Читать книгу Five on Finniston Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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A big man came into the kitchen, very like the twins to look at. He stooped, and seemed tired. He didn’t smile, but just nodded.

‘Trevor, here are the visitors I told you about,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Look, this is Julian and ...’

‘More visitors?’ said Trevor with a groan. ‘Good heavens—what a crowd of children! Where’s that American boy? I’ve got a bone to pick with him. He tried to set the tractor going by himself this morning, and ...’

‘Oh Trevor—never mind about that now. Just wash and come and have your tea,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I’ve kept some of your favourite scones for you.’

‘Don’t want any tea,’ said her husband. ‘Can’t stop—except for just one cup, and that I’ll take into the dairy. I’ve got to go and see to the milking. Bob’s off today.’

‘We’ll help, Dad!’ said the twins speaking together, as usual, and they got up from the table at once.

‘No—you sit down,’ said their mother. ‘You’ve been on the go from seven o’clock this morning. Sit down and finish your tea in peace.’

‘I could do with your help, twins,’ said their father, as he went through the door towards the dairies, ‘but now your mother’s got so many on her hands, she’ll need you more than I do!’

‘Mrs Philpot—let the twins go if they want to,’ said Julian at once. ‘We can help, you know—we’re used to helping at home.’

‘And what’s more, we like it,’ said Anne. ‘Do let us, Mrs Philpot—we’ll feel much more at home then. Can’t we clear away and wash up and all that, while the twins go and help with the milking?’

‘you let ’em help!’ shouted old Great-Grandad suddenly from his corner, making Timmy and Snippet leap to their feet, startled, ‘what are children coming to nowadays, waited on hand and foot? pah!’

‘Now, now, Grandad,’ said poor Mrs Philpot. ‘Don’t you start worrying. We can manage fine.’

The old man made a loud, explosive noise, and banged his hand down on the arm of his chair. ‘what i say is this ...’

But he got no further, for the sound of footsteps could be heard in the hall, coming towards the kitchen, and loud, American voices came nearer and nearer.

‘See here, Pop—I wanna come with you! This is a dead-and-alive place. You take me up to London with you, aw, Pop, go on, do!’

‘That the Americans?’ asked Dick, turning to the twins. Their faces had gone as black as thunder. They nodded. In came a burly man, looking rather odd in smart town clothes, and a fat pasty-faced boy of about eleven. The father stood at the door and looked round rubbing his hands.

‘Hiya, folks! We’ve bin over to that swell old town and picked up some fine souvenirs—my, my, they were cheap as dirt! We late for tea? Hallo, who’re all these folks?’

He grinned round at Julian and the others. Julian stood up politely. ‘We’re four cousins,’ he said. ‘We’ve come to stay here.’

‘Stay here? Where you gonna sleep, then?’ demanded the boy, pulling up a chair to the table. ‘This is a one-eyed place, ain’t it, Pop—no washbasins, no ...’

‘Shut up,’ said the twins together, and gave the boy such a glare that Anne stared in astonishment.

‘Aw, go on, I can say what I like, can’t I?’ said the boy. ‘Free country, isn’t it? Gee, you should just see America! That’s something! Mrs Philpot, I’ll have a bit of that cake—looks good to me.’

‘can’t you say please?’ roared a voice from the corner. That was Great-Grandad of course! But the boy took no notice, and merely held out his plate, while Mrs Philpot cut him an enormous slice of cake.

‘I’ll have the same as Junior, Mrs Philpot mam,’ said the American, and sat down at the table. He held out his plate too. ‘Say, you should see the things we’ve bought. We’ve had a day, haven’t we, Junior?’

‘Sure, Pop,’ said Junior. ‘Say, can’t I have an iced drink? Look-a-here—who’s going to drink hot tea on a day like this!’

‘I’ll get you some iced orangeade,’ said Mrs Philpot, rising.

‘let him get it himself! little varmint!’ That was Great-Grandad again, of course. But the twins were already up and on their way to fetch the orangeade themselves. George caught sight of their faces as they passed her, and had a shock of surprise. Goodness—how those twins hated that boy!

‘That old Grand-daddy of yours must be a bit of a nuisance to you,’ said the American in a low voice to Mrs Philpot. ‘Always butting in, isn’t he? Rude old fellow, too.’

‘now don’t you set there whispering!’ shouted Grandad, ‘i can hear every word!’

‘Now, now, Grandad, don’t upset yourself,’ said poor Mrs Philpot. ‘You just sit there and have a nap.’

‘No. I’m going out again,’ said Great-Grandad, heaving himself up. ‘There’s some people that fair make me ill!’

And out he went leaning on his stick, a magnificent figure with his head of snow-white hair and his long beard.

‘Like someone out of the Old Testament,’ said Anne to Dick. Timmy got up and followed the old man to the door, with Snippet close behind him. Junior saw Timmy at once.

‘I say! Look at that big dog!’ he said. ‘Who’s he? I’ve not seen him before, Hey, you, come and have a bun.’

Timmy took not the slightest notice. George addressed Junior in an icy voice. ‘That’s my dog Timmy. I don’t allow anyone to feed him except myself.’

‘Shucks!’ said Junior and threw the cake down on the floor, so that it slid to Tim’s feet. ‘That’s for you dog!’

Timmy looked down at the cake, and stood perfectly still. Then he looked at George. ‘Come here, Timmy,’ said George, and he walked straight to her. The cake lay on the floor half-broken into crumbs.

‘My dog is not going to eat that,’ said George. ‘Better pick it up, hadn’t you? It’s made a bit of a mess on the floor.’

‘Pick it up yourself,’ said Junior, helping himself to another bun. ‘My, my—what a glare you’ve got! Makes me want my sunglasses, brother!’ He gave George a sudden sharp dig in the ribs, and she gasped. Timmy was beside her in a moment, growling so deeply that Junior slid out of his seat in alarm.

‘Say, Pop—this dog’s fierce!’ he said. ‘He made to bite me!’

‘He did not,’ said George. ‘But he might bite if you don’t do what I said, and pick up that bun!’

‘Now, now,’ said Mrs Philpot, really distressed. ‘Leave it—it can be swept up afterwards. Will you have another piece of cake, Mr Henning?’

It really was an embarrassing meal, and Anne longed for it to be over. Junior quietened down considerably when he saw Timmy lying down between his chair and George’s, but his father made up for that by talking non-stop about the ‘wunnerful’ things he had bought that day. Everyone was extremely bored. The twins came back with a jug of orangeade, which they placed on the table, with two glasses, in case Mr Henning wanted some. They then disappeared.

‘Where have they gone?’ demanded Junior, having poured a glass of orangeade straight down his throat in a most remarkable manner. ‘Gee, that was good.’

‘The twins have gone to help with the milking, I expect,’ said Mrs Philpot, looking suddenly very weary. Julian looked at her. She must find these meals very tiring, he thought, coping with so many people. Junior piped up at once.

‘I’ll go and help with the milking,’ he said, and slid off his chair.

‘I’d rather you didn’t, Junior,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘You upset the cows a bit last time, you know.’

‘Aw gee—that was because I was new to it,’ said Junior. Julian looked at Mr Henning, expecting him to forbid Junior to go, but he said nothing. He lighted a cigarette and threw the match down on the floor.

George scowled when she saw Junior heading for the door. How dare he go out to the milking against the wishes of his hostess? She murmured a few words to Timmy, and he got up at once and ran to the door, barring it against Junior.

‘Get outa my way, you,’ said Junior, stopping. Timmy growled. ‘Say, call him back, will you?’ said Junior, turning round. No one said anything. Mrs Philpot rose and began to gather things together. It seemed to George as if she had tears in her eyes. No wonder, if this kind of thing happened every day!

As Timmy stood like a statue in the doorway, giving small threatening growls every now and again Junior decided to give up. He dearly longed to give the dog a kick, but didn’t dare to. He walked back, to his father.

‘Say, Pop—coming for a walk?’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Without a word father and son walked out of the other door. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

‘You go and sit down and have a rest, Mrs Philpot,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll do the washing-up. We’d love to!’

‘Well—it’s really kind of you,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I’ve been on the go all day, and twenty minutes’ rest will do me good. I’m afraid Junior gets on my nerves. I do hope Timmy won’t bite him!’

‘He’ll probably give him a nip before long,’ said George cheerfully, collecting cups and saucers with Anne. ‘What are you boys going to do? Go to the milking-shed?’

‘Yes. We’ve milked cows plenty of times,’ said Dick. ‘Nice job! I like the smell of cows. See you later, girls—and if that little Pest tries any tricks, just give us a call! I’d love to rub his face into that crumby mess on the floor!’

‘I’m just going to sweep it up,’ said Anne. ‘See you at supper-time!’

The boys went out, whistling. Mrs Philpot had disappeared. Only George, Anne and Timmy were left, for Snippet had gone out with the Harries.

‘I rather wish we hadn’t come,’ said George, carrying out a tray to the scullery, ‘It’s an awful lot for Mrs Philpot to do. Still—if she needs the money ...’

‘Oh well—we can help—and we’ll be out most of the day,’ said Anne. ‘We shan’t see much of Junior—little beast!’

You’re wrong, Anne. You’ll see far too much of him! It’s a good thing Timmy’s there—he’s the only one that can manage people like Junior!