Milly-Molly-Mandy Again Read online

  When the train stopped at last they got out, and everything looked quite different all round. They were by the sea, and the train was a house. One of the seats was a table, and they laid Billy Blunt’s damp handkerchief on it as a tablecloth, and put a rusty tin filled with buttercups in the middle.

  But after a while Billy Blunt began to feel hungry, and then, of course, they knew it must be time to think of going home. So at last they shut the door of their wonderful train-house, and planned to meet there again as early as possible the next day.

  And then they jumped back over the brook, and Billy Blunt went one way across the field, to his home by the corn-shop; and Milly-Molly-Mandy went the other way across the field, to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, where she found Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty just ready to sit down to table.

  The next day Milly-Molly-Mandy hurried to get all her jobs done – helping to wash up the breakfast things, and make the beds, and do the dusting. And as soon as she was free to play she ran straight out and down to the brook.

  Billy Blunt was just coming across the field from the village, so she waited for him, and together they crossed over the brook, planning where they would go for their travels today.

  “There it is!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, almost as if she had expected the train to have run away in the night.

  And then she stopped. And Billy Blunt stopped too.

  There was a man with a cap on, sitting on the roof of the train, fixing up a sort of chimney. And there was a woman with an apron on, sweeping dust out of one of the doorways. And there was a baby in a shabby old pram near by, squealing. And there was a little dog, guarding a hand-cart piled with boxes and bundles, who barked when he saw Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt.

  “They’ve got our train!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, staring.

  “’Spect it’s their train, really,” said Billy Blunt.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy edged a little nearer and spoke to the little dog, who got under the cart and barked again (but he wagged his tail at the same time). The woman in the apron looked up and saw them.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Good morning. Is this your train?”

  “Yes, it is,” said the woman, knocking dust out of the broom.

  “Are you going to live in it?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Yes, we are,” said the woman. “Bought and paid for it, we did, and got it towed here, and it’s going to be our home now.”

  “Is this your baby?” asked Billy Blunt, jiggling the pram gently. The baby stopped crying and stared up at him. “What’s its name?”

  The woman smiled then. “His name is Thomas Thomas, like his father’s,” she said. “So it don’t matter whether you call either of ’em by surname or given-name, it’s all one.”

  Just then the man on the roof dropped his hammer down into the grass, and called out. “Here, mate, just chuck that up, will you?”

  So Billy Blunt threw the hammer up, and the man caught it and went on fixing the chimney, while Billy Blunt watched and handed up other things as they were wanted. And the man told him that this end of the carriage was going to be the kitchen (just as Milly-Molly-Mandy had planned!), and the wall between it and the next compartment was to be taken away so as to make it bigger. The other end was the bedroom, with the long seats for beds.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy stayed jiggling the pram to keep the baby quiet, and making friends with the little dog. And the woman told her she had got some stuff for window-curtains in the hand-cart there; and that they planned to make a bit of a garden round, to grow potatoes and cabbages in, so the house would soon look more proper. She said her husband was a tinker, and he hoped to get work mending pots and kettles in the villages near, instead of tramping about the country looking for it, as they had been doing.

  She asked Milly-Molly-Mandy if she didn’t think the baby would have quite a nice home, after a bit? And Milly-Molly-Mandy said she DID!

  Presently the woman brought out from the hand-cart a frying-pan, and a newspaper parcel of sausages, and a kettle (which Milly-Molly-Mandy filled for her at the brook). So then Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt knew it was time to be going.

  They said goodbye to the man and woman, and stroked the little dog. (The baby was asleep.) And as they were crossing back over the brook the man called after them:

  “If you’ve got any pots, pans, and kettles to mend, you know where to come to find Thomas Tinker!”

  So after that Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt were always on the look-out for anyone who had a saucepan, frying-pan, or kettle which leaked or had a loose handle, and offered at once to take it to Thomas Tinker’s to be mended. And people were very pleased, because Thomas Tinker mended small things quicker than Mr Rudge the Blacksmith did, not being so busy making horse-shoes and mending ploughs and big things. Thomas Tinker and his wife were very grateful to Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt.

  But as Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “If we can get them plenty of work then they can go on living here. And if we can’t have that train for ourselves I like next best for Mr Tinker and Mrs Tinker and Baby Tinker to have it – don’t you, Billy?”

  And Billy Blunt did.

  3

  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 everyone 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 – someone 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 tomorrow. 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, goodbye, 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 anyhow 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 c
ame 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.