"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 12 - Five Go Down to The Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

‘Sure to,’ said Julian. ‘She’s a pet. I’ve never felt so welcome in my life. Are we ready? Come on down, then. I’m beginning to feel very empty indeed.’
The high tea that awaited them was truly magnificent. A huge ham gleaming as pink as Timmy’s tongue; a salad fit for a king. In fact, as Dick said, fit for several kings, it was so enormous. It had in it everything that anyone could possibly want.
‘Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, radishes, mustard and cress, carrot grated up - that is carrot, isn’t it, Mrs Penruthlan?’ said Dick. ‘And lashings of hard-boiled eggs.’
There was an enormous tureen of new potatoes, all gleaming with melted butter, scattered with parsley. There was a big bottle of home-made salad cream.
‘Look at that cream cheese, too,’ marvelled Dick, quite overcome. ‘And that fruit cake. And are those drop-scones, or what? Are we supposed to have something of everything, Mrs Penruthlan?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the plump little woman, smiling at Dick’s pleasure. ‘And there’s a cherry tart made with our own cherries, and our own cream with it. I know what hungry children are. I’ve had seven of my own, all married and gone away. So I have to make do with other people’s when I can get them.’
‘I’m jolly glad you happened to get hold of us,’ said Dick, beginning on ham and salad. ‘Well, we’ll keep you busy, Mrs Penruthlan. We’ve all got big appetites!’
‘Ah, I’ve not met any children yet that could eat like mine,’ said Mrs Penruthlan, sounding really sorry. ‘Same as I’ve not met any man that can eat like Mr Penruthlan. He’s a fine eater, he is. He’ll be in soon.’
‘I hope we shall leave enough for him,’ said Anne, looking at the ham and the half-empty salad dish. ‘No wonder my uncle’s friend, the man who came to stay here, went away as fat as butter, Mrs Penruthlan.’
‘Oh, the poor man!’ said their hostess, who was now filling up their glasses with rich, creamy milk. ‘Thin as my husband’s old rake, he was, and all his bones showing and creaking. He said “No” to this and “No” to that, but I took no notice of him at all. If he didn’t eat his dinner, I’d take his tray away and tidy it up, and then in ten minutes I’d take it back again and say: “Dinner-time, sir, and I hope you’re hungry!” And he’d start all over again, and maybe that time he’d really tuck in!’
‘But didn’t he know you’d already taken him his dinner-tray once?’ said Julian, astonished. ‘Goodness, he must have been a dreamer.’
‘I took his tray in three times once,’ said Mrs Penruthlan. ‘So you be careful in case I do the same kind of thing to you!’
‘I should love it!’ grinned Julian. ‘Yes, please, I’d like some more ham. And more salad.’
Footsteps came outside the room, on the stone floor of the hall. The door opened and the farmer himself came in. The children stared at him in awe.
He was a strange and magnificent figure of a man - tall, well over six feet, broadly built, and as dark as a sunburnt Spaniard. His mane of hair was black and curly, and his eyes were as black as his hair.
‘This is Mr Penruthlan,’ said his wife, and the children stood up to shake hands, feeling half afraid of this dark giant.
He nodded his head and shook hands. His hand was enormous, and was covered with hairs so thick and black that it was like fur. Anne felt that it would be quite nice and soft to stroke, like a cat’s back!’
He didn’t say a word, but sat down and let his wife serve him. ‘Well, Mr Penruthlan,’ she said, ‘and how’s the cow getting along?’
‘Ah,’ said the farmer, taking a plate of ham. The children gazed at the slices in awe, seven or eight of them. Goodness!
‘Oh, I’m glad she’s all right,’ said Mrs Penruthlan, stacking up some dirty plates. ‘And is the calf a dear little thing - and what’s the colour?’
‘Ah,’ said Mr Penruthlan, nodding his head.
‘Red and white, like its mother! That’s good, isn’t it?’ said his wife, who seemed to have a miraculous way of interpreting his ‘Ahs’. ‘What shall we call it?’
Everyone badly wanted to say ‘Ah’, but nobody dared. However, Mr Penruthlan didn’t say ‘Ah’ that time, but something that sounded like ‘Ock’.
‘Yes, we’ll call it Buttercup, then,’ said his wife, nodding her head. ‘You always have such good ideas, Mr Penruthlan.’
It sounded odd to hear her call her husband by his surname like that, and yet, somehow, the children couldn’t imagine this giant of a fellow even owning a name like Jack or Jim. They went on with their own meal, enjoying every minute of it, watching Mr Penruthlan shovel in great mouthfuls, and working his way quickly through every dish. Mrs Penruthlan saw them watching him.
‘He’s a grand eater, isn’t he?’ she said, proudly. ‘So were all my children. When they were at home, I was kept really busy, but now, with only Mr Penruthlan to feed, I feel quite lost. That’s why I like people here. You’ll tell me if you don’t have enough to eat, won’t you?’
They all laughed, and Timmy barked. He had had a wonderful meal, too, it was the remains of Mrs Penruthlan’s big stock-pot, and was very tasty indeed. He had also got the largest bone he had ever had in his life. The only thing that really worried the well-fed Timmy now was, where could he put the bone out of the way of the farm dogs?
Mr Penruthlan suddenly made a peculiar noise and began undoing a trouser pocket at the back. ‘Oo-ah!’ he said, and brought out a dirty, folded piece of paper. He handed it to his wife, who unfolded it and read it. She looked up at the children, smiling.
‘Now, here’s a bit of excitement!’ she said. ‘The Barnies will be along this week! You’ll love them.’
‘What are the Barnies?’ asked George, puzzled at Mrs Penruthlan’s evident pleasure and excitement.
‘Oh, they’re travelling players that wander round the countryside and play and act in our big barns,’ said Mrs Penruthlan. ‘We’ve no cinemas for miles, you know, so the Barnies are always very welcome.’
‘Oh, you call them Barnies because they use your barns for their shows,’ said Anne, seeing light. ‘Yes, we shall love to see them, Mrs Penruthlan. Will they play in your barn?’
‘Yes. We’ll have all the village here when the Barnies come,’ said Mrs Penruthlan, her cheeks going red with delight. ‘And maybe people from Trelin Village, too. Now, there’s a treat for you!’
‘Ah,’ said Mr Penruthlan, and nodded his great head. Evidently he liked the Barnies, too. He gave a sudden laugh and said something short and quite incomprehensible.
‘He says you’ll like Clopper the horse,’ said his wife, laughing. ‘The things he does! The way he sits down and crosses his legs. Well, you wait and see. That horse!’
This sounded rather astonishing. A horse that sat down and crossed its legs? Julian winked at Dick. They would most certainly see the Barnies!

Chapter Three

THE FIRST EVENING

After their wonderful high tea the four children didn’t really feel like doing very much. Dick thought he ought to mend his puncture, but wasn’t sure that he could bend over properly!
Mrs Penruthlan began to stack the dishes and clear away. George and Anne offered to help her. ‘Well, that’s kind of you, Anne and Georgina,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘But you’re tired tonight. You can give me a hand some other time. By the way, which of you is which?’
‘I’m Anne,’ said Anne.
‘And I’m George, not Georgina,’ said George. ‘So please don’t call me that. I hate it. I always wanted to be a boy, so I only like to be called George.’
‘What she really means is that she won’t answer unless you do call her George,’ said Anne. ‘Well, if you really are sure you don’t need our help, we’ll go out with the boys.’
So out they went, George really looking far more like a boy than a girl, with her grey shorts and shirt and her short, curly hair and freckled face. She put her hands in her pockets and tried to walk like Dick!
Dick soon found his puncture and mended it. Mr Penruthlan came by with some straw for his cow and new calf. The boys watched him in awe, for he was carrying almost a wagon load of straw tied up in bales! What strength he had! He nodded to them and passed without a word.
‘Why doesn’t he talk?’ wondered Dick. ‘I suppose all his seven children take after their talkative mother, and he never had a chance to get a word in. And it’s too late now, he’s forgotten how to!’
They laughed. ‘What a giant of a man,’ said Julian. ‘I hope I grow as big as that.’