Читать книгу The Children of Willow Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Just then the children heard a rumbling noise outside and they rushed to the window.

“It’s the first van!” yelled Rory. “Look, there it comes—in at the gates. Goodness, there’s only just room!”

“That’s good,” said Mummy, pleased. “Only one van is arriving tonight—this one. It has our beds and bedding in, so that we can make do for the night. The others come first thing tomorrow.”

The great van rumbled up to the door. The back was let down, and soon the children were watching four men carrying their beds, mattresses, pillows and everything into the house.

“You’re in the way, children,” their mother said at last, after Penny had nearly been knocked over by the end of somebody’s bed. “Go and explore the farm, there’s good children. Surely you want to see what it’s like! You’ve seen the house from top to bottom—now go and see if you like the farmyard and the barns and the sheds!”

“Oh yes!” cried Rory. “Come on, all of you. Let’s explore the back, where the barns are.”

Off they rushed, munching large slices of cake, which their mother had given them. The farmyard at the back was rather exciting. It was a big squarish place, surrounded by sheds and stables. No hens pecked or clucked there. Those were to come. No pigs looked out of the sty. No cattle stamped in the sheds, and no horses looked out of the stable-doors.

“Uncle Tim has promised to buy all we want,” said Rory. “I say—won’t it be gorgeous when we’ve got hens and ducks all over the place, just like we had at Cherry Tree Farm? I miss the cackling and clucking, don’t you? Look—there’s the duck-pond over there.”

The children looked. Through a field-gate gleamed a round pond, set with rushes at one end. Willow trees drooped over it. A moorhen swam across the water, its head bobbing to and fro like a clockwork bird’s!

The children peeped into the big barn. It was so large that it seemed almost like a church to them. It was dark and peaceful.

Much hard work had been done there. Men and women had laboured from dawn to dusk, had been tired and happy, and the old barn seemed to be dreaming of those long-ago days as the children walked inside.

It was tiled in dark red tiles, and green and yellow moss grew thickly over the roof. Some of the tiles were missing, and the daylight came in through the holes.

“We shall have to see that the roof is mended,” said Rory, solemnly. “Uncle Tim always said that a good farmer looks every day at his roofs, gates and fences. He said that a nail in time saves nine, and a tile in time saves a hundred!”

“Well, it will be fun to go round each day and look at everything,” said Benjy. “I say, look—are those our sheep up there on the hill?”

Everyone looked. There were about fifty sheep dotted about on the hillside—and with them were many little lambs. In a sheltered place, tucked away behind a copse of trees, was the shepherd’s hut. The shepherd stood outside, looking up to the sky.

Tucked away behind a copse of trees, was the shepherd’s hut.

“We’ve got a shepherd—look!” said Rory. “I wonder if he’s as nice as Uncle Tim’s at Cherry Tree Farm? Shall we go and talk to him today—or shall we explore all the rest of the out-buildings?”

“Oh, let’s explore,” said Penny. “I want to see the cow-sheds—I always like the smell of those.”

So into the empty sheds they went, where the sweetish smell of cows still hung. They ran into the stables and pulled at the hay still left in the stalls. They went into the little barn, where a wooden ladder ran straight up to lofts above.

They all climbed the ladder. A few husks of wheat blew about the floor. The loft had been used as a storing place for many years. In another loft nearby were a few old rotten apples.

“Oh—this is where they used to put the apples,” said Sheila. “I say—won’t it be fun to pick the apples in the autumn, and the pears too, and bring them up here to store away!”

“Doesn’t it smell nice!” said Penny, sniffing the loft. “Years and years and years of apples I can smell!”

The others laughed.

“Let’s go to the orchard now and see what we can find there,” said Sheila. “Auntie Bess said that Willow Farm had fine fruit trees. Come on!”

Down the steep wooden ladder they went. Rory held out his hand to help Penny, as she scrambled down too—but she would not take his hand.

“I wish you wouldn’t think I’m still a baby,” she said crossly. “I can get up and down ladders just as well as you can!”

She fell over a stick in the yard and Rory laughed. He helped her up. “You’re not a baby,” he said, “but you’re a little goose at times. A gosling! I say—I wonder if we shall keep geese.”

“Aren’t they rather hissy?” asked Penny, remembering an alarming walk one day when she had come across a line of hissing geese who had looked at her quite fiercely.

“Very hissy and very cackly,” said Rory, solemnly. “You’ll have to take my hand every time you go past them, little gosling!”

Penny tried to look cross, but she couldn’t. She skipped along in front of the others to a big gate that led into the orchard. It was a really lovely place.

Daffodils were in bloom beneath the fruit trees. They nodded and danced in the pale evening sun. Penny picked a bunch to take back to her mother.

“What fruit trees are these?” asked Sheila, looking down the straight rows.

“Apples—pears—plums,” said Rory, who was quite good at telling one tree from another. “And—oh look—those must be cherries in the next field! They are all bursting into bud! They will be heavenly in a week or two. Golly! What fun we shall have in the fruit-picking season!”

They wandered through the orchard, where hundreds of daffodils danced for them. They came to a little stream, whose banks were set with yellow primroses. A moorhen looked at them from some rushes nearby and then ran away.

“Moorhens always seem to be running away,” said Penny. “I’d like to see one close. Rory, will the moorhens nest on our farm, do you think? I’d so like to see a whole crowd of black babies going along behind their mother. Do you remember Tammylan showing us a nest once, and we saw all the babies tumbling out into the water to hide themselves?”

The mention of Tammylan made the children remember him and long to see him.

“We must see old Tammylan tomorrow!” said Benjy. “And I must get back my squirrel Scamper!”

Tammylan had given Benjy the squirrel for his last birthday. Scamper had been a tiny baby squirrel when Benjy had first had him—now he was full-grown and the boy longed to see him. He had given Scamper back to Tammylan in the New Year, because he had not been allowed to take the squirrel to school with him—and Tammylan had promised to take great care of him.

“We shall be nearer to Tammylan’s cave here than we were at Cherry Tree Farm,” said Rory, pleased. “We can take the short cut over Christmas Common, and then down into the valley where Tammylan lives. That’s good. Maybe he will help us a bit with the farm too. He knows such a lot about everything.”

“Dear old Tammylan,” said Benjy. “We’ve had some good times with him—we made friends with nearly every creature of the countryside because of him!”

A bell rang loudly from the farmhouse. The children turned. “That’s Mummy,” said Penny. “She wants us back. Well, that cake was good—but I’m hungry all over again now—and I’m getting cold too. Oh, what a lovely place Willow Farm is—aren’t we lucky to come and live here!”

“We jolly well are!” said Benjy. “Come on—let’s go this way. It leads through the farmhouse garden. Mother says she is going to grow her flowers there, and her herbs. And look, through that white gate is the soft fruit—the gooseberry bushes, the currants, raspberries and strawberries. Mummy will be kept busy making jam, won’t she?”

“Oooh! I shall help her with that,” said Penny, at once, thinking with joy of great fat red strawberries and sweet raspberries.

“I shouldn’t like you to help me with jam-making!” said Sheila. “I know what would happen to all the fruit. There wouldn’t be much left for jam!”

Penny laughed. She felt very happy. Her legs were tired now and would not skip.

She walked along beside the others and suddenly yawned loudly.

“Now Penny, for goodness’ sake don’t start yawning,” said Benjy. “We shall all be sent off to bed at once if you do. That’s just like you!”

“Sorry,” said Penny. “I promise I won’t yawn when I get indoors. It’s awful the way grown-ups always seem to think you are tired out as soon as you do even the tiniest yawn. My mouth sometimes really aches with trying not to yawn.”

“Well, you let it ache tonight,” said Rory. “The first evening in a new home is far too exciting to be spoilt by being sent off to bed because of a yawn!”

They clattered into the farmyard. The big kitchen door stood wide open. A pleasant noise of crackling wood came to the children’s ears as soon as they opened the door.

Their mother had decided to use the kitchen that night, and she had lit a fire in the big hearth. She had thrown on heaps of dry wood, and the fire crackled merrily, lighting up the kitchen gaily. Shadows danced and flickered. It was fun to come in and see such a fine fire. The kettle boiled on a stove nearby, and the big old farmhouse table, which had been bought with the house, was spread with a cloth.

The children’s father lit some candles, which he stood on the table and on the mantelpiece. The electric current had not yet been switched on. Everyone was to have candles until proper shades and lanterns were bought. The children all thought that candles were much nicer than anything. Even Penny was told she was old enough to have one to take upstairs. She had been rather afraid that her mother would think her too little.

The children looked at the table. There were loaves of white and brown bread, home-made jam given to them by Aunt Bess, a big currant cake, a jar of potted meat, and a big jug for hot cocoa. It looked good to them!

“There are no chairs yet,” said their mother. “Take what you want and go and eat it sitting on the broad window-sills while I make some cocoa.”

So the children spread their bread with butter, and with potted meat or jam, and then took their slices to eat on the window-seat. It was lovely to sit there, looking out at the darkening fields, or into the big, friendly kitchen, and see the leaping flames of the log-fire. The candles burned steadily, but the shadows jumped about the kitchen as if they were alive.

“This is nice,” said Penny, in a dreamy voice. “I feel as if I’m asleep and dreaming some lovely dream. I feel ...”

Rory gave her such a nudge that she nearly fell off the window-seat. She glared at him. “Why did you ...” she began.

“You would start talking about being asleep and dreaming, just to make Mummy think we are all tired out!” said Rory, in a low, fierce voice. Then he spoke in his usual loud clear voice. “May I have a slice of cake, please?”

“Come and get it,” said his mother, cutting him a large slice. “Aren’t you tired, Rory? You’ve had a long day, all of you.”

“Tired!” said Rory, as if he had never in his life heard the word before. “Tired! Why should any of us be tired, Mummy? Gracious, I’m so wide awake that I could go and milk the cows or count the sheep or fetch in eggs!”

“Well, we won’t ask you to do any of those things, Rory,” said his father, with a chuckle. “If anyone is tired, it’s your mother! She has made all your beds—they are ready for the night.”

“Yes—and I really think I’m just about ready for mine,” said Mummy, unexpectedly. “I feel as if I’ve done ten days’ work in one. I’ve loved it all—and tomorrow will be fun, welcoming the other vans and arranging all the furniture. But I do feel I’d better have a long night, or I shan’t be able to do a thing tomorrow.”

“Oh Mummy—do you mean to say we’ve all got to go to bed?” said Penny in dismay. “And I’ve been trying so hard not to yawn!”

Everybody laughed at Penny’s face. Then Mummy yawned. She put up her hand but there was no hiding it—and at once everyone else yawned too. They were all tired—and it was lovely to be able to yawn and feel that bed-time was not far away after all!

“As a matter of fact I’m really looking forward to going to bed,” said Sheila. “I keep thinking of that nice room Penny and I are sharing together. It will be so cosy at night.”

“And I keep thinking of my own tiny room, with its slanting ceiling, and jutting-out window,” said Benjy. “Mummy, can I shut the shutters?”

“Certainly not,” said his mother. “You must get in all the air you can, silly boy, not shut it out. We shall only use the shutters for show—unless a tremendous storm comes and we put up the shutters to keep the wind out.”

“Oooh—I hope that happens,” said Penny, imagining a most terrific storm battering against the windows. Then she yawned again—so widely that Rory wondered how she could manage to make her small mouth so big! Then all the children yawned loudly at once, and their mother got up.

“Light your candles and off to bed, all of you!” she said. “I’ll just wash up—and then I shall go too.”

The children lit their candles. It was fun. Their mother said she would look in and say good night to them, so they kissed their father good night and went up the old stairs one by one. The candles flickered as they went. The old house seemed peaceful and friendly as they clattered up the stairs. Willow Farm! They were living there at last. It seemed too good to be true.

They went to their rooms. Their beds were put up, and the covers turned down. Their night-dresses and pyjamas were ready. Their tooth-brushes were in the bathroom so one by one they went to wash and clean their teeth.

“After all, I am tired,” said Benjy, as he turned in at the door of his own little room. “I don’t believe I could have kept awake very long!”

They all said good night. The two girls went to the room they shared, and each got into her own little bed. Rory had the room next door. They heard his bed creak as he got into it.

“Good night!” he yelled. “Won’t it be fun to wake up at Willow Farm tomorrow morning! I guess I shan’t know where I am for a minute or two.”

“Good night!” called Benjy. “Tomorrow we’ll go and see old Tammylan. Good old Tammylan!”

Then there was silence—and when the children’s mother came up in ten minutes’ time, she couldn’t say good night—because every single child was fast asleep!