Читать книгу Five on Finniston Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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The twins stalked out of the farm-house and took the two boys round the dairy shed, and up to an enormous barn. One of them pushed open the great door.

‘I say!’ said Julian, gazing into the dark barn. ‘I never saw such a fine barn in all my life! It’s as old as the hills—look at those beams soaring up into the roof—it reminds me of a cathedral, somehow. I wonder why they built the roof so high. What do you store in here, twins?’

‘Sacks of meal,’ said the Harries together, opening and shutting their mouths as one. The two boys saw a couple of camp-beds in a corner of the barn.

‘Look here,’ said Julian, ‘if you really would rather sleep here alone, we’ll sleep in the little room off the dairy that your mother spoke of.’

Before the twins could answer, a shrill barking came from the direction of the camp-beds, and the boys saw a tiny black poodle there, standing up, quivering in every hair.

‘What a tiny thing!’ said Julian. ‘Is he yours, twins? What’s his name?’

‘Snippet,’ came the answer from both at once. ‘Come here, Snippet!’

At once the tiny black poodle hurled himself off the camp-bed and raced over to them. He fawned on them all, barking in delight, licking everyone in turn. Dick picked him up, but the twins at once clutched Snippet themselves.

‘He’s our dog!’ they said so fiercely that Dick backed away.

‘All right, all right—you can have him. But be careful Tim doesn’t eat him!’ he said. A look of fear came over the faces of the Harries, and they turned to one another, anxiously.

‘It’s all right,’ said Julian, hastily. ‘Tim’s gentle with small things. You needn’t be afraid. I say—why do you have to be so dumb? It really wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit friendly. And do let us sleep in your old room—we really don’t mind.’

The twins looked at each other again, as if reading one another’s thoughts, and then they turned gravely to the boys, not looking quite so unfriendly.

‘We will all sleep here,’ they said. ‘We will fetch the other camp-beds.’ And off they marched, Snippet running excitedly at their heels.

Julian scratched his head. ‘Those twins make me feel peculiar,’ he said. ‘I somehow don’t feel they are quite real. The way they act and speak together makes me feel as if they’re puppets or something.’

‘They’re just jolly rude and unfriendly,’ said Dick, bluntly. ‘Oh well—they won’t get in our way much. I vote we explore the farm tomorrow. It looks quite a big one—spreading out over the hill-slopes everywhere. I wonder if we could get a ride on a tractor?’

At that moment a bell rang loudly from the direction of the house. ‘What’s that for?’ said Dick. ‘Tea, I hope!’

The twins came back at that moment with two more camp-beds, which they proceeded to set up as far from their own as possible. Dick went to give a hand, but they waved him off, and put up the beds most efficiently and quickly by themselves.

‘Tea is ready,’ they said, standing up when the beds were finished, and blankets and pillows set out on them. ‘We will show you where to wash.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dick and Julian together, and then grinned at one another. ‘Better be careful,’ said Julian, ‘or we’ll catch their habit of speaking exactly at the same moment. I say—isn’t that poodle an amusing little fellow—look at him stalking that jackdaw!’

A black jackdaw, the nape of his neck showing grey as he ran in front of Snippet, had flown down from somewhere in the roof of the barn. As Snippet danced after him he ran behind sacks, scurried into corners and led the little dog such a dance that the two boys roared. Even the twins smiled.

‘Chack!’ said the jackdaw, and rose into the air. He settled himself neatly on the middle of the poodle’s back, and Snippet promptly went mad, and tore about the barn at top speed.

‘Roll over, Snippet!’ shouted the Harries, and Snippet at once flung himself on his back—but the jackdaw, with a triumphant ‘chack’ rose at once into the air, and alighted on one twin’s head.

‘I say—is he tame?’ said Dick. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Nosey. He’s ours. He fell down a chimney and broke his wing,’ said the twins. ‘So we kept him till it was well and now he won’t leave us.’

‘Gosh!’ said Dick, staring at them. ‘Did you really say all that—or was it the jackdaw? You can talk properly, after all.’

Nosey pecked at the twin’s ear nearest to him, and the twin gave a yell. ‘Stop it, Nosey!’ The jackdaw rose into the air, with a ‘chack-chack-chack’ that sounded very like a laugh, and disappeared somewhere in the roof.

Just then the two girls came to find the boys in the barn, sent by Mrs Philpot, who was sure they hadn’t heard the bell. Timmy was with them, of course, sniffing into every corner, enjoying the farm-smells everywhere. They came to the barn and looked in.

‘Oh, there you!’ called Anne. ‘Mrs Philpot said we ...’

Timmy began to bark, and she stopped. He had caught sight of Snippet sniffing behind the sacks, still hunting for the cheeky jackdaw. He stood still and stared. What in the wide world was that funny little black creature? He gave another loud bark and shot over towards the poodle, who gave a terrified yelp and leapt into the arms of one of the twins.

‘Take your dog away,’ said both twins, fiercely, glaring at the four.

‘It’s all right—he won’t hurt Snippet,’ said George, advancing on Timmy and taking hold of his collar. ‘He really won’t.’

‘take your dog away!’ shouted the twins, and up in the roof somewhere the jackdaw said, ‘chack, chack, chack!’ just as fiercely.

‘All right, all right,’ said George, glaring as angrily as the twins. ‘Come on, Tim. That poodle wouldn’t be more than a mouthful for you, anyway!’

They all went back to the farm-house in silence, Snippet having been left behind on the camp-bed belonging to one of the twins. They cheered up when they came into the big, cool kitchen. Tea was now laid on the farm-house table, a big solid affair of old, old oak. Chairs were set round and it all looked very home-like.

‘Hot scones,’ said George, lifting the lid of a dish. ‘I never thought I’d like hot scones on a summer’s day, but these look heavenly. Running with butter! Just how I like them!’

The four looked at the home-made buns and biscuits and the great fruit cake. They stared at the dishes of home-made jam, and the big plate of ripe plums. Then they looked at Mrs Philpot, sitting behind a very big teapot, pouring out cups of tea.

‘You mustn’t spoil us, Mrs Philpot,’ said Julian, thinking that really his hostess was doing too much. ‘Please don’t let us make too much work for you!’

A loud, commanding voice suddenly made them all jump. Sitting in a big wooden armchair near the window was someone they hadn’t seen—a burly old man with a shock of snowy white hair and a luxurious white beard almost down to his waist. His eyes were startlingly bright as he looked across at them.

‘too much work! What’s that you say? too much work? Ha, people nowadays don’t know what work is, that they don’t! Grumble, grumble, grumble, asking for this and expecting that! Pah! pah, I say!’

‘Now now, Grandad,’ said Mrs Philpot, gently. ‘You just sup your tea and rest. You’ve been out on the farm all day, and it’s too much work for you.’

That set the old man off again, ‘too much work! Now let me tell you something. When I was a young lad, I ... hallo, who’s this?’

It was Timmy! He had been startled by the sudden shouting of the old man, and had stood up, his hackles rising, and a low growl down in his throat. And then a very curious thing happened.

Timmy walked slowly over to the fierce old man, stood by him—and laid his head gently on his knee! Everyone stared in astonishment, and George could hardly believe her eyes!

At first the old man took no notice. He just let Timmy stay there, and went on with his shouting. ‘No one knows anything these days. They don’t know a good sheep or a good bull or a good dog. They ...’

Timmy moved his head a little, and the old man stopped again. He looked down at Timmy, and patted him on the head. ‘Now here’s a dog—a real dog. A dog that could be the best friend any man ever had. Ah, he reminds me of my old True, he does.’

George was staring in amazement at Timmy. ‘He’s never done a thing like that before,’ she said.

‘All dogs are like that with old Grandad,’ said Mrs Philpot softly. ‘Don’t mind his shouting. He’s like that. See—your Timmy is lying down by Grandad—now they’ll both be happy. Grandad will have his tea and be nice and quiet. Don’t take any notice of him now.’

Still astonished, the children ate a marvellous tea, and were soon talking eagerly to Mrs Philpot, asking her questions about the farm.

‘Yes, of course you can go on the tractor. And we’ve an old Land-Rover too—you can motor round the farm in that, if you like. Wait till my husband comes in—he’ll tell you what you can do.’

Nobody saw a little black shadow come in at the door, and sidle softly over to Grandad—Snippet the poodle! He had left the barn and come to the kitchen he loved. It was only when Mrs Philpot turned round to ask the old man to have another cup of tea that she saw a very strange sight indeed. She nudged the twins, and they turned to look.

They saw Timmy lying peacefully down on Grandad’s big feet—and Snippet the poodle lying between Timmy’s great front paws! Well—what an astonishing sight, to be sure!

‘Grandad’s happy now,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Two dogs at his feet. And now, look—here’s my husband! Come along in, Trevor—we’re all here, the dogs as well!’