Читать книгу Look Out Secret Seven - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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‘Holidays at last!’ said Peter, coming in at the back door, and flinging his school satchel right across the kitchen. It struck the chair that the cat was lying in, and she gave a yowl of fright and disappeared at top speed through the open window.

‘Now what did you want to frighten old Puss for?’ demanded Cookie, rolling out pastry fiercely. ‘Sleeping there peacefully after catching mice all night in your father’s barn!’

‘I didn’t know she was there,’ said Peter. ‘Honestly I didn’t. May I have a dig into that jampot, Cookie?’

‘You may not,’ said Cookie. ‘Where’s your sister? Oh my, oh my—holidays again, and you two poking round my kitchen all the time. What a life!’

‘Cookie dear, you’ll have two people to run your errands, and scrape out dishes, and tell you that your apple-pie is the best in the world,’ said Peter. ‘And ...’

‘Yes—and two people taking buns out of my tin, and wanting raisins to eat at all times, and asking for home-made lemonade, and ...’

Janet, Peter’s sister, came running in, flung her arms round Cookie and gave her a smacking kiss.

‘What’s for dinner?’ she said.

‘You two don’t think of anything but food,’ grumbled Cookie, giving her pastry a good roll. ‘You’d better go into the sitting-room to your mother. Your godmother’s with her—and if I know anything about her, she’ll have brought you a present—sweets or something.’

Peter and Janet went at once to the sitting-room. They were very fond of their godmother, Auntie Lou. They each gave her a hug, and informed her that the holidays had now begun.

‘So we can come over and see you, if you like,’ said Peter.

‘Wait till you are asked, Peter,’ said his mother. ‘And what have you been doing to your knees? I cannot think how you get them so black. Anyone would suppose you walked back from school on them over all the mud you could find.’

‘I’ll go and wash them,’ said Peter, looking down at them in horror. ‘Mother, I honestly don’t know how they ...’

‘Well, just let me give you my little holiday present,’ said his godmother. ‘I can’t wait while you wash your knees, I have to catch the bus. I imagine you still like chocolates?’

And she handed over to him a large tin box, so large that Peter and Janet couldn’t believe it contained just chocolates. ‘I know you have a club of some sort,’ she said. ‘Seven or eight of you, aren’t there? Well, I thought you’d like this tin of chocolate biscuits for your next meeting.’

Peter took off the lid—and stared in delight.

‘Janet, look—dozens and dozens of chocolate biscuits of all kinds! Gosh! Mother, I shall call a meeting at once. Oh, Auntie Lou, you are generous! Are they really all for us?’

‘For you and your friends,’ said his godmother, getting up. ‘Now I really must catch my bus. Come and see me off.’

So off they all went to see Auntie Lou safely into the bus. Then back to the sitting-room—and the tin of biscuits.

‘Let’s not eat a single one ourselves till we call a meeting of the Secret Seven,’ said Peter. ‘We’ll offer them to Mother and Cookie, but we won’t take any ourselves. It’s ages since we had a good meeting—and these will make a meeting go like anything.’

‘We’ll call one tomorrow,’ said Janet, happily. ‘Oh, to think it’s holidays again—with meetings down in the shed—and passwords and badges, and ...’

‘Passwords—passwords—now what in the world was our last one?’ said Peter.

‘That’s easy,’ said Janet. ‘We chose “Holidays” because we knew the hols would be here when we had the next meeting. I bet everyone remembers it. Let’s go round to all the members tonight—or telephone—and tell them there’s a meeting tomorrow—at, say, five o’clock.’

‘But that’s teatime,’ said Peter.

‘Of course, silly—and those chocolate biscuits will be just right for then,’ said Janet.

‘Yes—they will,’ said Peter. ‘Couldn’t you write notes to tell the others of the meeting, Janet? It’s—well, it’s a bit more official.’

‘You write them then,’ said Janet. ‘You’re more official than I am. You’re the head of the club.’

‘Well—perhaps it would be quicker to telephone,’ said Peter. ‘Ha—it will be grand to have the Secret Seven going again. I do hope something exciting turns up.’

‘It usually does,’ said Janet. ‘Especially if that awful Susie is about.’

‘Jack says Susie’s been worse than ever lately,’ said Peter. ‘If I had a sister like Susie I’d sit on her all the time, and ...’

‘Then you’d have a mighty uncomfortable seat!’ said Janet. ‘Nobody’s ever got the better of Susie yet. I bet she’ll come to the meeting tomorrow, if she can.’

‘Well, she won’t get in, if she does come,’ said Peter. ‘Ah, Scamper—there you are. Why weren’t you here to welcome us back for the holidays?’

Scamper was their lovely golden spaniel. He had been with Matt the shepherd up on the hills, playing with Shadow, Matt’s faithful old sheep-dog. Then he had suddenly remembered that Peter had told him the holidays began today. Holidays! Scamper knew that word well—it meant days and days of Peter’s and Janet’s company, it meant walks, and games, and titbits of all kinds.

So Scamper had given Shadow a sudden apologetic bark, and, to the collie’s surprise, had raced down the hill as fast as a hare, his long ears flapping up and down. Holidays!

Soon he was barking in delight round the two children—and then he suddenly sniffed chocolates. Ha, chocolates—better still!

‘You shall have the very first one,’ said Janet, taking a biscuit from the top layer. ‘Catch!’

Snap! It was in Scamper’s mouth—one crunch, and it was gone!

‘Biscuits are really wasted on you, Scamper,’ said Janet. ‘I don’t believe you even taste them. We’re calling a meeting of the Secret Seven tomorrow—you’d like to come, wouldn’t you?’

‘Woof!’ said Scamper, joyfully, his stump of a tail wagging like clockwork. Meetings! Biscuits! Holidays! Woof, woof—life was going to be fun!