"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 18 - Five On Finniston Farm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

‘Yes. Do you know them?’ asked Julian, getting out some money to pay the bill.
‘I know the twins there,’ said the girl. ‘The two Harries. At least, I don’t know them well - nobody does. They’re just wrapped up in each other, they never make any friends. You look out for their old Great-Grand-dad - he’s a one, he is! He once fought a mad bull and knocked it out! And his voice - you can hear it for miles! I was real scared of going near the farm when I was little. But Mrs Philpot, she’s nice. You’ll like her. The twins are very good to her - and to their Dad, too - work like farm-hands all the holidays. You won’t know t’other from which, they’re so alike!’
‘Why did you call them the two Harries?’ asked Anne, curiously.
‘Oh, because they’ve both...’ began the child, and then broke off as a plump woman came bustling into the shop.
‘Janie - you go and see to the baby for me - I’ll see to the shop now. Run along!’
Away went the small girl, scuttling through the door.
‘Little gasbag she is!’ said her mother. ‘Anything more you want?’
‘No thanks,’ said Julian, getting up. ‘We must go. We’re to stay at Finniston Farm, so we may be seeing you again soon. We liked the ice-creams!’
‘Oh - so you’re going there, are you?’ said the plump woman. ‘I wonder how you’ll get on with the Harries! And keep out of Grand-dad’s way - he’s over eighty, but he can still give a mighty good thumping to anyone who crosses him!’
The Five went out into the hot sun again. Julian grinned round at the others. ‘Well - shall we go and find the nice Mrs Philpot - the unfriendly Harries, whoever they are - and the fearsome Great-Grand-dad? Sounds an interesting household, doesn’t it?’


Chapter Two

FINNISTON FARM

The four children, with Timmy trotting beside them, walked down the hot, dusty village street until they came to the end, and then saw the lane turning off to the right, just as the little girl had told them.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Anne, stopping at a curious little shop at the end of the village street. ‘Look - here’s a queer shop - it sells antiques. Look at those old horse-brasses - I’d like to get one or two of those. And just see those lovely old prints!’
‘Oh no - not now, Anne,’ said Julian, with a groan. ‘This awful sudden craze of yours for second-hand shops has been going on too long! Horse-brasses! You’ve got stacks of them already! If you think we’re going to go into that dark, smelly little shop and...’
‘Oh, I’m not going in now,’ said Anne, hurriedly. ‘But it does look rather exciting. I’ll come by myself sometime and prowl round.’ She glanced at the name on the shop front. ‘William Finniston - how funny to have the same name as the village! I wonder if...’
‘Oh, come on, Anne,’ said George impatiently, and Timmy tugged at her skirt. Anne gave one backward glance at the fascinating little shop-window, and hurried after the others, making up her mind to slip down to the shop one day when she was alone.
They all went up the little winding lane, where red poppy-heads jigged about in the breeze, and after a while they came in sight of the farm-house. It was a big one, three storey's high, with whitewashed walls, and the rather small windows belonging to the age in which it was built. Old-fashioned red and white roses rambled over the porch, and the old wooden door stood wide open.
The Five stood on the scrubbed stone entrance, looking into the dim hall. An old wooden chest stood there, and a carved chair. A rather threadbare rug lay on the stone floor, and a grandfather clock ticked slowly and loudly.
Somewhere a dog barked, and Timmy at once barked back. WOOF, WOOF!’
‘Be quiet, Timmy,’ said George sharply, afraid that a horde of farm-dogs might come rushing out. She looked for a bell or a knocker, but couldn’t see either. Then Dick spotted a beautiful wrought-iron handle hanging down from the roof of the porch. Could it be a bell?
He pulled it, and at once a bell jangled very loudly somewhere in the depths of the farm-house, making them all jump. They stood in silence, waiting for someone to come. Then they heard footsteps and two children came up the hallway.
They were exactly alike! The most twinny twins I’ve ever seen! thought Anne, in amazement. Julian smiled his friendliest smile. ‘Good afternoon - we’re the Kirrins - I - er I hope you’re expecting us.’
The twins stared at him without a smile. They nodded together. ‘Come this way,’ they both said, and marched back down the hall. The four stared at one another in surprise.
‘Why so stiff and haughty'’ whispered Dick, putting on a face exactly like the twins. Anne giggled. They all followed the twins, who were dressed exactly alike in navy shorts and navy shirts. They went right down the long hall, passed a stairway, round a dark corner, and into an enormous kitchen, which was obviously used as a sitting-room as well.
‘The Kirrins, Mother!’ said the twins, together, and at once disappeared through another door, shoulder to shoulder. The children found themselves facing a pleasant-looking woman, standing by a table, her hands white with flour. She smiled, and then gave a little laugh.
‘Oh, my dears! I didn’t expect you quite so soon! Do forgive my not being able to shake hands with you - but I was just making scones for your tea. I’m so pleased to see you. Did you have a good journey here?’
It was nice to hear her welcoming voice and see her wide smile. The Five warmed to her at once. Julian put down the suitcase he was carrying and looked round the room.
‘What a lovely old place!’ he said. ‘You carry on with your scone-making, Mrs Philpot - we’ll look after ourselves. Just tell us where to go. It’s nice of you to have us.’
‘I’m glad to,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I expect your aunt told you the farm’s not doing too well, and she kindly said she’d send you here for two weeks. I’ve some other boarders too - an American and his son - so I’m pretty busy.’
‘Well, you don’t need to bother too much about us,’ said Dick. ‘In fact, we’ll camp out under a haystack, if you like - or in a barn. We’re used to roughing it!’
‘Well - that might be a help,’ said Mrs Philpot, going on with her mixing. ‘I’ve a bedroom that would do for the girls all right - but I’m afraid you boys would have to share one with the American boy - and - er - well, you mightn’t like him.’
‘Oh, I expect we’ll get on all right,’ said Julian. ‘But my brother and I would certainly prefer to be by ourselves, Mrs Philpot. What about putting up camp-beds or something in a barn? We’d love that!’
Anne looked at Mrs Philpot’s kind, tired face, and felt suddenly sorry for her. How awful to have to have your home invaded by strangers, whether you liked them or not! She went over to her.
‘You tell Georgina and me anything you’d like us to do to help,’ she said. ‘You know - making the beds, and dusting and things like that. We’re used to doing things at home, and...’
‘I’m going to enjoy having you!’ said Mrs Philpot, looking round at them all. ‘And you won’t need to help very much. The twins do a great deal - too much, I think, bless them - because they help on the farm too. Now, you go up the stairs to the very top of the house, and you’ll see two bedrooms, one on each side of the landing - the left-hand one is yours, girls - the other is where the American boy is sleeping. And as for you two boys, you can slip out to the barn, and see if you’d like a couple of camp-beds there. I’ll get the twins to take you.’
The twins came back at this minute, and stood silently shoulder to shoulder, as alike as peas. George looked at them.
‘What’s your name?’ she said to one twin.
‘Harry!’ was the answer. She turned to the other. ‘And what’s yours?’
‘Harry!’
‘But surely you don’t both have the same name?’ exclaimed George.
‘Well, you see,’ explained their mother, ‘we called the boy Henry, and he became Harry, of course - and we called the girl Harriet, and she calls herself Harry for short - so they’re known as the Harries.’
‘I thought they were both boys!’ said Dick in amazement. ‘I wouldn’t know which is which!’
‘Well, they felt they have to be alike,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘and as Harry can’t have long hair like a girl, Harriet has to have short hair to be like Harry! I often don’t know one from the other myself.’
Dick grinned. ‘Funny how some girls want to be boys!’ he said, with a sly glance at George, who gave him a furious look.
‘Twins, show the Kirrins up to the top bedroom,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘and then take the boys out to the big barn. They can have the old camp-beds, if they like the look of the barn.’