The Picts & the Martyrs. Arthur RansomeЧитать онлайн книгу.
it would be better if we did.”
“I wish there was some way of reminding them about Timothy,” said Dick. “Shall I scout along towards the house?”
“No good,” said Dorothea. “One of them’s sure to be here in a minute, because of bringing the milk.”
“I’m going to look for a goldcrest,” said Dick. “Larches are always likely trees for them.”
Five minutes later he came hurrying back.
“Quick. Quick,” he whispered. “There’s someone in the wood. Coming this way.”
There was hardly time for them to get into the cover of the coppice. “Don’t move,” whispered Dick. “You can’t help making a noise on the stones … Look. I can see his legs.” Dick was crouching low, looking out below the leafy branches.
“It’s Squashy Hat himself,” said Dorothea. “It’s Timothy. Hi!”
The tall thin man hurrying through the larches stopped short as they ran out.
“Hullo!” he said.
“You mustn’t go to Beckfoot,” said Dorothea. “Or have you been?”
“You mustn’t say anything about us,” said Dick.
Dorothea was not sure whether Timothy was blushing or whether it was that he was hot. His lean face was much redder than usual.
“What’s going on at Beckfoot?” he said. “I was just turning the boat to row into the boathouse when I saw Nancy and Peggy with an ancient dame. And the clothes! I hardly knew them. The old lady didn’t see me. No more did Peggy. But Nancy did and looked scared out of her life. She waved me away down the river. So I went out round the point and landed there close under the road. I really did not know what to do. But I’ve got to get up to the mine. So I came along the road, and bless me, as I was turning the corner by Beckfoot there they were again. Nancy, Peggy and the old lady, all three together.”
“What did she say to you?” asked Dorothea. “You didn’t ask about us?”
Timothy turned a little redder. “I … Well, you know how it is. I never can stand meeting strange people. I just nipped over into the wood and dodged past them through the trees. Only thing I could do … ”
“Thank goodness,” said Dorothea.
“They may turn round and come this way,” said Dick.
“I’d better get on,” said Timothy. “If she comes along here … ”
“We’ll keep out of sight. Come and look at our house and we’ll explain.”
“What house?”
“We aren’t at Beckfoot any more,” said Dorothea.
“What?”
“We don’t exist. That’s why it’s so important that when you go there you mustn’t ask about us. That was Nancy’s and Peggy’s Great Aunt you saw. She’s turned up to look after them and Nancy thought we’d better clear out.”
“But bless my soul,” said Timothy. “You’re staying there.”
“Not now,” said Dorothea. “You see the Great Aunt found out that Nancy and Peggy were by themselves at Beckfoot and she’s furious with Mrs. Blackett. Nancy says she always is about something or other, and it would be much worse if she found out that Mrs. Blackett had let them have visitors while she was away. So we’ve just moved into our own house. You’d better come and see it, and then we can talk without so much danger of people hearing. If she’s out walking, she might turn back and come this way any minute.”
“It’s up here,” said Dick, and led the way up the path.
“So that’s Miss Turner is it?” said Timothy. “Jim’s told me about her. And that’s why I hardly knew them when I saw them looking at the flower beds. Dressed up like that. Not much of the gold prospector about Nancy when she’s … Yes, I know. Of course it isn’t her fault. But look here, if that old lady’s staying at Beckfoot, how can I ever go in there to work in Jim’s den?”
“It’s all right for you,” said Dorothea. “You can just walk in and be introduced.”
“Not after she’s seen me shinning a wall to get away from her,” said Timothy. “No, thank you.”
“All that matters is that you mustn’t let out anything about us.”
“Well, let’s have a look at your house,” said Timothy.
They walked up the rough path, where Timothy had to stoop and push his way through the branches. He seemed only half to hear what was said to him. He kept on muttering to himself.
“This is the house,” said Dorothea as they came out into the clearing before the old hut. She looked anxiously at Timothy, half expecting that he would disapprove.
“I’ve slept in much worse places,” he said. He went in with them and looked round. “You want a bit of moss in those holes,” he said, looking at the roof.
“I thought of that,” said Dick.
“But you’ve a good fireplace and hammocks and not too far to go for your water … No, you might be much worse off. It’s not that. But hang it all, I promised Jim I’d keep an eye on you. And we’ve work to do in Jim’s den before he comes back.”
“Dick can’t go there now,” said Dorothea.
“We’re badgers,” said Dick.
“Picts,” said Dorothea. “Chased out, you know, but keeping alive underground. At least not exactly underground, but in secret.”
Timothy shook his head. “How long do you think you can keep a secret like that? You can’t. The old lady’ll hear of it, and things’ll be worse than if she’d found you the moment she arrived.”
“She’d have had a fit if she’d seen the spare room as it was,” said Dorothea. “There was this over the top of the bed.” She pointed to Nancy’s skull grinning on the wall above its crossed bones.
“How many people know already?” asked Timothy.
“Nancy and Peggy,” said Dick.
“And old Cook,” said Dorothea. “And the postman. Nancy had to tell him this morning … ”
“The whole countryside will know if the postman knows,” said Timothy.
“It’s only for ten days,” said Dorothea.
“She’ll find out in two,” said Timothy. “And then there’ll be the dickens to pay. I wish Jim were here to deal with this.”
“Nancy’ll manage,” said Dorothea. “Of course the other way would have been to do some of the things Nancy said she’d like to do … You know … Putting gravel between the sheets and the mattress, putting a drop of paraffin in her morning tea, cutting the butter with an oniony knife, and so on, till she boiled over and went home. Only that way, she would have worked out her rage on Mrs. Blackett. This way, Nancy’s going to keep the Great Aunt happy, so that she won’t have any excuse for being down on anyone. All we’ve got to do is to keep out of sight. Nancy and Peggy and Cook are going to deal with the Great Aunt and do every single thing she likes. It’s the velvet glove instead of the iron hand.”
“The trouble with Nancy’s velvet glove is that it’s usually got a knuckleduster inside it. And you never know who’s going to get hit. When Miss Turner finds out about this, it won’t be only Nancy who gets into trouble. It’ll be you and me and Cook at Beckfoot and the postman and everybody else who happens to get dragged in and Mrs. Blackett most of all.”
“What about those assays for Captain Flint?” asked Dick.
“Can’t do them at Beckfoot, that’s one thing.