Читать книгу The Children of Cherry Tree Farm - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Early next morning the sun slipped into the children’s bedrooms and lay slanting across the walls. It was glorious to wake up in strange bedrooms, and to hear the hens clucking outside, and ducks quacking on the pond in the distance.

It didn’t take the children long to bath and dress. Then down they went as the breakfast bell rang, and took their places at the white-clothed table.

Uncle Tim had been up for two hours, and came to breakfast as hungry as a hunter. ‘Hallo, sleepyheads!’ he said. ‘I’ve been up and about for ages! A fine morning it is, too, though it was pitch-black when I slipped out of the farm door.’

‘Uncle, have you any calves?’ asked Penny.

‘Yes, two,’ said Uncle Tim. ‘You can see them after breakfast. And there are little lambs in the long meadow, and a foal in the field.’

The children hurried through their breakfast and then went out to see everything. Sheila loved the little long-legged foal that shied away from her timidly when she held out her hand to it.

Benjy loved the two calves. He put his hand into the mouth of the little white one and it sucked it gently and lovingly. The brown calf butted its head against him and looked at him with soft brown eyes.

Then Shadow, the collie dog, came running up to him and rubbed against his legs. All dogs loved Benjy, and all cats, too! As soon as Shadow had gone to answer Uncle Tim’s whistle, three cats slipped out of the dark corners of the barn and mewed to Benjy.

‘What a collection of cats!’ said Benjy in his soft voice, and he scratched their heads.

Sheila and Penny had gone to see the lambs. There were thirty-three of them in the long meadow with their mother sheep. How they frisked and jumped! How they wriggled their long tails and maa-ed in their tiny high voices.

‘Penny! Sheila!’ suddenly called their aunt’s voice. The two girls turned and saw Auntie Bess waving to them. ‘Will you do something for me?’

‘Yes, of course!’ shouted the girls, and they ran to see what it was that their aunt needed.

‘You will find three little lambs by themselves in that pen over there,’ said Auntie Bess. ‘They have no mother, so I feed them from a milk-bottle. Would you like to feed them for me?’

‘Oh yes!’ cried the children, and they took the feeding-bottles that Auntie Bess held out to them.

‘They are just like babies’ bottles,’ said Sheila. ‘Do they really suck from these?’

The girls gave the lambs their milk from bottles.

‘Yes,’ said Auntie Bess. ‘Come back to me for more milk when they have finished. They will need more than I have given you.’

Penny and Sheila climbed through the fence and three tiny lambs came frisking up. When they saw the milk-bottles they were most excited. The biggest lamb of all put his front feet up on to Penny and tried to get at the bottle at once.

‘Well, I’ll feed you first,’ said Penny. ‘Oh, Sheila, do feed that tiny one. He looks so hungry.’

But the tiny one didn’t get a chance at first, for his brother pushed him away, took the teat of the bottle firmly into his mouth and sucked away so hard that in a minute or two the bottle was quite empty! Then Sheila ran back for more milk and fed the tiny lamb. He was gentle and sweet, and Sheila had to keep pushing his big brother away. The girls gave the lambs two bottles each and then went to wash them out ready for the next meal.

‘I’d like to feed the lambs always, Auntie Bess,’ said Penny. ‘And the chicks too—and the ducklings. Oh, do look at those tiny ducks! Can I pick one up?’

‘So long as you don’t drop it and hurt it,’ said Auntie Bess, going indoors. Penny picked up a bright yellow duckling. It crept under her coat and huddled there. Penny wished she could keep it there all day and night. It felt so soft and warm.

That first day was a very happy one. It seemed so long, and so full of sunshine. The children made friends with all the animals except Bellow, the bull, who was kept in a strong fenced paddock.

‘He doesn’t like strangers,’ said Uncle Tim. ‘Wait till he is used to you before you go and sit on his fence and talk to him. If you like you can go with Taffy when he walks him every day.’

Taffy was one of the farm-men. He took the big bull for a short walk every day up the lane and down. Bellow had a ring through his nose, and Taffy had a hooked stick through this ring. He led the bull by this, and Bellow stepped proudly up the lane and down, his red eyes gleaming round at the watching children.

‘I’d like to lead the bull for you one day, Taffy!’ called Rory, dancing up.

‘I reckon it would be the bull that led you, Master Rory!’ said Taffy, with a grin. ‘Now don’t you go dancing round Bellow like that. He doesn’t like it.’

So Rory and the others went off to see the cows milked, and Bill and Ned, the two cowmen, let the children try their hands at milking.

Benjy was the best, for his hands were both strong and gentle. It was lovely to hear the creamy milk swishing into the pail. Penny was afraid of the cows at first, so she wouldn’t try.

‘You don’t need to be afraid of Blossom and Daisy and Clover,’ said Ned, patting the cows’ big sides.

Daisy looked round at Penny, and swished her tail gently. It hit the little girl and made her jump.

‘She smacked me with her tail,’ said Penny indignantly. Everybody laughed.

‘Well, you smack old Daisy with your hand and she’ll be pleased enough!’ grinned Ned, who was milking the big gentle cow.

When bedtime came at last the four children were more tired than they had been the day before. Penny could hardly undress herself and Sheila had to help her.

‘My legs won’t hold me up any more!’ said Penny, and she fell on to her little white bed.

The others stayed up a little while, talking to their aunt and uncle round the lamp that gave a soft yellow light over the table. It was peaceful in the parlour. Shadow, the collie, lay at Uncle Tim’s feet. A big white cat washed herself by the fire. Auntie Bess darned a stocking, and Uncle Tim listened to the children’s chatter.

‘Uncle, can we go for walks beyond the farm?’ asked Benjy. ‘When I know all the animals on the farm I’d like to go and find some wild ones in the hills and woods.’

‘Yes. You can go where you like,’ said Uncle Tim. ‘But if Penny goes, you must take care of her, because she might fall into the river or ponds, or get lost by herself.’

‘Oh yes, we’ll take care of Penny,’ promised Rory. ‘She can’t always come with us, though, Uncle—because her legs are not as strong as ours are, and she couldn’t walk as far as we do.’

It was a good thing that Penny was in bed for she would not have been at all pleased to hear that! Although her legs were not so long as those of her brothers and sister she felt sure that they were just as good at walking and running. Poor Penny—she was always wishing that she wasn’t so much smaller than the others! She didn’t at all like being the baby of the family.

‘Uncle, are there any badgers or otters about here?’ asked Benjy, looking up from the book he was reading.

‘There used to be badgers when I was a boy,’ said his uncle, lighting his old brown pipe and blowing out a cloud of blue smoke. ‘Those woods beyond the hill are called Brock Woods, you know, Benjy, and Brock is the old country name for badger.’

‘Perhaps there are still some there now,’ said Benjy, his eyes shining. ‘Is there anyone who could tell me, Uncle Tim?’

‘I should think old Tammylan, the wild man, would know,’ said Uncle, and the children looked up in surprise.

‘A wild man,’ said Sheila. ‘Are there wild men in this country then?’

‘No, not really,’ said Uncle Tim. ‘We call him the wild man because he doesn’t live in a house; he lives wild in the fields, and he looks queer—long hair and long beard, and funny clothes, you know. But people say that what he doesn’t know about the animals and birds around here isn’t worth knowing.’

‘I wish I knew him,’ said Benjy longingly. ‘What did you say his name was, Uncle?’

‘Tammylan, he’s called,’ said Uncle Tim, blowing out another cloud of smoke. ‘But don’t you go hunting him out now, or you’ll get into trouble. Last year he caught two boys and threw them into the river, and the year before that he caught young Dick Thomas and shook him so hard that his head nearly fell off.’

‘Why did he do that?’ asked Rory in surprise.

‘We never really knew,’ said Auntie Bess, joining in the talk. ‘But we did know that the three boys were real rascals and deserved all they got! Still, it would be better if you didn’t go hunting out old Tammylan, my dears. I wouldn’t like you to be thrown into the river—especially if you can’t swim!’

Well, of course, all three of the listening children at once made up their minds that they would go and hunt out the queer wild man of the hills as soon as they possibly could. They wouldn’t go too near him—oh no! They would just watch out for him, see where he lived, and what he did. That would be fun. But they wouldn’t let themselves be caught.

‘We’ll go hunting for old Tammylan next week,’ said Rory to Benjy, as they went upstairs to bed that night. ‘We’ll find out from Taffy or Bill or Ned where he lives—and we’ll go and see what he’s like. Fancy—a real wild man!’