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

‘Yes - he says he’s got an old Land-Rover and he’ll take us all over the farm tomorrow,’ said Dick, pleased. ‘And we can ride on that tractor, if Bill - that’s one of his farm-hands - will let us. He says Bill won’t have Junior on the tractor at any price - so maybe there’ll be ructions if he sees us on it!’
‘Well, I’m all ready for a ruction, and so is Timmy,’ said George grimly. ‘Sooner or later I’m going to tell Junior a few home-truths.’
‘We’d all like to do that,’ said Julian. ‘But let’s hold our horses till a good moment comes - I don’t want that nice Mrs Phitpot upset - and you know, if we caused her to lose the two Americans she might suffer badly - in her pocket! I bet they pay well.’
‘Well - I understand all that too, Ju,’ said George. ‘But Timmy doesn’t. He’s longing to have a go at Junior!’
‘And how I share that feeling!’ said Dick, rubbing Timmy’s big head. ‘What’s the time? Shall we go for a walk.”
‘No,’ said Julian. ‘My legs feel stiff with cycling up so many Dorset hills today. I vote we just stroll around a bit, not go for miles.’
The Five set off together, wandering round the farm buildings, They were all very old, some of them falling to pieces. The roofs had great Dorset tiles, made of stone, uneven and roughly shaped. They were a lovely grey, and were brilliant with lichen and moss.
‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ said George, stopping to look at the tiles on a small out-house. ‘Look at that lichen, did you ever see such a brilliant orange? But what a pity - half of them have gone from this roof, and someone has replaced them with horrid cheap tiles!’
‘Maybe the Philpots sold them,’ said Julian. ‘Old tiles like that, brilliant with lichen, can fetch quite a bit of money - especially from Americans. There’s many a barn out in America covered with old tiles from this country, moss and all. A bit of old England!’
‘If I had a lovely old place like this I wouldn’t sell one single tile, or one single bit of moss!’ said George, quite fiercely.
‘Maybe you wouldn’t,’ said Dick. ‘But some would - if they loved their farm enough and didn’t want to see it go to pieces for lack of money. Their fields would be worth more than old tiles to them!’
‘I bet old Grand-dad wouldn’t sell them if he could help it!’ said Anne. ‘I wonder if the American has tried to buy any of these tiles? I guess he has.’
They had an interesting time wandering round. They found one old barn-like shed stacked with ancient cast-away junk, and Julian rummaged in it with great interest.
‘Look at this giant cart-wheel!’ he said, peering into a dark corner. ‘It’s almost as tall as I am! My word - they must have made all their own wheels here in the old days - in this very shed, perhaps. And maybe their own tools too. Look at this old tool - what in the world is it?’
They gazed at the curious curved tool, still as strong and as good as it had been two or three centuries before. It was heavy, and Julian thought that he wouldn’t have liked to use it for more than ten minutes at a time!
‘But I bet old Grand-dad could use it for a whole day and never get tired,’ he said. ‘When he was a young man, I mean. He must have been as strong as an ox, then.’
‘Well, you remember what the girl at the dairy said,’ put in Anne. ‘She said he had once fought a bull and knocked it out. We must ask him about that. I bet he’d love to tell us.’
‘He’s a real old character!’ said Julian. ‘I like him, shouts and temper and all. Come on - it’s getting latish. We didn’t ask about the evening meal. I wonder what time we ought to get back for it?’
‘Half past seven,’ said George. ‘I asked. We’d better go back now, because we’ll have to get ourselves clean - and Anne and I want to help lay the table.’
‘Right. Back we go,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Tim. Stop sniffing about that old rubbish. Surely you can’t smell anything exciting there!’
They went back to the farm-house, and the girls went to wash at the kitchen sink, seeing Mrs Philpot already preparing for supper. ‘Won’t be a minute!’ called Anne. ‘We’ll do those potatoes for you, Mrs Philpot. I say, what a lovely farm this is. We’ve been exploring those old sheds.’
‘Yes - they need clearing out,’ said Mrs Philpot, who looked better for the rest she had had. ‘But old Great-Grand-dad, he won’t have them touched. Says he promised his Grand-dad not to let them go to anyone! But we did sell some of those lovely old grey tiles once - to an American, of course, a friend of Mr Benning’s - and Grand-dad almost went out of his mind. Shouted day and night, poor old chap, and went about with a pitch-fork in his hand all the time, daring any stranger even so much as to walk over the fields! We had such a time with him.’
‘Good gracious!’ said Anne, having a sudden vision of the grand old man stalking about his fields, shouting, and waving a great pitch-fork.
Supper was really a very pleasant meal, for Mr Henning and Junior didn’t come in. There was much talk and laughter at the table, though the twins, as usual, said hardly anything. They puzzled Anne. Why should they be so unfriendly? She smiled at them once or twice, but each time they turned their eyes away. Snippet lay at their feet, and Timmy lay under the table. Great-Grand-dad was not there, nor was Mr Philpot.
‘They’re both making the best of the daylight,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘There’s a lot to do on the farm just now.’
The children enjoyed the meat-pie that Mrs Philpot had baked, and the stewed plums and rich cream that followed. Anne suddenly yawned a very large yawn.
‘Sorry!’ she said. ‘It just came all of a sudden. I don’t know why I feel so sleepy.’
‘You’ve set me off now,’ said Dick, and put his hand in front of an even larger yawn. ‘Well, I don’t wonder we feel sleepy. Ju and I set off at dawn this morning - and I know you girls had a jolly long bus-ride!’
‘Well, you go to bed, all of you, as early as you like,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I expect you’ll want to be up bright and early in the morning. The Harries are always up about six o’clock - they just will not stay in bed!’
‘And what time does Junior get up?’ asked George, with a grin. ‘Six o’clock too?’
‘Oh, not before nine o’clock usually,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Mr Henning comes down about eleven - he likes his breakfast in bed. So does Junior.’
‘WHAT? You don’t mean to say you take breakfast up to that lazy little pest?’ said Dick, astounded. ‘Why don’t you go and drag him out by the ankles?’
‘Well - they are guests and pay well for being here,’ said Mrs Philpot.
‘I’ll take Junior his breakfast,’ said George, much to everyone’s astonishment. ‘Timmy and I together. We’d like to. Wouldn’t we, Timmy?’
Timmy made a most peculiar noise from under the table. ‘That sounded like a laugh to me,’ said Dick. ‘And I’m not surprised! I’d just like to see Junior’s face if you and Tim walked in on him with his breakfast!’
‘Do you bet me I won’t do it?’ demanded George, really on her mettle now.
‘Yes. I do bet you,’ said Dick at once. ‘I bet you my new pocket-knife you won’t!’
‘Taken!’ said George. Mrs Philpot looked puzzled. ‘No, no, my dears,’ she said. ‘I can’t have one guest waiting on another. Though I must say those stairs are a trial to my legs, when I’m carrying up trays!’
‘I’ll take up Junior’s tray and Mr Henning’s too, if you like,’ said George, in a half-kind, half-fierce voice.
‘NOT Mr Henning’s,’ said Julian, giving George a warning look. ‘Don’t go too far, old thing. Just Junior’s tray will be enough.’
‘All right, all right,’ said George, rather sulkily. ‘Aren’t Junior and Mr Henning coming in to supper?’
‘Not tonight,’ said Mrs Philpot, in a thankful voice. ‘They’re dining at some hotel in Dorchester, I think. I expect they get a bit tired of our simple farm-house meals. I only hope they won’t be too late back. Great-Grand-dad likes to lock up early.’
The children were really glad when the evening meal was cleared away and washed up, for they all felt heavy with sleep. The good strong air, the exciting day and the many jobs they had done had really tired them.
‘Good night, Mrs Philpot,’ they said, when everything was done. ‘We’re off to bed. Are the twins coming too?’
The twins actually condescended to nod. They looked tired out. Julian wondered where Mr Philpot and old Great-Grand-dad were - still out working, he supposed. He yawned. Well, he was for bed - and even if he had had to sleep on the bare ground that night, he knew he would sleep well! He thought longingly of his camp-bed.
They went their various ways - the twins and Julian and Dick to the big barn - the girls upstairs to the room opposite Junior’s. George peeped into it. It was even untidier than before, and obviously Junior must have been eating nuts up there, for the floor was strewn with shells.
They were soon in bed - the girls cuddled together in the big, rather hard, old bed, the boys in their separate camp-beds. Timmy was on George’s feet, and Snippet slept first on one twin’s feet, and then on the other’s. He was always perfectly fair in his favours!
A crashing noise awoke the girls about two hours later, and they sat upright in bed, alarmed. Timmy began to bark. George crept to the top of the stairs, hearing Grand-dad’s loud voice below, and then crept back to Anne.
‘It’s Mr Henning and Junior come back,’ she said. ‘Apparently old Grand-dad had locked up, and they crashed and banged on the knocker. My, what a to-do! Here comes Junior!’ And indeed, here Junior did come, stamping up the stairs, and singing loudly.
‘Little pest!’ said George. ‘Wait till I take him his breakfast tomorrow!’