Читать книгу Five Go to Demon's Rocks - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Julian and Dick set to work to take a couple of old mattresses up to the loft, and some rugs and a couple of cushions for pillows. It was rather draughty! But what else was to be done? It was still too cold to sleep outside in a tent.

George was very sulky. ‘That scowl will grow on your face, George, if you aren’t careful,’ said Dick. ‘Cheer up, for goodness’ sake. It’s worse for your mother than it is for any of us. She’s going to be very busy this week.’

She certainly was! Meals for nine people, five of them very hungry children, were not easy to provide. Joan did an enormous amount of cooking, the girls helped with the housework, and the boys cycled off to Kirrin village in the mornings to do the shopping.

‘Why can’t that boy Tinker help?’ demanded George, on the second day they were at home. ‘What on earth does he think he’s doing now? Look at him out in the garden rushing all round, making a frightful noise. Tinker, shut up! You’ll disturb your father and mine.’

‘You shut up yourself!’ called back Tinker, rudely. ‘Can’t you see I’m a Bentley car, with a very powerful engine? And see how well it stops when I put on the brakes—no jerk at all! And hear the horn—marvellous!’

He gave a remarkably good imitation of a powerful car-horn. At once the study window shot up and two very angry men shouted together:

‘tinker! What do you think you’re doing, making that noise? You’ve been told to be quiet!’

Tinker began to explain about the Bentley, but as this didn’t seem to satisfy either of the angry men, he offered to be a little mini-car. ‘You see, it goes like this,’ said Tinker, beginning to move off, making a low purring noise, ‘and it ...’

But the window was slammed shut, so the little mini-car drove itself into the kitchen, and said it was very hungry, could it have a bun?

‘I don’t feed cars,’ said Joan. ‘I have no petrol. Go away.’

The mini-car purred out of the kitchen on its two legs, and went to look for passengers. Mischief the monkey scampered up, and ran up Tinker’s body to his shoulder.

‘You’re my passenger,’ said Tinker, and Mischief held on to his hair as he drove all round the garden at top speed, honking every now and again, but very quietly indeed.

‘He’s a funny child,’ said Joan to Mrs Kirrin, when she came into the kitchen. ‘Not bad really—him and his cars! I’ve never seen a child so mad on them in my life! One of these days he’ll turn into one!’

It began to rain next day and Tinker couldn’t go out. He nearly drove everyone mad, rushing about all over the house hooting, and purring like a car engine.

‘Now look,’ Joan said to him, when for the twentieth time he drove himself all round her kitchen. ‘I don’t care if you’re a Morris Minor, or an Austin, or a Consul, or even a Rolls—you just keep out of my kitchen! It’s a funny thing to think that a fine car like a Rolls can steal a bun out of my tin—it ought to be ashamed of itself!’

‘Well, if I can’t get petrol, I’ve got to get something to run on, haven’t I?’ demanded Tinker. ‘Look at Mischief—he’s helping himself to apples in the larder, but you don’t say anything to him!’

‘Oh lands sakes, is that creature in the larder again?’ cried poor Joan, rushing across the kitchen. ‘Who left it open, I’d like to know?’

‘Timmy did,’ said Tinker.

‘You little fibber!’ said Joan, as she shooed Mischief out of the larder. ‘Timmy would never do a thing like that. He’s as honest as the day, not like that little thief of a monkey of yours!’

‘Don’t you like him?’ said Tinker, sorrowfully. ‘He likes you.’

Joan glanced across at the tiny monkey. He sat huddled in a corner, his arms over his face, looking very small and sad. One small brown eye peeped out at Joan.

‘You’re a humbug, you are!’ said Joan. ‘Looking as if you’re the unhappiest monkey in the world, when all the time you’re thinking what mischief to do next. Here—come and get this biscuit, you rascal—and don’t you dare to go near Timmy this morning. He’s very very angry with you.’

‘What did Mischief do to Timmy?’ asked Tinker, surprised.

‘He went to Timmy’s dish and stole one of the bones there,’ said Joan. ‘Timmy growled like a roll of thunder! I really thought he would bite off the monkey’s tail. My word, you should have seen Mischief skedaddle!’

Mischief had now crept up cautiously to Joan, eyeing the biscuit she held. He had had one or two slaps from her for stealing, and he was rather wary of her quick right hand.

‘Here you are—take the biscuit, for goodness’ sake,’ said Joan. ‘And don’t look such a little misery, or I might suddenly find myself giving you another biscuit. Hallo—where’s he gone?’

The monkey had snatched the biscuit with one of his tiny paws, and had scampered away to the door. It was shut, so Tinker opened it for him. At once Timmy came in. He had been lying outside the door, sniffing the good smell of soup cooking on the stove.

Mischief leapt to the top of a chair-back and made a strange little whinnying sound—rather apologetic and sad. Timmy stood still and pricked up his ears. He understood animal language very well!

Mischief still held the biscuit. He leapt down to the seat of the chair—and then, to Joan’s enormous surprise, he held out the biscuit to Timmy! He chattered in a very small voice, and Timmy listened gravely. Then the big dog took the biscuit gently, threw it up into the air, chewed it once, and swallowed it!

‘Well, did you ever see anything like that before!’ said Joan, marvelling. ‘For all the world as if Mischief was apologizing to Timmy for stealing his bone—and offering him his biscuit to make up! Well, whatever will George say when she hears!’

Timmy licked his lips to see if any biscuit crumbs were left, and then put his big head forward, and gave the monkey a sudden lick on the tip of his funny little nose.

‘Timmy’s saying thank you!’ cried Tinker, in delight. ‘Now they’ll be friends—you see if they won’t!’

Joan was astonished and pleased. Well, well—to think of that monkey being clever enough to present Timmy with a biscuit that he very much wanted to eat himself! He wasn’t a bad little thing! She went upstairs to find George and tell her.

But George didn’t believe her. ‘Timmy would never take a biscuit from that silly little monkey!’ she said. ‘Never! You made all that up, Joan, just because you’re getting fond of Mischief. You wait till he runs off with your toasting-fork again!’

All the same, George went down with Joan, curious to see if the two animals were becoming friendly—and she saw a very strange sight indeed!

Mischief was on Timmy’s back, and Timmy was solemnly trotting round the kitchen, giving him a ride! The monkey was chattering in delight, and Tinker was shouting in glee.

‘Go faster, Tim, go faster! You’re a very fine horse! You’d easily win the Derby! Go on gallop!’

‘I don’t want Timmy to give rides to the monkey,’ said George. ‘Stop it, Timmy! You look silly.’

The monkey suddenly leaned forward and hugged Timmy round the neck. Then he slid off and looked at George as if to say, ‘All right! I won’t make your dog look silly!’

Timmy knew that George was cross and he went to lie down on the rug. At once Mischief came sidling across to him, and settled himself between Timmy’s big front paws, cuddling there without fear. Timmy bent his big head and licked him very gently.

Tears came suddenly to Joan’s eyes. That Timmy! He was just about the nicest dog in the whole world. ‘See that!’ she said to George. ‘Big-hearted and kind that dog of yours is! Don’t you scold him now for being great enough to make friends with a little creature who stole his bone!’

‘I’m not going to scold him!’ said George, astonished and proud. ‘He’s a marvel—the best dog in the Kingdom! Aren’t you, Timmy darling?’

And she went over to Timmy and stroked his big soft head. He whined lovingly and licked her, looking up as if to say, ‘Well, everything’s all right now—we’re all friends!’

Tinker had been watching from a corner of the kitchen, saying nothing. He was rather afraid of George and her quick temper. He was delighted when he saw her go over and pat Timmy, without even disturbing the monkey. In his joy he began to honk like a lorry, and startled everyone so much that they yelled at him.

‘Stop it, Tinker!’

‘Be quiet, you little nuisance!’

‘Woof!’ That was from Timmy.

‘You’ll have Mr Kirrin in here if you honk like that,’ said Joan. ‘Can’t you be something quiet for a change—a bicycle, for instance?’

Tinker thought that was quite a good idea. He ran round the kitchen and out into the hall, making a hissing noise like the sound of a bicycle’s wheels on the road. Then he decided to make a noise like a bicycle bell, and produced a very loud ringing noise indeed! It was so like the ringing of a bell that Mrs Kirrin ran out of the living-room, thinking there was someone at the front door!

Then the study door flew open and out came Mr Kirrin and Tinker’s father. Poor Tinker was caught and his father shook him so hard that two pencils shot out of his pocket and rolled over the floor.

Tinker began to yell—and how he could yell! George came out of the kitchen to see what was happening, and Dick, Julian and Anne raced down the stairs. Joan rushed out into the hall, too, and almost sent Mr Kirrin flying.

Then George did a very silly thing. She began to laugh—and when George laughed properly, her laugh was wonderful to hear! But neither Mr Kirrin nor Professor Hayling thought it wonderful—they merely thought it rude! George was laughing at them—and that wouldn’t do at all!

‘This is absolutely the last straw!’ shouted Mr Kirrin, his face red with rage. ‘First this boy ringing bells all over the place—and George encouraging him by laughing! I won’t have it! Don’t you know that very very important work is going on here, in Kirrin Cottage—work that may bring great benefits to the world! Fanny, send these children away somewhere. I won’t have them in the house, disturbing us when we are doing such important work. Do you hear? send them away! And that’s my last word!’

And he and the Professor stalked back to the study and banged the door. well! Now what was to be done?