Читать книгу Don't Be Silly, Mr. Twiddle! - Enid blyton - Страница 3

Once Mrs. Twiddle was in bed with a bad cold. Mr. Twiddle was very sorry, and he said he would do what he could to help. But Mrs. Twiddle thought to herself that she wasn’t sure if Twiddle’s help would be much use.

“You tell Mrs. Minny, the woman who comes to do the washing to-day, to come up and see me,” said Mrs. Twiddle, sneezing into her handkerchief. “She can do everything for me, and cook your dinner, and do a bit of washing as well.”

So Mrs. Minny went up to see Mrs. Twiddle, and the two of them planned out the day’s work.

“If you can scrub the scullery floor, and cook a bit of dinner, and wash out that dirty sheet over there and sponge that oily mark out of Mr. Twiddle’s coat, and see that the cat has her dinner, I think we’d be all right,” said Mrs. Twiddle. “Could you do that, do you think?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, easily,” said kind Mrs. Minny. “Mr. Twiddle doesn’t need to do a thing.”

They sent Mr. Twiddle out to the chemist’s so that he would be out of the way, because very often when he wanted to be helpful, he wasn’t at all. Then Mrs. Minny set to work to peel potatoes and make a pie, and scrub the scullery floor and do a bit of washing.

She hung the washed sheet out in the garden and she pegged up Mr. Twiddle’s sponged coat on the line, too, so that they would both dry in the wind. She took up Mrs. Twiddle’s dinner on a tray and she gave Mr. Twiddle his as well. Then she washed up and said good-bye.

“Everything’s done, ma’am,” she said, “and I’ve left a cold supper in the larder. If Mr. Twiddle will just bring in the coat and the sheet off the line, when they’re dry, that’s all there is to do.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Minny,” said Mrs. Twiddle. “I’m very grateful. I’ll tell Mr. Twiddle.”

Well, after Mrs. Minny had gone, Mrs. Twiddle happened to look out of the window, and it was pouring with rain. The drops splashed down, and Mrs. Twiddle remembered the sheet and the coat hanging out on the line in the garden. She called loudly to Twiddle.

“Twiddle! Twiddle! Go out and bring in the sheet and the coat out of the wet.”

Twiddle was asleep. He awoke with a jump and got up out of his armchair. “Bring in the sheep and goat?” he said, sleepily. “What sheep and goat, dear?”

Mrs. Twiddle called downstairs again, impatiently. “It’s raining, Twiddle, that’s why I want the sheet and the coat brought indoors. Go and bring them in.”

Well, Twiddle still thought Mrs. Twiddle said “Sheep” and “Goat,” and he was rather surprised. So he called up again. “Do you really mean the sheep and the goat?”

Mrs. Twiddle thought he said “the sheet and the coat,” and she answered very crossly.

“Are you trying to be stupid, Twiddle? Is there anything funny about bringing in a sheet and a coat out of the rain? I don’t want them to get wet.”

Twiddle thought there was something extremely funny about bringing a sheep and a goat indoors, but he knew better than to say anything more to Mrs. Twiddle. He knew he had better do as he was told at once. So he went out of doors and looked round for the sheep and the goat.

There were two sheep and a goat in the field at the bottom of his garden. Mr. Twiddle sighed. The goat was tied up, but the sheep weren’t. What a bother it all was! Why should Mrs. Twiddle take it into her head to want to be so kind to sheep and goats all of a sudden?

Twiddle undid the gate at the bottom of the garden. He untied the goat and led it indoors to the kitchen. The goat was surprised, but it didn’t mind very much. It looked at the tablecloth, and thought it might do for a meal. Twiddle shut the door and went down the garden to fetch the two sheep in out of the rain.

It was easy enough to catch one, but the other was afraid of him and ran away. So Mr. Twiddle firmly led the first sheep into the kitchen, let it join the goat, and then shut the door on them. He went off to bring in the other sheep.

Now, Mrs. Twiddle was lying in bed, wondering if Twiddle had brought in the sheet and the coat quickly, before they were soaked. She heard a noise in the kitchen, and she called out:

“Twiddle! Twiddle!”

“Be-heeeee, hee!” said the goat pleasantly.

“Baa-haa-haa-haa!” said the sheep, nibbling at a fern in the window. Mrs. Twiddle lay and listened to this in great astonishment. Was Twiddle trying to be funny?

“Stop that noise,” she said sharply. “Did you bring in the sheet and the coat, Twiddle?”

“Ba-hah!” said the sheep politely.

“Be-hee-hee,” bleated the goat.

Mrs. Twiddle felt very angry. “Twiddle! Will you please stop being funny? I don’t like it when you act the goat like that! I’m asking you a question.”

“Ba-hah-haaaaa,” said the sheep wisely, and pulled over the plant-pot.

“Bee-hee-hee,” said the goat, and ate half the tablecloth. It pulled at it, and a jug of milk toppled over and fell with a crash to the floor. Mrs. Twiddle lay and listened in alarm. What in the wide world was Twiddle doing? She began to think he must have gone mad.

“Twiddle! What ever are you doing?”

She heard a pattering of feet. The goat was frightened when the milk fell over and ran round the kitchen. It bumped into the sheep, who at once jumped right over two pails and a chair, making a clatter. Mrs. Twiddle listened in amazement.

“Be-ha, hee, be-ha, hee!” she heard, as the goat and the sheep sang together in chorus.

“TWIDDLE! If you don’t stop being funny this very minute, I’ll come down and see what you’re up to!” shouted Mrs. Twiddle. This threat usually made Mr. Twiddle stop anything, but it didn’t stop the sheep or the goat. They had a very gay time chasing one another—at least, it was a gay time for the goat, who had discovered that a sheep was a nice solid thing to butt, so he kept on butting, and the sheep kept on trying to get away, and falling into everything it could.

Mrs. Twiddle could bear it no longer. She got out of bed and put on her dressing-gown, telling herself all the things she would do to Twiddle when she got downstairs. She went down, with a terrible frown on her face.

The goat chose that moment to be very frisky, and when Mrs. Twiddle appeared at the kitchen door, looking nice and plump and round, he thought she might be another kind of sheep. So he went up to her and butted her hard. Mrs. Twiddle sat down very suddenly and screamed.

The outer door opened, and in came Twiddle with the other sheep. “This was a most tiresome sheep to catch,” he began. “Get in—shoo!”

The sheep gambolled in, and the goat at once butted it. The sheep backed heavily into Twiddle and he sat down just as suddenly as Mrs. Twiddle had done. But Mrs. Twiddle was now getting up, and there was such an awful look in her eyes that Twiddle was quite frightened.

“Twiddle! WHAT is the meaning of this?” said Mrs. Twiddle, in such a terrible voice that the sheep and the goat stopped capering about, and listened too.

“Meaning of what?” asked Twiddle, from the floor. “You told me to bring the sheep and the goat in out of the rain, didn’t you?”

Mrs. Twiddle stared at Twiddle as if he was quite mad. “Twiddle—I said, bring in the sheet and the coat,” said Mrs. Twiddle. “Have you no sense? Why should I want sheep and goats in my kitchen?”

“Well, I really didn’t know, dear,” said Mr. Twiddle, going very red. “Never mind, now, never mind—you get back to bed quickly, and I’ll take these creatures to the field again, I’m so very sorry about it. I must be getting a bit deaf.”

Before Mrs. Twiddle could say another word—and she had plenty to say—Twiddle opened the kitchen door, and shooed out the surprised sheep and goat. They scampered down the path to the field. Twiddle slammed the kitchen door and went with them. He felt that he really couldn’t bear Mrs. Twiddle looking at him like that for one minute more!

He stayed out quite a long time in the rain, hoping that Mrs. Twiddle would be asleep when he got in. He crept in quietly and took off his wet boots. He quietly put a few more coals on the fire. He sat down in his armchair and quietly picked up his newspaper.

“She’s asleep,” he said. “What a bit of luck! Perhaps when she wakes up, she’ll think it’s all a dream!”

But a voice came down the stairs at that moment. “Twiddle! Is that you? Have you brought in the sheet and the coat as I told you?”

Well—will you believe it—Twiddle hadn’t! So out he went again into the rain and unpegged them from the line, soaking wet. And, unless I’m very much mistaken, Twiddle will be in bed with a cold himself to-morrow. And what a lot of uncomfortable things Mrs. Twiddle will say to him if they both have colds in bed together! Poor old Twiddle.