that? And just look at all my shopping! I must have dropped the bag when you reared up like that. Now stand whilst I pick everything up.”

She began to whistle softly. Boodi liked that. Whistling always soothed him. He stood almost still whilst Susan picked up the things that had fallen out of the bag. She couldn’t find the tin of golden syrup anywhere.

“Blow! It must have rolled right down the hill,” she said. “Come and look, Boodi.”

It had rolled down the lane and into the ditch round the corner. Susan fished it out, wiped it and put it back into the bag. Then, still feeling exasperated, she mounted Boodi again. “Woa!” she cried. “Woa!” and Boodi, contrary as ever, set off up the hill just as if she had clicked to him to gee up!

“So they’ve arrived,” thought Susan as they jogged along. “Oh, I do hope Dorkie isn’t right. I do hope they haven’t really come for good!”