Milly-Molly-Mandy’s Autumn Read online

  Contents

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and the Surprise Plant

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Cooks a Dinner

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and the Blacksmith’s Wedding

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and Guy Fawkes Day

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Helps to Thatch a Roof

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and the Surprise Plant

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was busy in her own little garden beside the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, planting radish seeds.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy’s father grew all sorts of vegetables in his big garden – potatoes and turnips and cabbages and peas, which Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty and Milly-Molly-Mandy ate every day for dinner. And he grew fruit too – gooseberries and raspberries and currants and apples, which Mother made into jams and puddings and pies for them all. But, somehow, nothing ever tasted quite so good as the things which grew in Milly-Molly-Mandy’s own little garden!

  There wasn’t much room in it, of course, so she could grow only small things, like radishes, or spring-onions, or lettuces, and mostly there wasn’t enough of them to give more than a tiny taste each to such a big family as Milly-Molly-Mandy’s. But every one enjoyed those tiny tastes extra specially much, so that they always seemed to be a real feast!

  Well, this time Milly-Molly-Mandy was planting quite a number of seeds, because she thought it would be nice to have enough radishes to give at least two each to Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty and perhaps to little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt, and, of course, Milly-Molly-Mandy her own self. (How many’s that?)

  She was just crumbling earth finely with her fingers to cover up the seeds, when who should come along the road but Mr Rudge the Blacksmith, looking very clean and tidy. (He was going for a walk with the young lady who helped Mrs Hubble in the Baker’s shop.)

  “Hullo, Mr Rudge,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, looking up at him over the hedge. “Hullo, there!” said Mr Rudge, looking down at her over the hedge. “What’s this I see – some one digging the garden with her nose?”

  “I don’t dig with my nose!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “I’m planting radish seeds, with my hands. But my nose tickled and – I rubbed it. Is it muddy?”

  “That’s all right,” said the Blacksmith. “I always notice things grow best for people who get muddy noses. Well, what’s it going to be this time?”

  “Radishes,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “A lot of them. For Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty. And some over – I hope.”

  “Bless my boots!” said the Blacksmith. “You’ve got a family to feed, no mistake. You ought to try growing something like – Now, wait a minute! I believe I’ve got an idea. Supposing I were to give you a plant; have you got any room for it?”

  “What sort of a plant?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy with interest.

  “It’s some I’m growing myself, and I’ve got one to spare. I don’t believe your dad’s got any, so you’d have it all to yourself.”

  “Is it something you can eat?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Rather! – puddings, pies, what-not,” said the Blacksmith.

  “Enough for Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Yes, and you too.”

  “Could it go in there?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy excitedly, pointing to a space beside the radish seeds. “There’s nothing in there yet. How big is the plant?”

  “Oh, about so big,” said the Blacksmith, holding his hands five or six inches apart. “It’ll want a good rich soil. Got any rotten grass-cuttings?”

  “Father has, I think,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “he puts it in a heap over there to rot.”

  “Well, you ask him to let you have some, quite a nice lot, and put it on the earth there, and I’ll bring you along the plant to-morrow. It’s a surprise plant – you stick it in and see what’ll happen.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr Rudge,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, wondering whatever it could be.

  Mr Rudge the Blacksmith went on down the road with the young lady (who had been patiently waiting all this time), and Milly-Molly-Mandy ran to ask Father if she could have some of the rotten grass-cuttings. He brought her some spadefuls (it was all brown and messy and didn’t look the least bit like grass, but he said it was just how plants liked it), and she dug it into the space beside the radish seeds and hoped Mr Rudge wouldn’t forget about the Surprise Plant.

  And Mr Rudge didn’t.

  The very next evening, when he’d done banging horse-shoes on his anvil with a great big hammer, he took off his leather apron and shut up his forge; and presently Milly-Molly-Mandy, who was looking out for him, saw him coming along up the road. He’d got the plant with its roots in a lump of earth wrapped in thick paper in his pocket.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy helped him to take it out very carefully. And then he helped Milly-Molly-Mandy to plant it in the space beside the radish seeds.

  And there it stood, looking rather important all by itself (because, of course, the radishes weren’t up yet).

  “It’ll want a lot of water, mind,” said the Blacksmith, as he went out of the gate back to his supper, which he said was waiting for him. So Milly-Molly-Mandy said yes, good-bye, and thank you, and then she went and told Father about it.

  Father came and looked at the plant very carefully (it had two rough scratchy leaves and two smooth seed-leaves). And Father said, “A Surprise Plant, is it? Well, well!”

  Then Mother came out and she looked at the plant, and she said, “Isn’t it a marrow?”

  But Milly-Molly-Mandy was quite sure it wasn’t a marrow because Mr Rudge had said that Father hadn’t got any like this in his garden, and Father had lots of marrows.

  Well, the Surprise Plant soon felt at home, and it began to GROW.

  The radishes started to come up, but the Surprise Plant came faster. It spread out branches along the earth, with tendrils which curled round any stalk or twig they met and held fast. Soon it covered all the radishes with its great green scratchy leaves, and filled up all Milly-Molly-Mandy’s little garden.

  Then it began to open big yellow flowers here and there, so that Milly-Molly-Mandy called out, “Oh, come quick and look at my Surprise Flowers!” and Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty came to look.

  Father said, “Well, it seems to be getting on all right!”

  And Mother said, “Surely it’s a marrow!”

  And Grandpa said, “No, ’tisn’t a marrow.”

  And Grandma said, “It’s got much the same sort of flower as a marrow.”

  And Uncle said, “You’ll soon see what it is!”

  And Aunty said, “Whatever it is, it looks as if Milly-Molly-Mandy will be giving us a good big taste this time!”

  But Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “I don’t see what there is to eat here – and there won’t be any radishes now, because they’re all hidden up in leaves.”

  After a while Milly-Molly-Mandy noticed that one of the flowers had a sort of round yellow ball below the petals, just where the stalk joins on; and as the flower faded the ball began to grow bigger.

  She brought Mother to look at it.

  Mother said at once, “Why! I know what it is now!”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “What?”

  And Mother said, “Of course! It’s a pumpkin!”

  “Oh-h-h!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  Fancy! – a real pumpkin, like what Cinderella went to the ball in drawn by mice, growing in Milly-Molly-Mandy’s own little garden!

  “Oh-h!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy again.

  She didn’t mind now if the radishes were spoiled – but a
nyhow enough came up to give one little red one each to Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty and a weeny one for Milly-Molly-Mandy herself (and how many’s that?) – for just think! soon she would be able to go out into her very own little garden and cut a great big pumpkin for them!

  Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty began to say, “How’s your coach getting on, Cinderella?” when they met her; and Uncle pretended he’d just seen a mouse running that way to gallop off with it to the ball!

  It was a lovely hot summer, which was just what the pumpkin liked (as well as Milly-Molly-Mandy), and it grew and it grew. And do you know, other little pumpkin-balls grew under other flowers too, and two of them grew so big that Father gave Milly-Molly-Mandy some straw to put on the ground underneath, for them to rest on. But the first pumpkin grew biggest.

  When Mr Rudge the Blacksmith passed along that way he always stopped to look over the hedge, and he said her pumpkin was bigger than any of his own!

  Well, September came, and corn was cut, and apples were picked, and the yearly Harvest Festival was to be held in the Village Church. Grown-ups sent in their gifts the day before, to decorate the Church, but the children were to have a special Service in the afternoon, and bring their own offerings then.

  Father sent in a big marrow and some of his best pears. Mother sent some pots of jam. Grandpa sent a large bunch of late roses. Grandma sent a little cream-cheese. Uncle sent a basket of nice brown eggs. Aunty sent some bunches of lavender.

  And what do you suppose Milly-Molly-Mandy took to the Children’s Service?

  Well, first she looked at her pumpkins, the great big one and the second-best one. And then she said to Mother, “Mother, what is a Harvest Festival for? – why do you send fruit and things to Church?”

  Mother said, “It’s to say ‘thank you’ to God for giving us such a lot of good things.”

  “But what becomes of them, those apples, and the jam?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Vicar sends them to the Cottage Hospital generally, so the people there can enjoy them.”

  “Does God like that, when they’re given to Him?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Yes,” said Mother. “He takes the giving part, the being thankful part, and the rest Vicar sends to people who need it most, so it’s a double giving.”

  “Well, I’m very thankful indeed for lots of things!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “So hadn’t I better give my pumpkin? We could eat the second-best one and the other little ones ourselves, couldn’t we?”

  So on the Sunday afternoon they all walked across the fields to Church, in their best clothes, Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty and Milly-Molly-Mandy – AND the pumpkin. She had cut through its stalk herself with a big knife (Father helping), and cleaned it carefully with a damp cloth (Mother helping), and it was so big and heavy that Father had to carry it for her till they came to the Church.

  There was quite a number of children carrying things in: little-friend-Susan had a bunch of flowers from her garden, marigolds and Michaelmas-daisies, and nasturtiums, and Billy Blunt brought a basket of little yellow apples which grew by their back fence.

  On Sunday afternoon they all walked to Church

  Milly-Molly-Mandy sat in a pew, next to Mother, looking over the big pumpkin in her lap till the time came to give it up.

  And then all the children walked in a line to the front of the Church, and Vicar took their gifts one after another and laid them out on a table.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy was so pleased to have such a beautiful pumpkin to give that when she had got rid of the big burden she ran hoppity-skip back up the aisle, forgetting she was in Church till she saw Mother’s face smiling but making a silent “Ssh!” to her. And then she slid quietly into her seat, and sat admiring the things decorating the Church – the bunches of corn, and fancy loaves of bread (she guessed Mrs Hubble the Baker had sent those), the baskets of fruit and vegetables and flowers and eggs, and pots of preserves with the sun shining through them.

  And the pumpkin lay, smooth and round and yellow, among the other things which the children had brought. (But somehow it didn’t look quite so awfully big and important there in Church as it had done at home!)

  When the service was over everybody went home. And at tea-time Mother said, “This week I ought to make some more jam. I was thinking how very nice it would be if we could have pumpkin-and-ginger jam this year, as a change from marrow-and-ginger!”

  Then they all looked hopefully at Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy said at once, “Yes! It would! Shall I go and cut my second-best pumpkin now? And the other little pumpkins?”

  So that week Mother made lots of pots of pumpkin-and-ginger jam, Milly-Molly-Mandy helping. And on Saturday Mother let her ask little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt to tea, and they all had pumpkin-and-ginger jam on their bread-and-butter (as well as chocolate cake and currant buns).

  And Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt and her own self all thought it was the very best jam they had ever tasted.

  And the next time she saw Mr Rudge the Blacksmith, Milly-Molly-Mandy gave him a little pot of pumpkin jam all to himself, to say thank-you-for-giving-me-the-Surprise-Plant.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Cooks a Dinner

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was coming home after morning school with little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt.

  They were all talking about what they might be going to have for their dinners (feeling very hungry at that time, of course), and about the sort of things they liked and the sort of things they didn’t like.

  Billy Blunt said he didn’t like turnips or parsnips, and little-friend-Susan said she didn’t like potatoes or carrots. Milly-Molly-Mandy said what she didn’t like was stew, with bits of meat and vegetables floating in it. And Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan agreed that that was just what they didn’t like either. They all hoped none of them would have stew for dinner that day!

  (They needn’t have worried, for none of them did.)

  The next day was Saturday, and there was no school. So Milly-Molly-Mandy stayed around the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, helping Father in the garden.

  Father was very busy, digging up potatoes and cutting down dead plants and burning rubbish on a big bonfire. So Milly-Molly-Mandy was very busy too, sweeping up leaves and picking up tools which Father dropped and throwing bits on to the bonfire.

  (Autumn is a very busy time in a garden.)

  Presently little-friend-Susan came wandering up the road, wondering what Milly-Molly-Mandy was doing. She saw the smoke, so she peeped over the hedge outside the nice white cottage with the thatched roof.

  “Hullo, Susan!” called Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Look at our bonfire! You’d better come and help me to help Father!”

  So little-friend-Susan ran in at the gate and round to the back garden. And soon the two of them were very busy, throwing bits on to the bonfire.

  Presently Billy Blunt came wandering up the road, wondering (rather) what Milly-Molly-Mandy was doing. He saw the smoke too, and looked over the hedge outside the nice white cottage with the thatched roof.

  “Hullo, Billy!” called Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Look, it’s a bonfire! Come and help us to help Father!”

  So Billy Blunt walked in at the gate and round to the back garden. And soon all three of them were very busy throwing bits on to the bonfire.

  (But somehow, Father thought, three people together weren’t half so helpful as one person alone!)

  The bonfire puffed big, beautiful clouds of smoke out, and, whichever side they stood it seemed trying to puff right into their faces. Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt had to keep running round to one side or another as they threw on bits of twig and dead leaves.

  “Tell you what,” said Billy Blunt, after a while, “if we had some chestnuts we could roast them.”

  But they
hadn’t any chestnuts so they couldn’t.

  “I wonder what else there is we could cook,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, looking about.

  And then she noticed a heap of straggly old bean-plants waiting to be burned, and they had a few big bean-pods still hanging on here and there.

  “Oh look!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy; “perfectly good beans!”

  “Can’t we cook them?” said little-friend-Susan.

  “You can’t eat those,” said Billy Blunt. “Too old.”

  “Maybe you can’t eat them at table,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “but if we cook them ourselves on the bonfire maybe we could!”

  So they all searched for bean-pods and opened them, and they got quite a handful of lovely big purple-speckled beans.

  “What do we cook them in?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “They’ll need a lot of boiling,” said little-friend-Susan.

  “You want a tin can, like tramps have!” said Billy Blunt.

  That was a bright idea. So Milly-Molly-Mandy ran indoors to ask Mother, and Mother gave her an empty treacle-tin with a lid. They washed it well under the pump, and put the beans in with some clean water, and set it on the bonfire to boil. They had to watch it, because when the fire blazed up the tin fell over, and Billy Blunt had to rescue it with the gardening-fork. It boiled till the lid blew off. And then Billy Blunt (who was beginning to feel hungry) said:

  “I should think they’re done now.”

  So they emptied the tin out on to the ground and divided the beans. They were quite soft inside, so they peeled the skins off, and ate them rather like chestnuts. They did enjoy them!

  When Father came along with another load of weeds and brambles to put on the bonfire and saw what they were doing, he said:

  “Ah, if you want real gipsy cooking there’s nothing to beat a good hot potato, baked in its jacket!” And he pointed to the wheelbarrow full of newly dug potatoes, and added, “Help yourselves – only don’t waste them.”