The Fantastical World of Magical Beasts. Andrew LangЧитать онлайн книгу.
others tried to feel sure of this, too, but it was hard.
No one could be expected to feel very kindly towards the cook, since it was entirely through her making such a fuss about a little foreign mud that the carpet had been taken away.
‘She might have told us,’ said Jane, ‘and Panther and I would have cleaned it with tea-leaves.’
‘She’s a cantankerous cat,’ said Robert.
‘I shan’t say what I think about her,’ said Anthea, primly, ‘because it would be evil speaking, lying, and slandering.’
‘It’s not lying to say she’s a disagreeable pig, and a beastly blue-nosed Bozwoz,’ said Cyril, who had read The Eyes of Light, and intended to talk like Tony as soon as he could teach Robert to talk like Paul.
And all the children, even Anthea, agreed that even if she wasn’t a blue-nosed Bozwoz, they wished cook had never been born.
But I ask you to believe that they didn’t do all the things on purpose which so annoyed the cook during the following week, though I daresay the things would not have happened if the cook had been a favourite.
This is a mystery. Explain it if you can.
The things that had happened were as follows:
Sunday. – Discovery of foreign mud on both sides of the carpet.
Monday. – Licorice put on to boil with aniseed balls in a saucepan. Anthea did this, because she thought it would be good for the Lamb’s cough. The whole thing forgotten, and bottom of saucepan burned out. It was the little saucepan lined with white that was kept for the baby’s milk.
Tuesday. – A dead mouse found in pantry. Fish-slice taken to dig grave with. By regrettable accident fish-slice broken. Defence: ‘The cook oughtn’ to keep dead mice in pantries.’
Wednesday. – Chopped suet left on kitchen table. Robert added chopped soap, but he says he thought the suet was soap too.
Thursday. – Broke the kitchen window by falling against it during a perfectly fair game of bandits in the area.
Friday. – Stopped up grating of kitchen sink with putty and filled sink with water to make a lake to sail paper boats in. Went away and left the tap running. Kitchen hearthrug and cook’s shoes ruined.
On Saturday the carpet was restored. There had been plenty of time during the week to decide where it should be asked to go when they did get it back.
Mother had gone over to granny’s, and had not taken the Lamb because he had a bad cough, which, cook repeatedly said, was whooping-cough as sure as eggs is eggs.
‘But we’ll take him out, a ducky darling,’ said Anthea. ‘We’ll take him somewhere where you can’t have whooping-cough. Don’t be so silly, Robert. If he does talk about it no one’ll take any notice. He’s always talking about things he’s never seen.’
So they dressed the Lamb and themselves in out-of-doors clothes, and the Lamb chuckled and coughed, and laughed and coughed again, poor dear, and all the chairs and tables were moved off the carpet by the boys, while Jane nursed the Lamb, and Anthea rushed through the house in one last wild hunt for the missing Phoenix.
‘It’s no use waiting for it,’ she said, reappearing breathless in the breakfast-room. ‘But I know it hasn’t deserted us. It’s a bird of its word.’
‘Quite so,’ said the gentle voice of the Phoenix from beneath the table.
Everyone fell on its knees and looked up, and there was the Phoenix perched on a crossbar of wood that ran across under the table, and had once supported a drawer, in the happy days before the drawer had been used as a boat, and its bottom unfortunately trodden out by Raggett’s Really Reliable School Boots on the feet of Robert.
‘I’ve been here all the time,’ said the Phoenix, yawning politely behind its claw. ‘If you wanted me you should have recited the ode of invocation; it’s seven thousand lines long, and written in very pure and beautiful Greek.’
‘Couldn’t you tell it us in English?’ asked Anthea.
‘It’s rather long, isn’t it?’ said Jane, jumping the Lamb on her knee.
‘Couldn’t you make a short English version, like Tate and Brady?’
‘Oh, come along, do,’ said Robert, holding out his hand. ‘Come along, good old Phoenix.’
‘Good old beautiful Phoenix,’ it corrected shyly.
‘Good old beautiful Phoenix, then. Come along, come along, said Robert, impatiently, with his hand still held out.
The Phoenix fluttered at once on to his wrist.
‘This amiable youth,’ it said to the others, ‘has miraculously been able to put the whole meaning of the seven thousand lines of Greek invocation into one English hexameter – a little misplaced some of the words – but—’
‘Oh, come along, come along, good old beautiful Phoenix!’
‘Not perfect, I admit – but not bad for a boy of his age.’
‘Well, now then,’ said Robert, stepping back on to the carpet with the golden Phoenix on his wrist.
‘You look like the king’s falconer,’ said Jane, sitting down on the carpet with the baby on her lap.
Robert tried to go on looking like it. Cyril and Anthea stood on the carpet.
‘We shall have to get back before dinner,’ said Cyril, ‘or cook will blow the gaff.’
‘She hasn’t sneaked since Sunday,’ said Anthea.
‘She—’ Robert was beginning, when the door burst open and the cook, fierce and furious, came in like a whirlwind and stood on the corner of the carpet, with a broken basin in one hand and a threat in the other, which was clenched.
‘Look ’ere!’ she cried, ‘my only basin; and what the powers am I to make the beefsteak and kidney pudding in that your ma ordered for your dinners? You don’t deserve no dinners, so yer don’t.’
‘I’m awfully sorry, cook,’ said Anthea gently; ‘it was my fault, and I forgot to tell you about it. It got broken when we were telling our fortunes with melted lead, you know, and I meant to tell you.’
‘Meant to tell me,’ replied the cook; she was red with anger, and really I don’t Wonder – ‘meant to tell! Well, I mean to tell, too. I’ve held my tongue this week through, because the missus she said to me quiet like, “We mustn’t expect old heads on young shoulders,” but now I shan’t hold it no longer. There was the soap you put in our pudding, and me and Eliza never so much as breathed it to your ma – though well we might – and the saucepan, and the fish-slice, and – My gracious cats alive! what ’ave you got that blessed child dressed up in his outdoors for?’
‘We aren’t going to take him out,’ said Anthea; ‘at least—’ She stopped short, for though they weren’t going to take him out in the Kentish Town Road, they certainly intended to take him elsewhere. But not at all where cook meant when she said ‘out’. This confused the truthful Anthea.
‘Out!’ said the cook, ‘that I’ll take care you don’t;’ and she snatched the Lamb from the lap of Jane, while Anthea and Robert caught her by the skirts and apron.
‘Look here,’ said Cyril, in stern desperation, ‘will you go away, and make your pudding in a pie-dish, or a flower-pot, or a hot-water can, or something?’
‘Not me,’ said the cook, briefly; ‘and leave this precious poppet for you to give his deathercold to.’
‘I warn you,’ said Cyril, solemnly. ‘Beware, ere yet it be too late.’