"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 19 - Five Go to Demon's Rock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

He saw the little creature sitting on the top of the rail at the foot of the stairs. It saw Timmy, and danced up and down, sounding as if it were laughing. Timmy raced to the rail and leapt up, barking fiercely.
The study door flew open and out marched not one angry Professor, but two!
WIIAT’S ALL THIS NOISE? CAN’T WE HAVE A MOMENT’S PEACE?
‘Oh dear!’ said Mrs Kirrin, foreseeing this kind of thing happening twenty times a day, now that Timmy and the others were here. She shushed the two angry men.
‘Now, now - Timmy just isn’t used to the monkey yet. Go back, please, and shut the door. I’ll see you aren’t disturbed again!’
‘WOOF-WOOF!’ shouted Timmy, using his very loudest bark, and Professor Hayling shot back into the study at top speed!
‘Any more rudeness from Timmy and I’ll have him sent away!’ roared Mr Kirrin, and he too disappeared.
‘WELL!’ said George, her face red with anger. ‘What does he mean by that, Mother? If Timmy goes, I go too! Oh look at that monkey - he’s sitting on top of the grandfather clock now! He ought to be sent away, horrid little mischievous thing - not old Timmy!’


Chapter Three

MISCHIEF, TINKER - AND TIMMY!

Julian and Dick set to work to take a couple of old mattresses up to the loft, and some rugs and a couple of cushions for pillows. It was rather draughty! But what else was to be done? It was still too cold to sleep outside in a tent.
George was very sulky. ‘That scowl will grow on your face, George, if you aren’t careful,’ said Dick. ‘Cheer up, for goodness’ sake. It’s worse for your mother than it is for any of us. She’s going to be very busy this week.’
She certainly was! Meals for nine people, five of them very hungry children, were not easy to provide. Joan did an enormous amount of cooking, the girls helped with the housework, and the boys cycled off to Kirrin village in the mornings to do the shopping.
‘Why can’t that boy Tinker help?’ demanded George, on the second day they were at home. ‘What on earth does he think he’s doing now? Look at him out in the garden rushing all round, making a frightful noise. Tinker, shut up! You’ll disturb your father and mine.’
‘You shut up yourself!’ called back Tinker, rudely. ‘Can’t you see I’m a Bentley car, with a very powerful engine? And see how well it stops when I put on the brakes - no jerk at all! And hear the horn - marvellous!’
He gave a remarkably good imitation of a powerful car-horn. At once the study window shot up and two very angry men shouted together:
‘TINKER! What do you think you’re doing, making that noise? You’ve been told to be QUIET!’
Tinker began to explain about the Bentley, but as this didn’t seem to satisfy either of the angry men, he offered to be a little mini-car. ‘You see, it goes like this,’ said Tinker, beginning to move off, making a low purring noise, ‘and it...’
But the window was slammed shut, so the little minicar drove itself into the kitchen, and said it was very hungry, could it have a bun?
‘I don’t feed cars,’ said Joan. ‘I have no petrol. Go away.’
The mini-car purred out of the kitchen on its two legs, and went to look for passengers. Mischief the monkey scampered up, and ran up Tinker’s body to his shoulder.
‘You’re my passenger,’ said Tinker, and Mischief held on to his hair as he drove all round the garden at top speed, honking every now and again, but very quietly indeed.
‘He’s a funny child,’ said Joan to Mrs Kirrin, wlien she came into the kitchen. ‘Not bad really - him and his cars! I’ve never seen a child so mad on them in my life! One of these days he’ll turn into one!’
It began to rain next day and Tinker couldn’t go out. He nearly drove everyone mad, rushing about all over the house hooting, and purring like a car engine.
‘Now look,’ Joan said to him, when for the twentieth time he drove himself all round her kitchen. ‘I don’t care if you’re a Morris Minor, or an Austin, or a Consul, or even a Rolls - you just keep out of my kitchen! It’s a funny thing to think that a fine car like a Rolls can steal a bun out of my tin - it ought to be ashamed of itself!’
‘Well, if I can’t get petrol, I’ve got to get something to run on, haven’t I?’ demanded Tinker. ‘Look at Mischief - he’s helping himself to apples in the larder, but you don’t say anything to him!’
‘Oh lands sakes, is that creature in the larder again?’ cried poor Joan, rushing across the kitchen. ‘Who left it open, I’d like to know?’
‘Timmy did,’ said Tinker.
‘You little fibber!’ said Joan, as she shooed Mischief out of the larder. ‘Timmy would never do a thing like that. He’s as honest as the day, not like that little thief of a monkey of yours!’
‘Don’t you like him?’ said Tinker, sorrowfully. ‘He likes you.’
Joan glanced across at the tiny monkey. He sat huddled in a corner, his arms over his face, looking very small and sad. One small brown eye peeped out at Joan.
‘You’re a humbug, you are!’ said Joan. ‘Looking as if you’re the unhappiest monkey in the world, when all the time you’re thinking what mischief to do next. Here - come and get this biscuit, you rascal - and don’t you dare to go near Timmy this morning. He’s very very angry with you.’
‘What did Mischief do to Timmy?’ asked Tinker, surprised.
‘He went to Timmy’s dish and stole one of the bones there,’ said Joan. ‘Timmy growled like a roll of thunder! I really thought he would bite off the monkey’s tail. My word, you should have seen Mischief skedaddle!’
Mischief had now crept up cautiously to Joan, eyeing the biscuit she held. He had had one or two slaps from her for stealing, and he was rather wary of her quick right hand.
‘Here you are - take the biscuit, for goodness’ sake,’ said Joan. ‘And don’t look such a little misery, or I might suddenly find myself giving you another biscuit. Hallo - where’s he gone?’
The monkey had snatched the biscuit with one of his tiny paws, and had scampered away to the door. It was shut, so Tinker opened it for him. At once Timmy came in. He had been lying outside the door, sniffing the good smell of soup cooking on the stove.
Mischief leapt to the top of a chair-back and made a strange little whinnying sound - rather apologetic and sad. Timmy stood still and pricked up his ears. He understood animal language very well!
Mischief still held the biscuit. He leapt down to the seat of the chair - and then, to Joan’s enormous surprise, he held out the biscuit to Timmy! He chattered in a very small voice, and Timmy listened gravely. Then the big dog took the biscuit gently, threw it up into the air, chewed it once, and swallowed it!
‘Well, did you ever see anything like that before!’ said Joan, marvelling. ‘For all the world as if Mischief was apologizing to Timmy for stealing his bone - and offering him his biscuit to make up! Well, whatever will George say when she hears!’
Timmy licked his lips to see if any biscuit crumbs were left, and then put his big head forward, and gave the monkey a sudden lick on the tip of his funny little nose.
‘Timmy’s saying thank you!’ cried Tinker, in delight. ‘Now they’ll be friends - you see if they won’t!’
Joan was astonished and pleased. Well, well - to think of that monkey being clever enough to present Timmy with a biscuit that he very much wanted to eat himself! He wasn’t a bad little thing! She went upstairs to find George and tell her.
But George didn’t believe her. ‘Timmy would never take a biscuit from that silly little monkey!’ she said. ‘Never! You made all that up, Joan, just because you’re getting fond of Mischief. You wait till he runs off with your toasting-fork again!’
All the same, George went down with Joan, curious to see if the two animals were becoming friendly - and she saw a very strange sight indeed!
Mischief was on Timmy’s back, and Timmy was solemnly trotting round the kitchen, giving him a ride! The monkey was chattering in delight, and Tinker was shouting in glee.