Читать книгу The Put-Em-Rights - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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It was the beginning of the summer holidays; but Sally Wilson did not feel as pleased as all the other children of Under-Ridge Village. She put down her schoolbag, went to the window of her little bedroom, and looked out.

Sally loved school. She loved the daily company of the other girls, she enjoyed the bustle and excitement of school, she liked being top of her form, and captain of the tennis team. She liked running the Nature Walks and the Debating Society. At school she was Somebody. At home in Under-Ridge Village, she was nobody. Her mother was the head of the little village school, and she and Sally lived in the school house together. Her mother was a busy woman, keen on the little school, and, like Sally, always running this, that and the other.

Sally leaned her chin on her hand and looked over the fields to where a big grey house stood. It was the Rectory.

‘I wonder if Micky and Amanda are home,’ she thought. ‘I might walk over there today and see.’

Micky and Amanda were the children of the rector and his wife. Sally knew them quite well, for they went to the same church and attended the same Sunday classes. She liked Micky, with his dark wavy hair and deep blue eyes. She liked Amanda too. She had often been to tea with them.

‘I wish we could make life in Under-Ridge a bit more exciting in the holidays,’ thought Sally. ‘It always seems so dull after school life. There doesn’t seem anything to run, anything to organize, anything to get interested in. It’s no good helping Mother in all the things she does. She does them very well by herself, and she doesn’t want me butting in.’

This was quite true. Sally’s mother loved running her different societies and guilds and institutes, but she liked running them by herself. She and Sally were very much alike—quick-brained, efficient, rather impatient people, who liked being the head of things.

‘Sally,’ her mother called up the stairs. ‘Whatever are you doing, mooning up there? Come along down and show me your report.’

‘I’m not mooning,’ called back Sally, impatiently, ‘you know I never moon. I’m coming.’

She ran downstairs, looking a little sulky. She gave her mother her school report. Mrs Wilson slit it open and read it.

It was, as usual, excellent, but a remark at the end annoyed Sally.

‘Sally has run her class with her usual efficiency and smoothness,’ ran the report, ‘but she must not think that organizing is everything. Kindness and friendliness help the wheels to go round, and there is a danger that Sally may forget this in her zeal for perfection.’

‘What a silly thing to say!’ said Sally, indignantly. ‘What does the Head mean by that? I’m always kind and friendly to everyone.’

‘Well, I suppose you put the class before the girls,’ said her mother. ‘I mean—you wanted your class to be so efficient that you perhaps forgot that all the girls might not want to be just what you chose them to be.’

‘It’s mean of the Head to put in a remark like that,’ said Sally, resentfully. She did not like to be found fault with, for she had a very good opinion of herself.

‘There’s a meeting on the village green tomorrow night,’ said Mrs Wilson, changing the subject, and slipping the report back into its envelope. ‘There’s a speaker coming to talk to children. It’s the Tramping Preacher.’

‘Oh, I’ve heard of him,’ said Sally, interested. ‘He goes all over the country talking to children, doesn’t he, Mother? He doesn’t bother about grown-ups, but he just goes to the children.’

‘Yes, and I hear that he is starting all kinds of little societies up and down the country,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘Run by children, of course. Maybe you could start one here, Sally, and run it. It would be something for you to do in the holidays.’

‘I’ll walk across to the Rectory and see if Micky and Amanda are going,’ said Sally, ‘I expect they are. Maybe the Tramping Preacher will be having a meal with them, and they can talk to him properly. I wish I could too.’

She left the house and set off down the lane, over a stile, and across the cornfields that led to the Rectory. The corn was green and high, and made a whispering sound as Sally walked beside it. But she did not hear it, nor did she see the bright flash of the scarlet poppies in the corn. She was busy wondering whether she could start some sort of society that summer.

As soon as she came in sight of the Rectory she knew that Micky and Amanda were there, for she heard cheerful voices and laughter. It sounded as if there were more than two people: Micky and Amanda must have visitors. Sally was not at all shy. She did not mind walking in, even if Micky had friends there. ‘Hello!’ she called, as she came out on to the lawn and saw four children there. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages, Micky.’

Micky was a sturdy, good-looking boy of about twelve. Amanda, his sister, was eleven, and as big as he was, very pretty, with charming ways. She was not very fond of Sally, and often called her ‘bossy’ to herself.

The two other children turned and stared at Sally. One was a big boy of about thirteen, with a merry smile, his hair rumpled over his brown forehead, and his blue shirt open to show an equally brown neck. He was well dressed but untidy. By him was a much smaller girl of about ten, looking shy. She had a sweet face, a beautiful dress and large, rather scared-looking eyes. ‘Like a rabbit about to run,’ thought Sally, as she went over the grass.

‘Hello, Sally!’ said Micky and Amanda. ‘Can you stay and play? These are two friends of ours, Podge and Yolande. They’re cousins, and they live at Four Towers. Podge’s father has just bought it.’

Four Towers was the biggest house in Under-Ridge. It had a very large garden, which was kept by four gardeners, and a great number of glass-houses. Sally looked with respect at Podge. How rich his father must be!

‘I wondered who had bought Four Towers,’ said Sally, ‘because I saw workmen there some time ago. When did you move in?’

‘Yesterday,’ said Podge. ‘And Micky’s mother, who is a great friend of my own mother, invited us here for meals till we were settled in. What’s your name?’

‘Sally Wilson,’ said Sally. ‘Yours isn’t really Podge, is it?’

‘No. It’s Claude Paget, and my cousin is Yolande Paget,’ answered Podge. ‘But Claude is such an awful name, so everyone calls me Podge, because I’m a bit fat.’ He grinned lazily and Sally laughed.

She turned to Micky and Amanda. ‘I really came over to see if you were going to the meeting on the village green tomorrow night,’ she asked. ‘I hear the Tramping Preacher is coming.’

‘Yes,’ said Micky. ‘He’s coming to tea with us before the meeting, and coming back to supper afterwards. Like to come to tea and supper too, Sally? You’ll like the Preacher: he’s fine. I’ve heard him before. I warn you—he’ll stir you up properly, and make you do all kinds of things you never thought of doing before!’

Sally laughed scornfully. ‘I’m not as easily stirred as all that,’ she said. ‘All the same, I’d like to hear him. Yes, I’d love to come to tea and supper. Are Podge and Yolande coming too?’

‘They’ve got to go to the meeting with us,’ said Micky, ‘so they will be here for meals too. We can all go together. The village children will be going too, I expect. I bet your mother has rounded them all up and commanded them to go!’

Sally smiled. The village children were very much in awe of Sally’s mother, their head teacher. If she said they were to go here, there or anywhere, they went. It never once occurred to Mrs Wilson that anyone would disobey her.

‘Let’s have a game,’ said Podge. ‘What about tennis? Can you play, Sally?’

‘Yes, but my racket is at home,’ said Sally.

‘You can have mine,’ said Yolande, terrified of playing with the bigger children. She handed it to Sally, who was pleased at being able to have a good game. She was easily the best. She was even better than Podge, who could have been very good if he had tried. Amanda too had the makings of a very good player, but she was too lazy to run for short balls. Micky yelled at her impatiently but nothing would hurry Amanda.

‘You always play for yourself, not for your partner,’ complained Micky, when Podge and Sally had beaten them well. ‘You simply won’t bother yourself to rush for a ball: you made me do all the running. You’re lazy.’

‘I know,’ said Amanda, with a smile that showed a dimple, ‘but I like to be lazy. It’s nice to see other people rushing about all the time—but I’m not made that way. I don’t like being on the go all the time like Sally, and I don’t want to run this, that, and the other. I prefer to leave things to you others.’

They had to laugh at Amanda. She lay on her back on the grass. Grinning up at them, her shining golden hair round her face. ‘Lazy little thing,’ said Podge, digging her with his foot. ‘Get up and have a race with me.’

‘Good gracious, no! You race with Sally. She’s always ready for anything and never gets tired. Do you, Sally?’

‘No,’ said Sally, who privately thought that tired people were lazy people. She could not understand anyone who loved doing nothing as much as Amanda did. She thought Amanda ought to help her mother more, because there was only one daily help in the big Rectory and a great deal to do. But Amanda’s sweet-natured, hard-working mother did not nag at Amanda to help her, much as she would have liked her daughter to do so.

‘I must get back,’ Sally said, looking at her watch. ‘I’ll be along to tea tomorrow—and thanks awfully. I do hope we find plenty to do these holidays. It’s so dull when there’s nothing going on.’

‘Oh dear!’ said Amanda, watching Sally walking fast over the lawn. ‘I think that’s the beauty of holidays—having nothing to do! I’m glad I don’t live with Sally. I should find her very tiring!’