5
quarry cottage
little brockleton was a dear little village. the car ran through it, scattering hens and a line ofquacking ducks. bill stopped at a little post office.
‘must just send off a message,’ he said. ‘won’t be a minute. then we’ll go and call at thefarmhouse to ask the way to quarry cottage, and to pick up eggs and things, and order milk.’
he reappeared again after a moment. the children knew that bill had to report where he waseach day, because urgent jobs might come his way at any moment – secret tasks that only he coulddo.
they went off to the farmhouse. the farmer’s wife was delighted to see them. ‘now, you comeaway in,’ she said. ‘i’ve been expecting you this last half-hour, and i’ve got tea for you. youwon’t find anything ready at the cottage, i know, and a good tea will help you along.’
‘that’s very kind of you,’ said mrs cunningham, gratefully. ‘my goodness – what a spread!’
it certainly was. it wasn’t an ordinary afternoon tea, it was a high tea. a fresh ham, glisteningpink. a veal and ham pie smothered in green parsley, like the ham. yellow butter in glass dishes.
a blue jug of thick yellow cream. honey. home- made strawberry jam. hot scones. a largefruitcake as black as a plum pudding inside. egg sandwiches. tea, cocoa and creamy milk.
‘i’m absolutely determined to live on a farm when i’m grown up,’ said jack, lookingapprovingly at all the food on the big round table. ‘i never saw such food as farm houses have. isay, isn’t this smashing?’
gussy felt glad that mrs cunningham had insisted that he should eat very little at lunch time. hefelt sure he had an appetite three times bigger than anyone else’s.
‘what will you have?’ asked the farmer’s wife, kindly, seeing his hungry look.
‘i will have some – some pig meat,’ said gussy. ‘and some pie meat with it. and i will havesome cream with it, and …’
‘he’s a little comedian isn’t he?’ said the farmer’s wife, with a laugh. ‘pig meat! does he meanham? and surely he’ll be sick if i pour cream over it all?’
‘cut him a little ham, if you will,’ said mrs cunningham. ‘no pie. he can’t possibly eat both.
and of course not the cream!’
‘i have ordered my meal,’ said gustavus, in a very haughty voice, staring at the surprisedfarmer’s wife. ‘i will have what i say. plizz,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘shut up, gus,’ said bill. ‘you’ll do as you’re told. you’re forgetting yourself.’
‘i have not forgot myself,’ said gus, puzzled. ‘i have remembered myself, and i want…’
‘shut up,’ said bill, and gus shut up.
the others grinned. it was nice to see bill squashing gussy gussy was very angry. he glared atbill, and seemed about to say something. but bill looked across at him, and he didn’t say it. billwinked at the others, and they winked back.
‘fussy-gussy,’ remarked kiki, from jack’s left shoulder. ‘ding-dong-bell, gussy’s in the well.’
‘pussy’s in the well, not gussy,’ corrected jack. ‘oh, you pest – you’ve nabbed a strawberry outof the jam!’
the farmer’s wife took kiki in her stride, and was not unduly surprised at her, nor annoyed.
‘my old aunt had a parrot once,’ she said. ‘one like yours here. she didn’t talk as well as yoursthough.’
‘is she alive?’ asked jack, thinking that it would be fun to put the two parrots together and seethem eyeing one another. what kind of conversation would they have?
‘is who alive? my aunt or her parrot?’ asked the famer’s wife, pouring out cups of creamy milk.
‘the parrot’s dead. it was supposed to be over a hundred years old when it died. my old aunt isstill alive, though. there she is, sitting by the fire over in the corner. she’s my great-aunt really,and she’ll be more than a hundred if she lives another ten years.’
the five children stared in awe at the old woman in the corner. she looked rather like a witch tothem, but her eyes were faded blue, instead of green. she smiled a dim smile at them, and thenbent her white head to her knitting again.
‘she’s a real worry sometimes,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘she wanders round and falls about, youknow. and the doctor’s off on a week’s holiday soon, and what i shall do if old aunt naomi fallsand hurts herself then, i don’t know! there’s no neighbours near but you – and you’re a good bitaway!’
‘you send a message to us if you want us at any time,’ said mrs cunningham at once. ‘i’llcertainly come. i am quite good at first-aid and nursing. so don’t worry about the doctor going.
send a message if you want us.’
‘ah, yes – i could do that,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘thank you kindly. now – who wants a bit ofthat fruitcake? it’s good, though i shouldn’t say it, seeing that i made it myself‘if i eat any more i shan’t be able to move a step,’ said bill, at last. ‘will you kindly make upyour minds to finish, you kids? we’ll get along to quarry cottage, and settle in. did you manageto send someone in to clean up the place for us, mrs ellis?’
‘oh yes,’ said the farmer’s wife. ‘and she took eggs, milk, a pie, some home-made cheese, hamand butter and new bread for you. oh yes, and a side of bacon. you won’t do too badly downthere! come along to me when you want anything. i hope you have a good, restful holiday.’
they left the cosy farmhouse reluctantly. jack eyed gussy suspiciously as the got into the car.
‘you look a bit green,’ he said. ‘sure you’ll be all right in the car?’
‘he’ll be all right,’ said mrs cunningham, hurriedly. ‘it’s not very far – he’ll be quite all right.’
‘wishful thinking, aunt allie!’ said jack. ‘kiki’s very quiet. kiki, you’ve made a pig ofyourself too – a little pig, eating such a big tea!’
kiki gave a big hiccup. nobody ever knew if her hiccups were real or put on. mrs cunninghamalways felt quite certain that they were put on.
‘kiki!’ said jack, severely. ‘manners, manners!’
‘pardon,’ said kiki. gussy stared at her in amazement. it was surprising enough for a parrot tohiccup, but even more surprising that she should apologize! he quite forgot to feel sick because ofhis astonishment at kiki.
down a winding lane – up a little hill – down another lane whose hedges were so high that thechildren felt they were in a green tunnel. round a sharp bend, and then there was quarry cottage,standing a little way back from the lane.
it was a pretty place, its garden full of primroses, wallflowers and daffodils. the people whoowned it had gone to the south of france for a holiday, and had been pleased to let it to bill.
the windows were rather small, as they always are in old cottages. the door was stout, made ofoak darkened by the years, and was protected by a small porch, thatched with straw like thesloping roof of the cottage.
‘a thatched cottage – how lovely!’ said lucy-ann. ‘i don’t know why, but thatched housesalways look as if they belong to fairy-tales, not to real life. it’s a dear little place.’
they went up the path. bill had the key and unlocked the door. in they all went, exclaimingover everything.
‘i need hardly remind you that this house, and everything in it, belongs to someone else,’ saidmrs cunningham. ‘so that we’ll have to be extra careful – but as you will probably be out ofdoors most of the day you won’t have time to do much damage!’
‘we shouldn’t anyway,’ said jack. ‘not with bill here ready to jump on us!’
the cottage was just as pretty inside as out, and very cosy and comfortable. the three boys hada big attic, the two girls had a small bedroom over the sitting room, and bill and his wife had alarger one next to it.
the larder was full of food! mrs ellis, the farmer’s wife, had certainly remembered themgenerously. mrs cunningham heaved a sigh of relief as she looked at the ham and bacon, eggs andmilk. housekeeping was not going to be the nightmare she had expected!
‘you two girls unpack everything,’ she said. ‘we’ve not brought much with us, so it won’t takeyou long. arrange the boys’ things in the big chest in their room – there’s enough room for theclothes of all three there.’
‘i cannot slip with others,’ announced gustavus, coming down the stairs into the hall, where thegirls and mrs cunningham were undoing the suitcases. ‘never have i slipt with others.’
‘what are you talking about?’ said dinah. ‘nobody wants you to slip. why should you?’
‘he means sleep,’ said lucy-ann. ‘don’t you, gussy?’
‘it is what i said,’ said gussy. ‘i may not slip with others. at school i slipt by myself. here iwill slip by myself also. it iss the rule of my family.’
‘well, it isn’t the rule here,’ said dinah. ‘get off those shirts, gus. and don’t be an ass. thereare only three bedrooms, anyway.’
‘what’s the argument?’ said bill, coming in after putting the car into a shed, and seeing gussy’sfrowning face.
‘it’s gus,’ said dinah, piling her arms full of clothes. ‘he’s just announced he wants to sleep byhimself. says it’s the rule of his family. who does he think he is? a prince?’
gussy opened his mouth to reply, and bill hurriedly interrupted what he was going to say. ‘gus,you’ll sleep with the two boys here. understand?’
‘i slip alone,’ said gus, obstinately. ‘never have i …’
‘there’s a tiny little box-room he could have,’ said dinah, suddenly, a gleam in her eye. ‘i sawit just now, when i was upstairs. he could “slip” there. i’m sure he won’t mind the dozens ofcolossal spiders there – ugh, they’ve all got hairy legs. and i heard a mouse – or it might havebeen a rat – scuttling behind the cistern – and …’
gus looked horrified. ‘no. i do not slip with spiders and mouses,’ he said. ‘but still it is notright that i should slip with philip and jack. and i will not slip with that wicket bird.’
‘come in here a minute, gus,’ said bill, and he took the boy firmly by the shoulder, led him intothe sitting room and shut the door. the two girls heard a murmur of voices, and looked at oneanother in surprise.
‘mother, what’s all the fuss about?’ said dinah, puzzled. ‘why doesn’t bill put that silly younggus in his place? if he’s going to be high and mighty all the time, and give his orders, and act insuch an idiotic way, we’re all going to hate him.’
‘leave it to bill,’ said her mother, and then changed the subject. ‘take those things up, dinah –and lucy-ann, put these things in my room, will you? now, did i pack bill’s set of pipes, ordidn’t i?’
the girls went upstairs. ‘mother’s as mysterious about gus as bill is,’ said dinah, crossly. ‘isthere some mystery about him? can he be a prince in disguise, or something?’
‘what! a funny little boy like him!’ said lucy-ann, in disgust. ‘of course not!’
