Milly-Molly-Mandy’s Autumn Read online

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt were pleased! They helped themselves to two potatoes each, and Father showed how to bury them in the hot ashes under the bonfire.

  “You’ll have to leave them for a good half-hour and more,” he said, as he went off.

  It seemed an awfully long time to wait. They were all feeling very hungry by now.

  “Tell you what,” said Billy Blunt, “we ought to get some salt and butter to eat with those potatoes when they’re done.”

  “Oo, yes!” said little-friend-Susan, “we ought.”

  “Let’s ask Mother,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  So they went into the kitchen, where Mother was putting a pie into the oven and Aunty was laying the table.

  “Please,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “could we have just a bit of butter and salt to eat with our baked potatoes out there?”

  “Goodness me!” said Mother. “Whatever next?”

  “They’ll spoil their dinners next,” said Aunty.

  “Oh, we won’t – truly – we’re so dreadfully hungry!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  And little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt said: “Yes, we are!”

  “But dinner will be ready in half an hour,” said Mother.

  “Oh, dear – so will our potatoes be!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “They’re cooking under the bonfire,” said little-friend-Susan.

  “We’re not to waste them,” said Billy Blunt.

  Then Milly-Molly-Mandy had a bright idea.

  “Mother, couldn’t you let us cook our own dinners all by ourselves out on the bonfire, just for once? It would be such fun! Please! Couldn’t we, Mother?”

  “Yes!” said little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt.

  “But what would your mothers say if you don’t go home to a proper dinner?” Mother asked them.

  “We could go and ask,” said little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt at once.

  “Well,” said Mother, “if Mrs Moggs and Mrs Blunt don’t object I suppose you may, just this once.”

  So little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt rushed off to ask permission while Milly-Molly-Mandy borrowed a saucepan (one that didn’t matter very much), and some old cooking-plates and spoons, and some bread, and salt, and butter (margarine really).

  Mother gave her some scraps of meat, and told her to help herself to whichever vegetables she wanted from the box in the scullery. So Milly-Molly-Mandy helped herself to some of everything – onions, carrots, parsnips – and carried all outside in readiness.

  Very soon little-friend-Susan came running back, saying her mother didn’t mind if Milly-Molly-Mandy’s mother didn’t. And she brought a strip of bacon in a paper.

  Then Billy Blunt came panting back (he had farther to go), saying his mother made no objection if he chose to miss a proper dinner this once. And he brought a sausage on an old fork.

  Father had made the bonfire burn up till it was mostly just a heap of red-hot ashes now. Then he went indoors to have his dinner. And the three of them stayed outdoors, and got to work cooking their own.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy cut up vegetables into the saucepan, with scraps of meat and some water, and set it on top of the fire to boil. Little-friend-Susan toasted bacon on a stick. And Billy Blunt toasted sausage on a fork.

  Then they remembered the potatoes, and Milly-Molly-Mandy started poking about in the ashes. Little-friend-Susan was so busy watching her that she let her bacon catch fire; and Billy Blunt was so busy grinning to see her blowing it out that he didn’t notice his own sausage burning until the others shouted at him! After a good scraping the bit of bacon and the sausage were added to the stew to finish cooking while the potatoes were got out.

  “Aren’t they beautifully done!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, brushing their skins on the grass.

  “Aren’t they hot!” said little-friend-Susan, sucking her fingers.

  “Let’s begin!” said Billy Blunt.

  So, as they were all frightfully hungry by now and the stew wasn’t quite done, they each took a hot baked potato in their hands and broke it open, and put in a dab of butter and a pinch of salt, and ate it out of its skin – like that, standing round the bonfire.

  And, my! you never tasted anything so good as those potatoes!

  “It’s made me hungrier than ever,” said Billy Blunt, when he had eaten his two.

  So then they couldn’t wait any longer. They took the saucepan off the fire and spooned stew out on to the plates. It tasted rather of bonfire smoke, and they had forgotten the salt, and the vegetables were a bit hard.

  But, my! you never tasted anything so good as that stew!

  And, as Billy Blunt said, “It’s good for your teeth to bite up well. Too much soft food’s bad.”

  So they all bit up very well indeed, dividing everything equally down to the last scrap.

  They each took a hot baked potato

  One thing is very certain, Grandma would have said that “Mr Manners’ didn’t get much of a look-in at that meal. (But then, you couldn’t expect to find “Mr Manners’ anywhere around in so much bonfire smoke!)

  “Well,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy at last, “we can’t say we don’t like stew, or carrots, or potatoes, or parsnips now!”

  “Ah,” said Billy Blunt, “but we never have stew like this at home!”

  “I wish,” said little-friend-Susan, “we could always cook our dinners ourselves. It would save a lot of washing up, too.”

  Just then Mother looked out of the back door.

  “What about finishing up this treacletart, though you haven’t cooked it yourselves?” she called.

  Well, of course, you couldn’t say no to Mother’s treacle-tart. So they managed to find enough room, but only just! Then, sticky, greasy, smoky, and very comfortable inside, they carried their things indoors to be washed up.

  But – do you know! – there seemed to be more washing up to be done than they had supposed. For, besides their plates and spoons and the saucepan, there were – Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt!

  (And they took a good deal of washing up, I can tell you!)

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and the Blacksmith’s Wedding

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was going to a wedding.

  It wasn’t just the ordinary sort of wedding, where you stared through the churchyard railings, wondering at ladies walking outdoors in their party clothes and who the man in the tight collar was.

  This was a very important wedding indeed.

  Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was marrying the young lady who helped in Mrs Hubble the Baker’s shop. AND (which Milly-Molly-Mandy thought the most important part) there were to be two bridesmaids. And the bridesmaids were Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy was sorry that Billy Blunt couldn’t be a bridesmaid too, but Billy Blunt said he didn’t care because he thought the most important part came later.

  In the Village, in olden days, when the blacksmith or any of his family got married, he used to “fire the anvil” outside his forge, with real gunpowder, to celebrate! That’s what Mr Rudge the Blacksmith said. He said his father had been married that way, and his uncle, and both his aunts, and his grandpa, and his great-grandpa a long time back. And that was how he meant to be married too, quite properly.

  Billy Blunt didn’t think many blacksmiths could be properly married, for he had never seen a blacksmith’s wedding before, nor even heard one, and neither had Milly-Molly-Mandy, nor little-friend-Susan.

  Anyhow, though he wasn’t a bridesmaid, Billy Blunt had a proper invitation to the wedding, like Mr and Mrs Blunt (Billy Blunt’s father and mother), and Mr and Mrs Moggs (little-friend-Susan’s father and mother), and Milly-Molly-Mandy’s Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty, and some other important friends. (For, of course, only important friends get proper invitations to weddings; the other sort have to peep through the railings or hang round by the lane.)

  Well, it was only a few days t
o the wedding now, and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt were coming home from afternoon school. And when they came to the corn-shop (where Billy Blunt lived) they could hear clink-clang noises coming from the Forge near by; so they all went round by the lane to have a look in. (For nobody can pass near a forge when things are going on without wanting to look in.)

  Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was mending a plough, which wasn’t quite so interesting to watch as shoeing a horse, but there was a nice piece of red-hot metal being hammered and bent to the right shape. The great iron hammer bounced off each time, as if it knew just how hot the metal was and didn’t want to stay there long, and the iron anvil rang so loudly at every bang and bounce that the Blacksmith couldn’t hear anyone speak. But presently he turned and buried the metal in his fire to heat it again, and the Blacksmith’s Boy began working the handle of the bellows up and down till the flames roared and sparks flew.

  It was just quiet enough then for Milly-Molly-Mandy to call out:

  “Hullo, Mr Rudge.”

  And Mr Rudge said, “Hullo, there! Been turned out of school again, have you? Go on, Reginald, push her up.”

  So the boy pushed harder at the handle, and the fire roared and the sparks flew.

  “Is that really his name?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “My name’s Tom,” said the boy, pumping away.

  “Can’t have two Toms here,” said the Blacksmith. “That’s my name. He’ll have to be content with Reginald. Now then, out of the way, there!”

  They all scattered in a hurry as the Blacksmith brought the piece of metal glowing hot out of the fire with his long-handled tongs, and laid it on the anvil again, and began to drill screw-holes in it. The drill seemed to go through the red-hot iron as easily as if it were cheese. As it cooled off and turned grey and hard again, the Blacksmith put it back into the fire. So then they could talk some more.

  “Where do you put the gunpowder when you fire the anvil?” asked Billy Blunt.

  “In that hole, there,” said the Blacksmith, pointing at his anvil.

  So Billy Blunt and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan bent over to see. And, sure enough, there was a small square hole in the top of the anvil. (You look at an anvil if you get the chance, and see.)

  “That won’t hold very much,” said little-friend-Susan, quite disappointed.

  “It’ll hold a famous big bang – you just wait,” said the Blacksmith. “You don’t want me to blow up all the lot of you, do you?”

  “Have you got the gunpowder ready?”asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “I have,” said Mr Rudge.

  “Where do you keep it?” asked little-friend-Susan, looking about.

  “Not just around here, I can tell you that much,” said Mr Rudge.

  “Where do you get gunpowder?” asked Billy Blunt.

  But the Blacksmith said he wasn’t giving away any secrets like that. And he brought the piece of metal out of the fire and started hammering again.

  When he had put it back into the fire Milly-Molly-Mandy said:

  “Aunty has nearly finished making our bridesmaids’ dresses, Mr Rudge.”

  “I should hope so!” said the Blacksmith. “How do you suppose I’m to be married next Saturday if you bridesmaids aren’t ready? Go on, Reginald, get a move on.”

  “They’re long dresses, almost down to our feet,” said little-friend-Susan. “But we’re to have a lot of tucks put in them afterwards, so that we can wear them for Sunday-best. And when we grow the tucks can be let out.”

  “That’s an idea,” said the Blacksmith. “I’ll ask for tucks to be put in my wedding suit, so that I can wear it for Sunday-best afterwards.”

  Whereupon the Blacksmith’s Boy burst out laughing so loudly, as he worked the bellows, that he made more noise than the other three all put together.

  The Blacksmith fished the red-hot metal from the fire, and plunged it for a second into a tank of water near by, and there was a great hissing and steaming, and a lot of queer smell.

  “What do you do that for?” asked Billy Blunt.

  “Tempers the iron,” said the Blacksmith, trying it against the plough to see if it fitted properly; “brisks it up, like when you have a cold bath on a hot day.”

  He laid it on the anvil, and took up a smaller hammer and began tapping away. So Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt thought perhaps it was time to go now, so they said good-bye and went off home to their teas.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan had another trying-on of their bridesmaids’ dresses after tea. And Aunty stitched and stitched away, so that they should be ready in time for the wedding.

  Well, the great day came. And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan, dressed alike in long pink dresses with bunches of roses in their hands, followed the young lady who helped Mrs Hubble the Baker up the aisle of the Church, to where Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was waiting.

  Mr Rudge looked so clean in his new navy blue suit with shiny white collar and cuffs and a big white button-hole, that Milly-Molly-Mandy hardly knew him (though she had seen him clean before, when he played cricket on the playing-field, or walked out with the young lady who helped Mrs Hubble the Baker).

  Then, when the marrying was done, Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan followed the Bride and Bridegroom down the aisle to the door, while everybody in the pews smiled and smiled, and Miss Bloss, who played the harmonium behind a red curtain, played so loudly and cheerfully, and Reginald the Blacksmith’s Boy who pumped the bellows for her (so he did a lot of pumping one way and another) pushed the handle up and down so vigorously, it’s a wonder they didn’t burst the harmonium between them. (But they didn’t often have a wedding to play for.)

  Then the two Bridesmaids, with the Bride and Bridegroom, of course, stood outside on the Church step to be photographed.

  Then everybody walked in a procession down the lane, past the Blacksmith’s house and past the Forge (which was closed), and up the road to the Inn, where a room had been hired for the wedding-breakfast (though it was early afternoon).

  And then everybody stood around eating and drinking and making jokes and laughing and making speeches and clapping and laughing a lot more.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little friend-Susan and Billy Blunt ate and laughed and clapped as much as anyone (though I’m not sure if Billy Blunt laughed as much as the others, as he was so busy “sampling” things).

  They had two ice-creams each (as Grandma and one or two others didn’t want theirs), and they had a big slice of wedding cake each, as well as helpings of nearly everything else, because Mr Rudge insisted on their having it, though their mothers said they’d had quite enough. (He was a very nice man!)

  They stood on the Church step to be photographed

  And THEN came the great moment when everybody came out of the Inn and went to the Forge to fire the anvil.

  Mr Rudge unlocked the big doors and fastened them back. And then he and Father and Uncle and Mr Blunt and Mr Smale the Grocer between them pulled and pushed the heavy anvil outside into the lane. (The anvil had been cleaned up specially, so it didn’t make their hands as dirty as you might think.)

  And then Mr Rudge put some black powder into the little square hole in the anvil (Billy Blunt didn’t see where he got it from). And the men-folk arranged a long piece of cord (which they called the fuse) from the hole down on to the ground. And then Mr Rudge took a box of matches from his pocket, and struck one, and set the end of the fuse alight.

  And then everybody ran back and made a big half-circle round the front of the Forge and waited.

  Mother and Mrs Moggs and Mrs Blunt wanted Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt to keep near them, and Mr Rudge kept by the young lady who used to help Mrs Hubble the Baker (but she wasn’t going to any more, as she was Mrs Rudge now, and Mr Rudge said she’d have her work cut out looking after him). She seemed very frightened and held her hands over her ears, so he kept his arm round h
er.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan put their hands half over their ears and hopped up and down excitedly. But Billy Blunt put his hands in his pockets and stood quite still. He said he didn’t want to waste any of the bang.

  The little flame crept along the fuse, nearer and nearer. And it began to creep up the anvil. And they all waited, breathless, for the big bang. They waited. And they waited.

  And they waited.

  “What’s the matter with the thing?” said Mr Rudge, taking his arm away from the young lady who was Mrs Rudge now. “Has the fuse gone out? Keep back, everybody, it isn’t safe yet.”

  So they waited some more. But still nothing happened.

  At last Mr Rudge walked over to the anvil, and so did the other men (though the women didn’t want them to).

  “Ha!” said Mr Rudge. “Fuse went out just as it reached the edge of the anvil. Now what’ll we do? It’s too short to re-light.”

  “I’ve got some string,” said Billy Blunt, and he rummaged in his breeches pocket.

  “Bring it here, and let’s have a look at it,” said Mr Rudge.

  So Billy Blunt went close and gave it to him (and took a good look into the hole at the same time).

  “Will that carry the flame, d’you think?” said Father.

  “Might do, if you give it a rub with a bit of candle-wax,” said Mr Smale the Grocer.

  “I think I’ve got a bit of wax,” said Billy Blunt, rummaging in his pocket again.

  “Hand it over,” said Mr Rudge. “What else have you got in there – a general store?”

  “It’s bees’-wax, not candle-wax, though,” said Billy Blunt.

  “It’s got a bit stuck,” said Billy Blunt, still rummaging.

  “You boys – whatever will you put in your pockets next?” said Mrs Blunt.

  “Better turn it inside out,” said Uncle.

  So Billy Blunt pulled his whole pocket outside. And there was a lot of things in it – marbles, and horse-chestnuts, and putty, and a pocket-knife, and a pencil holder, and a broken key, and a ha’penny, and several bus tickets, and some other things. And stuck half into the lining at the seam was a lump of bees’-wax, which they dug off with the pocket-knife.