Читать книгу The Put-Em-Rights - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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The six Put-Em-Rights wore their badges, all of them but Podge feeling rather proud of them. Podge didn’t like labels or badges of any kind, and privately thought himself too big to wear a silly little button made by Yolande. But he was a kind-hearted boy, and did not like to hurt his little cousin by not wearing it. The six of them walked about with their buttons, and they did not tell anyone what the letters P.E.R. meant. ‘If we go about telling everyone, we shall find it difficult to put things right when we have to,’ Sally said. ‘People may not like to think that the Put-Em-Rights are dealing with them.’

For a few days it seemed as if nothing was wrong in the village. Podge wondered if he should have a few words with Philpot, the village policeman, and try to find out from him if there were any poachers, burglars or people like that to deal with. But on the whole he thought Philpot would probably deal with that kind of people better than he could.

Then the first wrong turned up. It was Sally who saw it and reported it. She was going along by the river when she heard a dog yelping piteously, and her heart jumped for it was a very loud and terrified yelp.

The noise came from a cottage garden. The cottage belonged to a surly fellow called Fellin, who went out doing odd jobs as a gardener. Sally, pricking her ears up as she remembered she was one of the Put-Em-Rights, walked cautiously to the fence that ran at the end of the cottage garden.

She saw Fellin hitting a dog unmercifully. He had a big stick in his hand and he held the dog by its collar. He thrashed it with all his might, and the dog almost strangled itself, trying to get away. Sally trembled. She was just about to call out when the man threw down the stick, sent the dog rolling over and over, and disappeared indoors.

A woman in the next cottage saw Sally at the end of the two gardens, and she called to her. ‘Brute, isn’t he? He hits that dog every day of his life. He ought to be reported, so he ought, the brute! He’ll kill it one day!’

The dog crawled into the house after the man. It was a poor, mangy, thin creature, not at all beautiful. Its tail was too long, and its ears were bitten. Sally waited till it had gone, and then, as there were no more sounds of yelping, she hurried to the Rectory.

Micky, Amanda, Podge and Yolande were all there. Bobby Jones was the only member of the band who was absent. The others saw Sally’s hot, excited face, and called to her. ‘What’s up? Anything happened?’

‘I want to call a meeting of the Put-Em-Rights,’ said Sally at once. ‘We’ll have to get Bobby too.’

‘I’ll go for him,’ said Yolande, and she ran down the garden and into the lane where Bobby lived.

‘Bobby!’ she called, seeing him in the little garden there. ‘Bobby! We’re calling a meeting. You’ve got to come.’

Bobby felt proud. He spoke to the boy with him. ‘I’ll have to go to the Rectory. The others want me—you know, the band I belong to. You’d better go home and not wait for me.’

The boy nodded and watched Bobby go off with Yolande. Bobby wanted to know what the meeting was about, but Yolande didn’t know.

‘It’s something Sally saw,’ she said. ‘She was all red and upset.’

Soon the six of them were sitting on the little lawn well away from the house, where they could talk without interruption.

‘Come on, Sally—what’s the matter?’ said Podge, rather impatient at all the ceremony.

‘Well,’ Sally explained, ‘I’ve seen a horrid wrong this morning, really horrid.’ She told them of the poor miserable dog, half-starved, and beaten so cruelly.

‘And the woman in the cottage next to Fellin’s said he does that every day of his life!’ finished Sally, indignantly. ‘Don’t you think that somehow we ought to put this right?’

Everyone agreed at once. They were all fond of animals, and Micky and Amanda had been heartbroken when Bundle, their old spaniel, had died that year. Something must certainly be done for the wretched little dog belonging to Fellin.

‘Yes, this is the first thing we must tackle,’ said Micky. ‘Cruelty is terrible. Fellin must be a very wicked man. I’d no idea he was like that. He doesn’t look too bad. He comes to help in the garden sometimes, and though he never has much to say, I never thought he was so cruel. We must make inquiries about him and see what we can do for the dog.’

‘How shall we decide whose job this is?’ asked Podge. ‘You know we said we must take it in turns to tackle things that turned up. We can’t all plunge into it.’

‘No. Too many cooks spoil the broth,’ said Bobby agreeing, but hoping heartily that he would not have to put this wrong right. He was afraid of the sour-looking Fellin.

‘We’ll have to draw for it,’ said Sally efficiently. ‘I’ll tear out a page from my notebook, cut it into six strips, write down our names, and put them into a hat. Then one of us can draw out a name, and whosever name it is must do the job.’

‘But if it was my name, I couldn’t possibly!’ Yolande said, looking really scared.

‘You joined this band and you’ve got to do your bit,’ said Sally. ‘You can pray harder than ever if it’s you, and I expect you’d think of some way to do it.’

This was not very comforting, but Yolande did not like to say any more. ‘Please, God, don’t let it be me!’ she said secretly over and over again as she watched Sally cutting up six strips of paper.

The names were written on them. Nobody had a hat so Amanda fetched a garden pot. The strips were put into it and well shaken.

‘Yolande, you’re the youngest. You can draw,’ said Sally. ‘Shut your eyes.’

With a trembling hand and still muttering her fervent prayer, Yolande felt about among the strips. Which was her own? If only she knew, then she wouldn’t draw it! But that would be cheating. So it was just as well she didn’t know, or, dreadful thought, she might have cheated! The little girl pulled out a strip, and then did not dare to open her eyes and look at it.

‘Whose name is it, silly?’ said Sally impatiently, half hoping it was her own, for she was feeling very efficient and thorough at that moment. She snatched the paper from Yolande and read the name.

‘Micky! It’s you. You’re the first Put-Em-Right to tackle anything.’

‘Oh,’ said Micky, rather taken aback. ‘Gosh! What do I do?’

The Put-Em-Rights settled down to a discussion. Yolande felt so relieved that the name was not hers that she had just as much to say as the others.

‘It’s no good giving the man a talking-to, I’m sure,’ said Sally, much as she believed in ‘talkings-to’ and ‘dressings-down’. ‘You’ll have to go about it some other way, Micky.’

‘Yes, perhaps you could make the man think that the dog was a fine fellow, a very nice dog, who would be grateful for kindness, or something like that,’ said Yolande.

Podge looked at her. ‘I rather think that’s the best line to go on,’ he agreed. ‘Quite a good idea, Yo.’ Yo went red with pleasure.

‘It would be better than reporting the man to the R.S.P.C.A.,’ said Sally. ‘We can always tell the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals people, if we can’t make the man see reason. But all that that would do would be to rescue the dog, without helping the man.’

‘Yes: if we could make the man kind, as well as making the dog happy, that would be a really worthwhile thing to do,’ said Amanda. ‘We’d be helping both. Daddy always says that anyone who is cruel is to be pitied.’

Micky scratched his head and frowned. ‘Well, I don’t feel as if I pity Fellin nearly as much as I pity his dog. And it’s going to be jolly difficult to change old Fellin, let me tell you. He hasn’t got that mean, sour look on his face for nothing!’

‘It’s good to have something difficult to tackle,’ Sally said brightly.

‘You sound jolly priggish,’ said Micky. ‘You wait till your turn comes! All right, all right. I’m not grumbling because I’ve got to do something first. I said I’d belong to the band and I’m proud to—but I don’t want to make a mess of this. Exactly how do you propose I should tackle Fellin?’

‘Well, he comes to work in your garden, doesn’t he?’ said Podge. ‘Can’t you get into conversation with him—and ask him about his dog—and tell him what a nice creature it is—and get in a bit about kindness to animals, and how nice it is to have dogs loving you, and all that?’

‘I’ll try,’ said Micky, who didn’t somehow feel that these words would work wonders with Fellin. ‘Amanda, you must help me.’

‘I’ll come and hear what you say,’ said Amanda. ‘But you’re jolly well not going to make me do the talking, Micky.’

‘You wouldn’t, even if I begged you to, lazy!’ said Micky. ‘I hope you get something most awfully difficult to do when your turn comes. You always wriggle out of everything if you can!’

‘Now don’t squabble, you two,’ said Sally.

‘All right, teacher,’ said Amanda. Sally flushed. She hated being teased, and she didn’t like being called ‘Teacher’. That was what all the village children called her mother.

‘Fellin comes tomorrow, I think,’ said Micky. ‘I’ll tackle him then.’

‘I’ll say a very big prayer for you, Micky,’ said Yolande, ‘so that things will go fine, and you’ll be able to change Fellin, and make sure the dog will not be miserable any more.’

‘Good old Yo,’ said Micky. ‘I know jolly well I can’t do things all by myself. I’ll do what I can tomorrow, but I may have to work on Fellin for a week or two before he comes round to our point of view. So don’t expect me to do this all in a hurry. It’s no good rushing things.’

‘Right,’ said Podge. ‘And go on keeping your eyes open, everyone. Bobby, you talk to your mother, and you talk to yours, Sally, and you to yours, Amanda. They know everyone in the village and all that goes on, so you may hear something that the Put-Em-Rights can tackle. We don’t want these hols to slip by without doing anything much.’

‘There’s probably quite a lot under our very noses that we could help in,’ said Amanda. ‘Well, anyway, good luck to our first Put-Em-Righter!’

‘Good luck, Micky!’ said everyone, and then the meeting broke up.