"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 20 - Five Have a Mystery to Solve" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

Chapter Eight
MOSTLY ABOUT WILFRID

Timmy was waiting for the children at the top of the hill, his tail waving, his mouth open as he panted. He picked something up, as the children came, threw it into the air, and caught it.
‘Another golf-ball, Timmy?’ said Dick, as Timmy threw the ball into the air again with a toss of his big head.
‘No - it’s too big for that,’ said George. ‘Drop it, Timmy. What have you found?’
Timmy dropped the ball at George’s feet. It was bigger than a golf-ball, and had a hole right through it. ‘Oh, it’s one of those balls that children throw up and try to catch on a stick,’ said George. ‘Somebody must have dropped it. All right, Tim, you can have it.’
‘He won’t swallow it, will he?’ said Wilfrid, anxiously. ‘It’s not awfully big - and I once saw a dog swallow something by mistake, that he threw into the air to catch.’
‘Timmy’s much too sensible to swallow any ball,’ said George. ‘You needn’t worry about him. Anyway, I can do any worrying necessary. He’s my dog.’
‘All right, all right, all right!’ said Wilfrid. ‘Miss High-and-Mighty can look after her own dog. Fine!’
George looked round at him furiously and he made a face at her. Then he whistled to Timmy - yes, he actually dared to whistle to him!
‘Nobody whistles for my dog except me,’ said George. ‘And anyway, he won’t come to you.’
But, to her surprise and horror, Timmy did go to Wilfrid, and pranced all round him, expecting a game. George called him sternly, and he looked at her in surprise. He began to trot over to her when Wilfrid whistled again, and obediently Timmy turned as if to go to him.
George caught hold of the dog’s collar, and aimed a punch at the whistling boy. It missed him, and he danced round, laughing.
‘Stop it now, you two,’ said Julian, seeing George’s look of fury. ‘I said STOP IT! Wilfrid, go on ahead, and keep going. George, don’t be an ass. He’s only teasing you to make you lose your temper. Don’t please him by losing it!’
George said nothing more, but her eyes blazed. Oh dear! thought Anne, now we shan’t have any peace! She won’t forgive Wilfrid for making Timmy go to him! Blow Wilfrid - he really is a little pest at times.
They were all very hungry for their lunch and very pleased with everything that Anne provided. Dick went into the little cottage to help her, because George insisted on keeping her hand on Timmy’s collar all the time, in case Wilfrid should entice him to his side.
‘He’s making some of his peculiar noises now,’ said Dick to Anne. ‘Noises that animals can’t seem to resist! I don’t wonder that George has got Timmy tightly by the collar! I’m not a dog, but I find those little whiny noises Wilfrid is making very curious indeed, and I’d love to go nearer!’
‘Well, I hope we’re not going to have black looks from George from now on,’ said Anne. ‘Wilfrid’s an awful little idiot at times, and MOST irritating - but he’s not bad underneath, if you know what I mean.’
‘Well, I don’t really,’ said Dick, cutting some tomatoes in half. ‘I think he’s a badly brought-up little pest - and if I were a dog, I’d bite him, not fawn on him! Have I cut up enough tomatoes, Anne?’
‘Good gracious, yes!’ said Anne. ‘However many do you think we’re going to eat - forty or fifty? Look, you open this tin for me, Dick. I do so hate opening tins. I nearly always cut myself.’
‘Don’t you ever open one again, then,’ said Dick. ‘I’m the official tin-opener from now on! Dear old Anne, whatever should we do without you! You take everything on your shoulders, and we just let you! George ought to help more. She’s a girl like you - but she never gets the meals or anything. I’ll tick her off one of these days.’
‘No, don’t,’ said Anne, in alarm. ‘I like doing things on my own. George would only break things or upset them. She’s as ham-handed as a boy when it comes to washing up or setting out crockery though she means well.’
‘So boys are ham-handed, are they?’ said Dick, pretending to be offended. ‘When have I ever broken anything, I’d like to know? I’m as careful as any girl, when I handle crockery!’
Alas for Dick! The glass he was holding suddenly slipped from his hand, fell to the floor, and broke! Anne looked at him and gave a sudden delighted giggle. ‘Old Ham-hand!’ she said. ‘Can’t pick up a glass without dropping it! Look, take out this tray for me, and for goodness sake don’t drop that!’
They all had a delicious lunch, and ate practically everything. Wilfrid sat a little away from everyone, scattering crumbs around as he ate. Birds of all kinds were soon round him, even hopping on to his hands. A magpie flew down to his left shoulder. Wilfrid greeted it like an old friend. ‘Hallo, Maggie Pie! How’s the family? I hope Polly Pie has recovered from her cold. And is Peter Pie’s bad leg better? And what about old Granpa Pie - does he still chase you young ones?’
The magpie put its glossy head on one side and chattered back to him in bird-language, which Wilfrid appeared to understand. He stroked the bird’s gleaming breast, and fondled it lovingly. George deliberately didn’t watch. She turned her back on Wilfrid and the magpie, and talked to Timmy. The others couldn’t help being amused.
The magpie put Wilfrid’s conversation to an end very suddenly. The boy was about to put half a tomato into his mouth when the bird bent down its head and snatched away the tomato with its powerful beak. Then it rose quickly into the air on its big wings, making a noise exactly as if it were laughing!
Everyone roared with laughter except the surprised Wilfrid. ‘He’s gone to take your tomato to Polly Pie, I should think,’ said Anne, and that made everyone laugh again.
‘I’ll have another tomato now, please,’ said Wilfrid.
‘Sorry. You’re unlucky. They’re all gone,’ said Dick.
It was lovely sitting up on the hillside, watching the boats in the harbour, and seeing the beautiful, white-sailed yachts bending to and fro in the strong wind that blew there. They could all see Whispering Island quite clearly, and noticed that no boats went anywhere near it. Clearly everyone knew that men might be there, watching for intruders.
‘There might be badgers there,’ said Wilfrid, suddenly. ‘I’ve never been really close to a badger.’
‘I shouldn’t think anyone but you would want to be!’ said George. ‘Smelly things! There’s one thing - you can’t call one with your whistle-pipe - there aren’t any here!’
‘Wilfrid - get out your pipe and make the little rabbits come again,’ said Anne, suddenly. ‘While we’re all sitting here quietly. Would they come?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Wilfrid, and felt in his pocket. He felt in another pocket, and looked worried. Then he stood up and patted himself all over, looking really distressed. He stared round at the others, anguish on his face.
‘It’s gone,’ he said. ‘I must have lost it! It’s gone! I’ll never have another like it, never.’
‘Oh, it must be in one of your pockets,’ said Dick, touched by the look on the boy’s face. ‘Here, let me feel.’
But no - the pipe wasn’t there. Wilfrid looked as if he were about to burst into tears. He began to hunt all round, and everyone helped him. No - not quite everyone. George didn’t. Dick glanced at her, and frowned. George was pleased that the precious pipe was lost. How she must dislike poor Wilfrid! Well, he was dislikeable at times, no doubt about it - but he was so distressed now that surely nobody could help feeling sorry for him!
George got up and began to clear away the remains of the meal. She carried plates and glasses to the hut, and after a while Anne followed her.
‘I’m sorry for poor old Wilfrid, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘No, I’m not,’ said George, shortly. ‘Serves him right! I hope he never finds his silly pipe. That will teach him not to try and get Timmy away from me!’
‘Oh, don’t be silly! He only does it for fun!’ said Anne, shocked. ‘Why do you take things so seriously, George? You know Timmy loves you better than anyone in the world and always will. He’s your dog and nobody, nobody else’s! Wilfrid’s only teasing you when he tries to get Timmy to go to him.’
‘Timmy goes, though,’ said George, desperately. ‘And he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.’
‘He can’t help it, I think,’ said Anne. ‘Wilfrid has some peculiar attraction for animals - and that little whistle-pipe of his is like a magic call to them.’
‘I’m glad it’s gone!’ said George. ‘Glad, glad, glad!’
‘Then I think you’re silly and unkind,’ said Anne, and walked off, knowing that she could do nothing with George in this mood. She worried a little as she went. Did George know where the pipe was? Had she found it - and hidden it - or destroyed it? No - no! George could be difficult and unkind at times, but she wasn’t mean. And what a mean thing it would be, to destroy the beautiful little pipe, with its magic trills!
Anne went back to the others, meaning to try and comfort Wilfrid - but he wasn’t there. ‘Where’s he gone?’ asked Anne.
‘To look for his precious whistle-pipe,’ said Dick. ‘He’s really heartbroken about it, I think. He says he’s going to walk back the way we came from the golf-course, and then he’s going to walk everywhere there that we walked this morning, and hunt and hunt. He’s even going down to the club-house to see if he dropped it there. He’ll never find it!’