Читать книгу The Land of Far-Beyond - Enid blyton - Страница 8

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A tall old man opened the door. He was a peasant, and had a ruddy, friendly face. He seemed surprised to see such a company.

“Old fellow, can you give us shelter for the night?” asked Mr. Scornful, pushing his way forward. “A barn will do for the children. We want food too.”

“I can give you bread and milk,” said the peasant. “And a little cheese between you. There is room in the kitchen for the children—and you grown-ups must do with the old barn.”

“I can pay well,” said Mr. Scornful, going into the cottage and looking round. “I want something better than bread, milk, and cheese. And as for sleeping on a barn floor, that’s a thing I’d never do. All very well for poor folk—but I’m the rich Mr. Scornful. I must have the best.”

“My name is Kindly,” said the old peasant, his bright blue eyes shining in the evening sunlight. “I have nothing to offer you but simple food. And I say again that these tired children must have my kitchen. The barn must do for you others.”

“I’m quite willing,” said Miss Simple. “I don’t mind anything so long as I’m happy. I’ll help you to get the meal, Mr. Kindly.”

But Mr. Scornful was hungry, and he looked sneeringly at the brown loaf, creamy milk, and yellow cheese which was all that Kindly had to offer. He went outside and looked at the barn.

He came back to the cottage and called to the peasant, who was getting some bedding from the loft, to put down in the kitchen for the tired children.

“Hie! Isn’t there anywhere else near here where we can get better food? And more comfortable shelter?”

“Well, Mr. Wealthy lives in that big house on the hillside there,” said Kindly. “He has plenty of rich food, and silk sheets on all his beds. Pink sheets for the pink room, blue for the blue room—oh, marvellous! But he’s rather mean, so he might not welcome you. And you’d have to be careful not to go near his watch-dogs.”

“Well, I’m going along there,” said Mr. Scornful at once. “I may know him. I’m pretty rich myself. Sarah Simple, you’d better come with me—and you, too, Dick and Gracie. The children will be all right here.”

But the others were too tired to move. The children sat eating the bread and milk, and looked longingly at the bedding that the peasant was spreading on the floor for them. Mr. Scornful smiled his jeering smile and stepped out of the door.

“Well, I’m off to a good meal and a comfortable bed!” he said. “See you in the morning. Good-bye!”

The children curled themselves up on the bedding spread on the floor, and in a moment or two were sound asleep. Kindly took the three grown-ups to his barn, and showed them where they could lie in the soft hay. It smelt sweet and good. The old peasant lay down with them, for he had given the five children all his bedding. It was not long before they were all sound asleep.

In the morning the sun streamed into the kitchen and the barn. The children and the grown-ups ate porridge cooked by Kindly. Miss Simple helped him, chattering all the time.

“You know, we’re on our way to the Land of Far-Beyond, to get rid of these dreadful burdens. We’ve got to climb up that hill. I hope it won’t be very difficult.”

“You will get a sight of the Land of Far-Beyond at the top,” said Kindly. “The Guide lives there, in his small house. He will help you, and tell you the way to go. When will you set out? You must not start late, or you will not get up to the top before nightfall. I will give you food for the way.”

“We must wait for Mr. Scornful,” said Miss Simple. “I expect he has overslept this morning! No doubt he had a big supper, and a soft bed last night—and did not wake with the sun as we did.”

“Look—who’s this coming?” said Peter, suddenly. He had caught sight of a strange figure coming slowly up to the cottage. It was a man. His hair was wild, his eyes were bloodshot, his hands were bleeding. His clothes were torn and ragged. But on his back was the same kind of burden as the others carried.

Kindly looked hard at the man coming slowly along. “Why, it’s the man who didn’t want to stay here last night!” he said, in surprise. “What can have happened to him?”

“It’s Mr. Scornful!” cried Peter. “Goodness me—how awful he looks! Mr. Scornful, whatever has happened to you? We’ve been imagining you having rich food and sleeping between silk sheets!”

“I haven’t had a bite of food or a wink of sleep,” said Mr. Scornful, wearily. “First of all I lost my way. Then I fell into a tangle of thorns. At last I came to Mr. Wealthy’s house, and because I looked dirty, and my clothes were torn by the thorns, and because I carried this load on my back, his servants would not let me in.”

“Well, what did you do then?” asked Anna.

“I shouted at the top of my voice,” said Mr. Scornful. “I hoped that Mr. Wealthy might hear me and come to see what the matter was. Then I thought he would know me, and let me in. But the servants beat me and set two dogs on me. I tried to find my way back here, but it was dark. When the sun rose I saw the cottage in the distance—and here I am.”

“FIRST OF ALL I LOST MY WAY. THEN I FELL INTO A TANGLE OF THORNS”

“Well, you scorned my poor food and my shelter last night,” said Kindly, in his pleasant voice. “But you are welcome to it still. Better to have simple fare in a kindly house, than seek for better things in a place where there is no welcome. Come in and rest awhile.”

Poor Mr. Scornful was only too glad to come in and eat the food he had scorned the night before. Then he lay down on some hay in the barn and fell fast asleep.

“He does not really need silk sheets!” laughed Miss Simple. “Now what are we to do? He may sleep for hours! We can’t wait for him.”

“Better start off,” said Kindly. “I’ll tell him the way you’ve gone. Now listen to me carefully, or you may get into difficulties.”

Every one stood round, listening to the blue-eyed peasant. “Take that path,” he said, pointing with his staff. “It is steep, but it will bring you to the Guide’s hut before nightfall. Do not take any easier way, for if you do, you may get lost, and it is not pleasant to be out on the hillside in the dark.”

“Shall we meet any one?” asked Peter. “Does any one else live on the hill?”

“Yes. Dally lives there, in a pleasant cottage,” said Kindly. “Take no notice of her. She is an old gossip, and will keep you listening to her until she makes you late. And some one else may try to keep you, too. It is the old man, Mr. Doubt, who worries many travellers in this life. Take no notice of either of them.”

“All right,” said Peter. “We’ll go now. I’m impatient to get on! I hope Mr. Scornful won’t be long. He’s a funny sort of fellow, always turning up his nose at everything, and thinking we’re all stupid—but still, he’s a sort of leader, and we shall miss him.”

The little company set off again. The shepherd showed them how to cut sticks from the hazel hedge, and these were a great help to every one as they began to climb the steep path that led up the hill. The sun shone down hotly again, and every one panted, for their burdens seemed twice as heavy going uphill.

“How I wish we could rest a bit!” sighed Gracie Grumble.

“This is a much worse journey than I expected. I wouldn’t have set out if I’d known what I was going to go through.”

“Well, nothing very dreadful has happened,” said Patience.

“But think what might have happened!” said Dick Cowardly, shuddering. “We might have fallen in the River Trouble! We might never have found Kindly’s cottage, and have had to spend the night as Mr. Scornful did. We might ...”

“Be quiet!” said Miss Simple. “You make me feel afraid. Oh, isn’t this sun hot? I do wish we could rest.”

“There’s a nice little cottage over there,” said Anna. “I wonder if we could get a drink of water there.”

“We’ll go and see,” said Peter, and he set off towards it. An old dame with a rather silly little face opened her door to him.

“Of course you can have a drink!” she said. “I’ll get a jug of water for you—ice-cold from the spring! Come and rest for a while in my little garden and tell me all your news. You shall see my three new kittens—and I’ve a dear little kid you’ll love to play with.”

“Well, we can’t stop,” said Peter. “But we would like a drink.”

So the old dame gave them all cups of cold water and chattered to them as they sat drinking. It was pleasant in the little garden. A cool breeze blew, and the view was lovely.

“Let’s stay a while,” said Gracie Grumble. “I’m so tired.”

“We mustn’t be too long,” said Patience, stretching herself out on the grass.

“Oh, stay as long as you like,” said the old woman, and she began to tell them all sorts of things, and to beg them to tell her their news.

Miss Simple poured out the tale of their adventures. Anna fell asleep. Dick Cowardly wandered round the garden, picking raspberries. It was all very pleasant.

“I really think we’d better go,” said Peter, suddenly. “The sun is disappearing down the other side of the hill already. Good-bye, old woman. What is your name?”

“Mrs. Dally,” said the old dame. Peter stared in dismay.

“We were warned against her!” he said in a low voice to the others. “Hurry! She has taken up our time and made us laze away half the day. We’ll never be at the Guide’s before nightfall if we don’t hurry.”

“Oh, let’s stay and have a cup of tea,” begged Gracie Grumble. “Mrs. Dally would love us to, I’m sure.”

But although Mrs. Dally begged them all to have tea with her, Peter would not hear of it. He hurried the children up the hill-path, leaving the others to follow.

“There’s no sign of Mr. Scornful yet,” he said, looking down the hill. “I hope he catches us up soon. We have wasted plenty of time at Mrs. Dally’s, so maybe he’ll soon be with us.”

The path was very steep just there. Gracie Grumble panted and groaned, and when they came to where the way forked, and the two paths went either side of the hill, one much easier than the other, Gracie wanted to go the less steep way.

“Well, do what you please,” said Dick Cowardly. “I’ll go with you, if you like.”

So the two parted company with the others, and planned to meet them at the cottage of the Guide at the top of the hill. The other six toiled on up the hill.

It was terribly steep. Stones rolled down beneath their feet. Anna slipped and fell and had to be hauled up again by Peter. Her knees were bleeding.

Then Patience got her hands scratched by a bush, and began to cry. “I don’t like this hill,” she wept. “I want to go back home!”

“Cheer up,” said Peter. “Look—there’s somebody’s house just here. We’ll go in and bathe your hands and Anna’s knees. Come along!”

So along to the cottage they went. Mr. Doubt lived there, and he opened the door to them at once.

“Dear, dear!” he said, when he saw the hurt children. “Have you been trying to climb this awful hill? Now whatever did you do that for? It isn’t worth it! The view at the top is nearly always hidden in mist. Come along in.”

The five children and Sarah Simple went into the cottage. Mr. Doubt, who was a shifty-looking fellow with curious eyes, got some warm water to bathe Anna’s knees and Patience’s hands.

“Aren’t his eyes funny!” whispered Anna. “One is blue and the other is brown.”

“How glad I am we saw this place,” said Miss Simple, sitting down in a chair with a sigh. “I’m very tired, and glad of a rest. Thank goodness we came here!”

But it wasn’t a good thing at all, as it turned out!