Читать книгу The Hidey-Hole - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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It was a lovely sunny evening when the three children and Jiminy reached Gypsy Common. They all loved the common. It was glorious in the spring when the bluebells and the golden gorse were out, and the birds were singing madly in the bushes. It was lovely in the summer, when the ferns unfolded their curled-up fingers, and the grass was full of tiny bright flowers.

But oh, the joy of autumn-time, when the bushes were crowded with big, juicy blackberries! And sometimes, too, there were mushrooms growing here and there in the shady places, and great toadstools stood in the ditches. There was always something to find and take home to Mother.

“Blackberries, blackberries!” sang Betty, as they came to the common

“Blackberries, blackberries!” sang Betty, as they came to the common. “Dozens of blackberries, hundreds of blackberries, thou ...”

“Where are all these blackberries you’re singing about?” asked Jocko, stopping and looking round. “I can only see a few rather unripe ones on that bush over there.”

“Oh well, there’ll be plenty further on!” said Betty. “Where’s Jiminy? I hope he’s not gone after a rabbit. Call him, Jocko.”

“Jiminy!” yelled Jocko, and Jiminy at once appeared from behind a bush, with a piece of wood in his mouth. He ran straight to Jocko and dropped the wood at his feet. He wagged his tail hard and gave a little bark as if to say, “Well, come on now, throw it for me!”

Jocko groaned. “Oh goodness, don’t say you expect me to throw bits of wood for you all the time, Jiminy. I thought you had grown out of that. Take it away!”

Jiminy’s tail went down at once, and he looked mournfully round to see if anyone would throw his bit of wood for him.

“I’ll throw it for you, Jiminy,” said Betty and picked it up. She threw it—but alas, it went straight into a prickly bush, and Jiminy gave a mournful howl.

“Just like a girl!” said Jocko, in disgust. “I never yet saw a girl who could throw anything straight!”

Betty at once picked up a fallen fir-cone from the ground and hurled it straight at Jocko. It hit him on the nose and he yelled.

The others roared with laughter at Jocko’s surprise. “Good shot, Bets!” cried Bobby. Jocko couldn’t help grinning as he rubbed his nose. Jiminy ran to the fallen fir-cone and picked it up. He went to Betty and dropped it at her feet as if to say, “Do that again!”

“Oh no you don’t!” said Jocko, promptly, and kicked it away. “Come on, let’s look for blackberries. jiminy, stop picking up fir-cones. What about finding a bush with blackberries on instead.”

They went on into the bushes, looking for blackberries to put into their empty baskets. But oh dear, how few there were! It was most disappointing. There were hardly any, just one black one here and there.

“You can see where plenty have been picked,” said Betty, looking at a bush where there were many sturdy briar sprays. “See—here are the bare places where the blackberries grew. Someone has been here before us! We’d better go further on, where the common is wilder and thicker. We might find some then.”

But all they saw were children like themselves, trying to find a few blackberries to put into their baskets. “Are you looking for blackberries too?” they said. “There just aren’t any!”

“Who’s had them all, then?” asked Bobby, puzzled. “There were plenty ripening last time I came here.”

“See—there are gypsy caravans over there in that hollow, sheltered by those trees,” said Jocko, pointing. “Do you think the gypsy children have picked the blackberries?”

“Yes, look! There are people with baskets near the caravans!” said Betty. “Oh dear, we’ve come too late! All the best blackberries will have gone!”

Jocko went over to the caravans. They looked rather exciting. What fun to have a house on wheels, and go wherever you liked! A gypsy boy with a very brown face called to him.

“You after blackberries? You’re unlucky!”

“You after blackberries? You’re unlucky! I reckon we’ve picked them all since we’ve been here. What a huge crop there was! Look at what I picked this morning!”

Jocko looked. The boy’s basket was crammed to the top with big, juicy shining blackberries. They made his mouth water even to look at them!

“You might have left some for us,” he said.

“Well, it’s everyone for himself when the blackberries are ripe!” said the boy. “You should have come sooner. But I tell you what, you can have half ours!”

“Ooooh, thanks!” said Jocko, delighted.

“But only if you pay for them!” said the boy with a grin. “I’d get ten shillings for this lot I’ve picked. I go round the houses and sell them. You give me ten shillings and you can have them!”

“Don’t be silly! I haven’t ten shillings, and anyway we were going to sell what we picked,” said Jocko. “We want the blackberries for something special.”

“Ha—a blackberry tart with cream, I suppose!” said the boy. “Well, first come, first served. Good-day to you!”

And he disappeared into the door of the nearest caravan, swinging his full basket.

“We’ll have to go somewhere else and look for blackberries,” said Jocko, going back to the others. “There’s none left here. Come on, let’s go further on! We’ve just got to find some to sell, we’ve only picked about sixpennyworth so far. Come on, everyone!”