Let’s go and live at the
Equator - it would be cool compared to this!’
He
stood leaning on his bicycle, out of breath with a long steep ride up a hill.
Dick grinned at him. ‘You’re out of training, Ju!’ he said. ‘Let’s sit down for
a bit and look at the view. We’re pretty high up!’
They
leaned their bicycles against a nearby gate and sat down, their backs against
the lower bars. Below them spread the
‘I’d
never have come on this biking trip if I’d guessed it was going to be as hot as
this!’ he said. ‘Good thing Anne didn’t come - she’d have given up the first
day.’
‘George
wouldn’t have minded,’ said Dick.  ‘Don’t forget old Timmy.
What a dog! Never knew one that had such a wet lick as Tim. I say - won’t it be
fun to meet them all! Don’t let’s forget the time, Julian. Hey, wake up, ass!
If we go to sleep now, we’ll not be in time to meet the girls’ bus.’
Julian
was almost asleep. Dick looked at him and laughed. Then he looked at his watch,
and did a little calculating. It was half past two.
‘Let’s
see now - Anne and George will be on the bus that stops at
He
felt his own eyes closing after a minute, and got up at once to walk about. The
two girls and Tim must be met, because they would have suitcases with them,
which the boys planned to wheel along on their bicycles.
The
Five were going to stay at a place called Finniston Farm, set on a hill above
the little
‘Hope
it’s a decent place!’ thought Dick, gazing down into the valley, where
corn-fields waved in the little breeze. ‘Anyway, we shall only be there for two
weeks - and it will be fun to be together again.’
He
looked at his watch. Time to go! He gave Julian a push. ‘Hey - wake up!’
‘’Nother
ten minutes,’ muttered Julian, trying to turn over, as if he were in bed. He
rolled against the gate-bars and fell on to the hard dry earth below. He sat up
in surprise. ‘Gosh - I thought I was in bed!’ he said. ‘My word, I could have
gone on sleeping for hours.’
‘Well,
it’s time to go and meet that bus,’ said Dick.  Come on, Julian - we
really must go!’
They
rode down the hill, going cautiously round the sharp corners, remembering how
many times they had met herds of cows, wide farm-carts, tractors and the like,
on their way through this great farming county. Ah - there was the village, at
the bottom of the hill. It looked old and peaceful and half-asleep.
‘Thank
goodness it sells ginger-beer and ice-creams!’ said Dick, seeing a small shop
with a big sign in the window. ‘I feel as if I want to hang out my tongue, like
Timmy does, I’m so thirsty!’
‘Let’s
find the church and the bus-stop,’ said Julian. ‘I saw a spire as we rode down
the hill, but it disappeared when we got near the bottom.’
‘There’s
the bus!’ said Dick, as he heard the noise of wheels rumbling along in the
distance. ‘Look, here it comes. We’ll follow it.’
‘There’s
Anne in it - and George, look!’ shouted Julian. ‘We’re here exactly on time!
Whoo-hoo, George!’
The
bus came to a stop by the old church, and out jumped Anne and George, each with
a suitcase - and out leapt old Timmy too, his tongue hanging down, very glad to
be out of the hot, jerky, smelly bus.
‘There
are the boys!’ shouted George, and waved wildly as the bus went off again.
‘Julian! Dick! I’m so glad you’re here to meet us!’
The
two boys rode up, and jumped off their bikes, while Timmy leapt round them,
barhng madly. They thumped the girls on their backs, and grinned at them. ‘Just
the same old couple!’ said Dick. ‘You’ve got a spot on your chin, George, and
why on earth have you tied your hair into a pony-tail, Anne?’
‘You’re
not very polite, Dick,’ said George, bumping him with her suitcase. ‘I can’t
think why Anne and I looked forward so much to seeing you again. Here, take my
suitcase - haven’t you any manners?’
‘Plenty,’
said Dick, and grabbed the case. ‘I just can’t get over Anne’s new hair-do. I
don’t like it, Anne - do you, Ju? Pony-tail! A donkey-tail would suit you
better Anne!’
‘It’s
all right - it’s just because the back of my neck was so hot,’ said Anne,
shaking her hair free in a hurry. She hated her brothers to find fault with
her. Julian gave her arm a squeeze.
‘Nice
to see you both,’ he said. ‘What about some ginger-beer and ice-cream? There’s
a shop over there that sells them.   He shook hands
with Julian too and then promptly went mad, careering about and almost knocking
over a small boy on a bicycle.
‘Come
on, Tim - want an ice-cream?’ said Dick, laying his hand on the big dog’s head.
‘Hark at him panting, George - I bet he wishes he could unzip his hairy coat
and take it off!
They
all trooped into the ice-cream shop. It was half dairy, half baker’s. A small
girl of about ten came to serve them.
‘Mum’s
lying down,’ she said. ‘What can I get you? Ice-creams, I suppose? That’s what
everyone wants today.’
‘You
supposed right,’ said Julian. ‘A large one each, please - five in all - and
four bottles of ginger pop as well.’
‘Five
ice-creams - do you want one for that dog, then?’ said the girl in surprise,
looking at Timmy.
‘Woof,’
he said at once.
‘There
you are,’ said Dick, ‘he said yes!’
Soon
the Five were eating their cold ice-creams, Timmy licking his from a saucer.
Before he had had many licks, the ice-cream slid from the saucer, and Timmy
chased it all the way round the shop, as it slid away from his vigorous licks.
The little girl watched him, fascinated.
‘I
must apologize for his manners,’ said Julian, solemnly. ‘He hasn’t been very
well brought up.’ He at once had a glare from George, and grinned. He opened
his bottle of ginger-beer. ‘Nice and cold,’ he said.
‘Here’s
a happy fortnight to us all!’ He drank half the glass at top speed, and set it
down with a great sigh.
‘Well,
blessings on the person who invented ice-cream, ginger-pop and the rest!’ he
said. ‘I’d rather invent things like that any day than rockets and bombs, Ha -
I feel better now. What about you others? Do you feel like going to find the
farm?’
‘Whose
farm?’ asked the little girl, coming out from behind the counter to pick up
Timmy’s saucer.
‘Ooooh!’
she said, pushing him away. ‘He licked all down my face!’
‘Probably
thought you were an ice-cream,’ said Dick, giving her his hanky to wipe her
cheek. ‘The farm we want is called Finniston Farm. Do you know it?’
‘Oh
yes,’ said the little girl. ‘You go down the village street, right to the end,
and turn up the lane there - up to the right. The farmhouse is at the top of
the lane. Are you staying with the Philpots?’
‘Yes.
Do you know them?’ asked Julian, getting out some money to pay the bill.
‘I
know the twins there,’ said the girl. ‘The two Harries. At least, I don’t know
them well - nobody does. They’re just wrapped up in each other, they never make
any friends.   And his voice - you can hear it for
miles! I was real scared of going near the farm when I was little. But Mrs
Philpot, she’s nice. You’ll like her. The twins are very good to her - and to
their Dad, too - work like farm-hands all the holidays. You won’t know t’other
from which, they’re so alike!’
‘Why
did you call them the two Harries?’ asked Anne, curiously.
‘Oh,
because they’ve both...’ began the child, and then broke off as a plump woman
came bustling into the shop.
‘Janie
- you go and see to the baby for me - I’ll see to the shop now. Run along!’
Away
went the small girl, scuttling through the door.
‘Little
gasbag she is!’ said her mother. ‘Anything more you want?’
‘No
thanks,’ said Julian, getting up. ‘We must go. We’re to stay at Finniston Farm,
so we may be seeing you again soon. We liked the ice-creams!’
‘Oh
- so you’re going there, are you?’ said the plump woman. ‘I wonder how you’ll
get on with the Harries!
The
Five went out into the hot sun again. Julian grinned round at the others. ‘Well
- shall we go and find the nice Mrs Philpot - the unfriendly Harries, whoever
they are - and the fearsome Great-Grand-dad? Sounds an interesting household,
doesn’t it?’
Chapter
Two
FINNISTON
FARM
The
four children, with Timmy trotting beside them, walked down the hot, dusty
village street until they came to the end, and then saw the lane turning off to
the right, just as the little girl had told them.
‘Wait
a minute,’ said Anne, stopping at a curious little shop at the end of the
village street.  Look at those
old horse-brasses - I’d like to get one or two of those. And just see those
lovely old prints!’
‘Oh
no - not now, Anne,’ said Julian, with a groan. ‘This awful sudden craze of
yours for second-hand shops has been going on too long! Horse-brasses! You’ve
got stacks of them already! If you think we’re going to go into that dark,
smelly little shop and...’
‘Oh,
I’m not going in now,’ said Anne, hurriedly. ‘But it does look rather exciting.
I’ll come by myself sometime and prowl round.’ She glanced at the name on the
shop front. ‘William Finniston - how funny to have the same name as the
village! I wonder if...’
‘Oh,
come on, Anne,’ said George impatiently, and Timmy tugged at her skirt. Anne
gave one backward glance at the fascinating little shop-window, and hurried
after the others, making up her mind to slip down to the shop one day when she
was alone.
They
all went up the little winding lane, where red poppy-heads jigged about in the
breeze, and after a while they came in sight of the farm-house. It was a big
one, three storey's high, with whitewashed walls, and the rather small windows
belonging to the age in which it was built. Old-fashioned red and white roses
rambled over the porch, and the old wooden door stood wide open.
The
Five stood on the scrubbed stone entrance, looking into the dim hall. An old
wooden chest stood there, and a carved chair. A rather threadbare rug lay on
the stone floor, and a grandfather clock ticked slowly and loudly.
Somewhere
a dog barked, and Timmy at once barked back. WOOF, WOOF!’
‘Be
quiet, Timmy,’ said George sharply, afraid that a horde of farm-dogs might come
rushing out. She looked for a bell or a knocker, but couldn’t see either. Then
Dick spotted a beautiful wrought-iron handle hanging down from the roof of the
porch. Could it be a bell?
He
pulled it, and at once a bell jangled very loudly somewhere in the depths of
the farm-house, making them all jump. They stood in silence, waiting for
someone to come. Then they heard footsteps and two children came up the
hallway.
They
were exactly alike! The most twinny twins I’ve ever seen! thought Anne, in
amazement. Julian smiled his friendliest smile. ‘Good afternoon - we’re the
Kirrins - I - er I hope you’re expecting us.’
The
twins stared at him without a smile. They nodded together. ‘Come this way,’
they both said, and marched back down the hall. The four stared at one another
in surprise.
‘Why
so stiff and haughty'’ whispered Dick, putting on a face exactly like the
twins. Anne giggled. They all followed the twins, who were dressed exactly
alike in navy shorts and navy shirts. They went right down the long hall,
passed a stairway, round a dark corner, and into an enormous kitchen, which was
obviously used as a sitting-room as well.
‘The
Kirrins, Mother!’ said the twins, together, and at once disappeared through
another door, shoulder to shoulder. The children found themselves facing a
pleasant-looking woman, standing by a table, her hands white with flour. She
smiled, and then gave a little laugh.
‘Oh,
my dears! I didn’t expect you quite so soon! Do forgive my not being able to
shake hands with you - but I was just making scones for your tea. I’m so
pleased to see you. Did you have a good journey here?’
It
was nice to hear her welcoming voice and see her wide smile. The Five warmed to
her at once. Julian put down the suitcase he was carrying and looked round the
room.
‘What
a lovely old place!’ he said. ‘You carry on with your scone-making, Mrs Philpot
- we’ll look after ourselves. Just tell us where to go. It’s nice of you to
have us.’
‘I’m
glad to,’ said Mrs Philpot.  I’ve some
other boarders too - an American and his son - so I’m pretty busy.’
‘Well,
you don’t need to bother too much about us,’ said Dick. ‘In fact, we’ll camp
out under a haystack, if you like - or in a barn. We’re used to roughing it!’
‘Well
- that might be a help,’ said Mrs Philpot, going on with her mixing. ‘I’ve a
bedroom that would do for the girls all right - but I’m afraid you boys would
have to share one with the American boy - and - er - well, you mightn’t like
him.’
‘Oh,
I expect we’ll get on all right,’ said Julian. ‘But my brother and I would
certainly prefer to be by ourselves, Mrs Philpot. What about putting up
camp-beds or something in a barn? We’d love that!’
Anne
looked at Mrs Philpot’s kind, tired face, and felt suddenly sorry for her. How
awful to have to have your home invaded by strangers, whether you liked them or
not! She went over to her.
‘You
tell Georgina and me anything you’d like us to do to help,’ she said. ‘You know
- making the beds, and dusting and things like that. We’re used to doing things
at home, and...’
‘I’m
going to enjoy having you!’ said Mrs Philpot, looking round at them all. ‘And
you won’t need to help very much. The twins do a great deal - too much, I
think, bless them - because they help on the farm too. Now, you go up the
stairs to the very top of the house, and you’ll see two bedrooms, one on each
side of the landing - the left-hand one is yours, girls - the other is where
the American boy is sleeping. And as for you two boys, you can slip out to the
barn, and see if you’d like a couple of camp-beds there. I’ll get the twins to
take you.’
The
twins came back at this minute, and stood silently shoulder to shoulder, as
alike as peas. George looked at them.
‘What’s
your name?’ she said to one twin.
‘Harry!’
was the answer. She turned to the other. ‘And what’s yours?’
‘Harry!’
‘But
surely you don’t both have the same name?’ exclaimed George.
‘Well,
you see,’ explained their mother, ‘we called the boy Henry, and he became
Harry, of course - and we called the girl Harriet, and she calls herself Harry
for short - so they’re known as the Harries.’
‘I
thought they were both boys!’ said Dick in amazement.  I often
don’t know one from the other myself.’
Dick
grinned. ‘Funny how some girls want to be boys!’ he said, with a sly glance at
George, who gave him a furious look.
‘Twins,
show the Kirrins up to the top bedroom,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘and then take the
boys out to the big barn. They can have the old camp-beds, if they like the
look of the barn.’
‘We
sleep out there,’ said the Harries, both together, and scowled just like
George.

‘I
say, look here - we don’t want to cause trouble,’ said Julian, feeling that the
twins were too unfriendly for words. ‘Can’t we sleep in the room off the
dairy?’
‘Certainly
not,’ said Mrs Philpot, and sent the Harries a warning glance. ‘There’s room
for you all in the big barn.
The
twins went to pick up the suitcases, still looking mutinous. Dick interposed
himself between them and the cases. ‘We’ll carry them,’ he said stiffly. ‘We
don’t want to be any more trouble to you than we can help.’
And
he and Julian picked up a suitcase each, and set off after the Harries, who
looked suddenly surprised. George followed with Timmy, more amused than cross.
Anne went to pick up a spoon that Mrs Philpot had dropped.
‘Thank
you, dear,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Look - don’t get upset by the twins. They’re a
funny pair - but good at heart. They just don’t like strangers in their home,
that’s all. Promise you won’t mind them? I do want you to be happy here.’
Anne
looked at the kindly, tired face of the woman beside her, and smiled. ‘We’ll
promise not to worry about the twins - if you’ll promise not to worry about
us!’ she said. ‘We can look after ourselves, you know - honestly, we’re used to
it. And please do tell us when you want anything done!’
She
went out of the room and up the stairs. The others were already in one of the
two bedrooms at the top of the house. It was a fairly big room, whitewashed,
with rather a small window and boarded floors. Julian looked at the boards he
was standing on. ‘I say! Look at the wood this floor’s made of - solid old oak,
worn white with the years! My word - this farm-house must be very old. And look
at the beams running across the walls and into the roof. Hey, twins, this is a
fine old house of yours!’
The
twins unbent enough to nod in time together. ‘Seems as if you two go by
clockwork - you speak the same words at the same time, you walk in time, you
nod your heads in time!’ said Dick. ‘But, I say - do you ever smile?’
The
twins looked at him with dislike. Anne nudged Dick. ‘Stop it, Dick! Don’t tease
them. Perhaps they’d show you the barn now. We’ll unpack some clean things
we’ve brought for you in our case, and come down with them when we’re ready.’
‘Right,’
said Dick, and he and Julian went out of the room. Opposite, with its door
open, was the other room, where the American boy slept. It was so very untidy
that Dick couldn’t help exclaiming, ‘Gosh - how does he get his room into all
that mess?’
He
and Julian went down the stairs, and Dick turnecl back to see if the Harries
were following. He saw them standing at the top, each shaking a furious fist at
the door of the American boy’s room.
Whew!
thought Dick. The Harries have got some sort of hate on there - let’s hope they
don’t get one for us, too. ‘Well - now for the barn,’ he said aloud. ‘Don’t go
so fast, Ju. Wait for the twins - they’re just falling over themselves to look
after us!’
Chapter
Three
OUT
IN THE BARN
The
twins stalked out of the farm-house and took the two boys round the dairy shed,
and up to an enormous barn. One of them pushed open the great door.
‘I
say!’ said Julian, gazing into the dark barn. ‘I never saw such a fine barn in
all my life! It’s as old as the hills - look at those beams soaring up into the
roof - it reminds me of a cathedral, somehow. I wonder why they built the roof
so high. What do you store in here, twins?’
‘Sacks
of meal,’ said the Harries together, opening and shutting their mouths as one.
The two boys saw a couple of camp-beds in a corner of the barn.

Before
the twins could answer, a shrill barking came from the direction of the
camp-beds, and the boys saw a tiny black poodle there, standing up, quivering
in every hair.
‘What
a tiny thing!’ said Julian. ‘Is he yours, twins? What’s his name?’
‘Snippet,’
came the answer from both at once. ‘Come here, Snippet!’
 He fawned on them all, barking in delight, licking everyone in turn. Dick
picked him up, but the twins at once clutched Snippet themselves.
‘He’s
OUR dog!’ they said, so fiercely that Dick backed away.
‘All
right, all right - you can have him. But be careful Tim doesn’t eat him!’ he
said. A look of fear came over the faces of the Harries, and they turned to one
another, anxiously.
‘It’s
all right,’ said Julian, hastily. ‘Tim’s gentle with small things. You needn’t
be afraid. I say - why do you have to be so dumb? It really wouldn’t hurt you
to be a bit friendly. And do let us sleep in your old room - we really don’t
mind.’
The
twins looked at each other again, as if reading one another’s thoughts, and
then they turned gravely to the boys, not looking quite so unfriendly.
‘We
will all sleep here,’ they said. ‘We will fetch the other camp-beds.’ And off
they marched, Snippet running excitedly at their heels.
Julian
scratched his head. ‘Those twins make me feel peculiar,’ he said. ‘I somehow
don’t feel they are quite real. The way they act and speak together makes me
feel as if they’re puppets or something.’
‘They’re
just jolly rude and unfriendly,’ said Dick, bluntly. ‘Oh well - they won’t get
in our way much. I vote we explore the farm tomorrow. It looks quite a big one
- spreading out over the hill-slopes everywhere. I wonder if we could get a
ride on a tractor?’
At
that moment a bell rang loudly from the direction of the house. ‘What’s that
for?’ said Dick. ‘Tea, I hope!’
The
twins came back at that moment with two more camp-beds, wkich they proceeded to
set up as far from their own as possible.
‘Tea
is ready,’ they said, standing up when the beds were finished, and blankets and
pillows set out on them. ‘We will show you where to wash.’
‘Thanks,’
said Dick and Julian together, and then grinned at one another. ‘Better be
careful,’ said Julian, ‘or we’ll catch their habit of speaking exactly at the
same moment. I say - isn’t that poodle an amusing little fellow - look at him
stalking that jackdaw!’
A
black jackdaw, the nape of his neck showing grey as he ran in front of Snippet,
had flown down from somewhere in the roof of the barn. As Snippet danced after
him he ran behind sacks, scurried into corners, and led the little dog such a
dance that the two boys roared. Even the twins smiled.
‘Chack!’
said the jackdaw, and rose into the air. He settled himself neatly on the
middle of the poodle’s back, and Snippet promptly went mad, and tore about the
barn at top speed.
‘Roll
over, Snippet!’ shouted the Harries, and Snippet at once flung himself on his
back - but the jackdaw, with a triumphant ‘chack’ rose at once into the air,
and alighted on one twin’s head.
‘I
say - is he tame?’ said Dick. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Nosey.
He’s ours. He fell down a chimney and broke his wing,’ said the twins. ‘So we
kept him till it was well and now he won’t leave us.’
‘Gosh!’
said Dick, starring at them. ‘Did you really say all that - or was it the
jackdaw? You can talk properly, after all.’
Nosey
pecked at the twin’s ear nearest to him, and the twin gave a yell. ‘Stop it,
Nosey!’ The jackdaw rose into the air, with a ‘chack-chack-chack’ that sounded
very like a laugh, and disappeared somehere in the roof.
Just
then the two girls came to find the boys in the barn, sent by Mrs Philpot, who
was sure they hadn’t heard the bell. Timmy was with them, of course, sniffing
into every corner, enjoying the farm-smells everywhere. They came to the barn
and looked in.
‘Oh,
there you are!’ called Anne. ‘Mrs Philpot said we...’
Timmy
began to bark, and she stopped. He had caught sight of Snippet sniffing behind
the sacks, still hunting for the cheeky jackdaw. He stood still and stared.
 He gave another
loud bark and shot over towards the poodle, who gave a tenified yelp and leapt
into the arms of one of the twins.
‘Take
your dog away,’ said both twins, fiercely, glaring at the four.
‘It’s
all right - he won’t hurt Snippet,’ said George, advancing on Timmy and taking
hold of his collar. ‘He really won’t.’
‘TAKE
YOUR DOG AWAY!’ shouted the twins, and up in the roof somewhere the jackdaw
said, ‘CHACK, CHACK, CHACK!’ just as fiercely.
‘All
right, all right,’ said George, glaring as angrily as the twins, ‘Come on, Tim.
That poodle wouldn’t be more than a mouthful for you, anyway!’
They
all went back to the farm-house in silence, Snippet having been left behind on
the camp-bed belonging to one of the twins. They cheered up when they came into
the big, cool kitchen. Tea was now laid on the farm-house table, a big solid
affair of old, old oak. Chairs were set round and it all looked very homelike.
‘Hot
scones,’ said George, lifting the lid off a dish. ‘I never thought I’d like hot
scones on a summer’s day, but these look heavenly. Running with butter! Just
how I like them!’
The
four looked at the home-made buns and biscuits and the great fruit cake. They
stared at the dishes of home-made jam, and the big plate of ripe plums. Then
they looked at Mrs Philpot, sitting behind a very big teapot, pouring out cups
of tea.
‘You
mustn’t spoil us, Mrs Philpot,’ said Julian, thinking that really his hostess
was doing too much. ‘Please don’t let us make too much work for you!’
A
loud, commanding voice suddenly made them all jump.
His eyes were startlingly bright as he looked across at them.
TOO
MUCH WORK! What’s that you say? TOO MUCH WORK? Ha, people nowadays don’t know
what work is, that they don’t! Grumble, grumble, GRUMBLE, asking for this and
expecting that! Pah! PAH, I say!’
‘Now
now, Grand-dad,’ said Mrs Philpot, gently. ‘You just sup your tea and rest.
You’ve been out on the farm all day, and it’s too much work for you.’
That
set the old man off again. TOO MUCH WORK! Now let me tell you something. When I
was a young lad, I... hallo, who’s this?’
It
was Timmy! He had been startled by the sudden shouting of the old man, and had
stood up, his hackles rising, and a low growl down in his throat. And then a
very curious thing happened.
Timmy
walked slowly over to the fierce old man, stood by him - and laid his head
gently on his knee! Everyone stared in astonishment, and George could hardly
believe her eyes!
At
first the old man took no notice. He just let Timmy stay there, and went on
with his shouting. ‘No one knows anything these days. They don’t know a good
sheep or a good bull or a good dog. They...’
Timmy
moved his head a little, and the old man stopped again. He looked down at
Timmy, and patted him on the head.  A dog that
could be the best friend any man ever had. Ah, he reminds me of my old True, he
does.’
George
was staring in amazement at Timmy. ‘He’s never done a thing like that before,’
she said.
‘All
dogs are like that with old Grand-dad,’ said Mrs Philpot softly. ‘Don’t mind
his shouting. He’s like that. See - your Timmy is lying down by Grand-dad - now
they’ll both be happy. Grand-dad will have his tea and be nice and quiet. Don’t
take any notice of him now.’
Still
astonished, the children ate a marvellous tea, and were soon talking eagerly to
Mrs Philpot, asking her questions about the farm.
‘Yes,
of course you can go on the tractor. And we’ve an old Land-Rover too - you can
motor round the farm in that, if you like. Wait till my husband comes in -
he’ll tell you what you can do.’
Nobody
saw a little black shadow come in at the door, and sidle softly over to
Grand-dad - Snippet the poodle! He had left the barn and come to the kitchen he
loved. It was only when Mrs Philpot turned round to ask the old man to have
another cup of tea that she saw a very strange sight indeed. She nudged the
twins, and they turned to look.
They
saw Timmy lying peacefully down on Grand-dad’s big feet - and Snippet the
poodle lying between Timmy’s great front paws! Well - what an astonishing
sight, to be sure!
‘Grand-dad’s
happy now,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Two dogs at his feet. And now, look - here’s my
husband! Come along in, Trevor - we’re all here, the dogs as well!’
Chapter
Four
JUNIOR!
A
big man came into the kitchen, very like the twins to look at. He stooped, and
seemed tired. He didn’t smile, but just nodded.
‘Trevor,
here are the visitors I told you about,’ said Mrs. Philpot. ‘Look, this is
Julian and...’
‘More
visitors?’ said Trevor, with a groan. ‘Good heavens - what a crowd of children!
Where’s that American boy? I’ve got a bone to pick with him. He tried to set
the tractor going by himself this morning, and...’
‘Oh
Trevor - never mind about that now. Just wash and come and have your tea,’ said
Mrs Philpot. ‘I’ve kept some of your favourite scones for you.’
‘Don’t
want any tea,’ said her husband. ‘Can’t stop - except for just one cup, and
that I’ll take into the dairy. I’ve got to go and see to the milking. Bob’s off
today.’
‘We’ll
help, Dad!’ said the twins, speaking together, as usual, and they got up from
the table at once.
 ‘You’ve been on the go from seven o’clock
this morning. Sit down and finish your tea in peace.’
‘I
could do with your help, twins,’ said their father, as he went through the door
towards the dairies, ‘but now your mother’s got so many on her hands, she’ll
need you more than I do!’
‘Mrs
Philpot - let the twins go if they want to,’ said Julian at once. ‘We can help,
you know - we’re used to helping at home.’
‘And
what’s more, we like it,’ said Anne. ‘Do let us, Mrs Philpot - we’ll feel much
more at home then. Can’t we clear away and wash up and all that, while the
twins go and help with the milking?’
‘YOU
LET ’EM HELP!’ shouted old Great-Grand-dad suddenly from his corner, making
Timmy and Snippet leap to their feet, startled. ‘WHAT ARE CHILDREN COMING TO
NOWADAYS, WAITED ON HAND AND FOOT? PAH!’
‘Now,
now, Grand-dad,’ said poor Mrs Philpot, ‘Don’t you start worrying. We can
manage fine.’
The
old man made a loud, explosive noise, and banged his hand down on the arm of
his chair. ‘WHAT I SAY IS THIS...’
But
he got no further, for the sound of footsteps could be heard in the hall,
coming towards the kitchen, and loud, American voices came nearer and nearer.
‘See
here, Pop - I wanna come with you! This is a dead-and-alive place. You take me
up to London with you, aw, Pop, go on, do!’
‘That
the Americans?’ asked Dick, turning to the twins. Their faces had gone as black
as thunder. They nodded.  The father stood at the
door and looked round, rubbing his hands.
‘Hiya,
folks! We’ve bin over to that swell old town, and picked up some fine souvenirs
- my, my, they were cheap as dirt! We late for tea? Hallo, who’re all these
folks?’
He
grinned round at Julian and the others. Julian stood up politely. ‘We’re four
cousins,’ he said. ‘We’ve come to stay here.’
‘Stay
here? Where you gonna sleep, then?’ demanded the boy, pulling up a chair to the
table. ‘This is a one-eyed place, ain’t it, Pop - no wash-basins, no...’
‘Shut
up,’ said the twins together, and gave the boy such a glare that Anne stared in
astonishment.
‘Aw,
go on, I can say what I like, can’t I?’ said the boy. ‘Free country, isn’t it?
Gee, you should just see America! That’s something! Mrs Philpot, I’ll have a
bit of that cake - looks good to me.’
‘CAN’T
YOU SAY PLEASE?’ roared a voice from the corner. That was Great-Grand-dad, of
course! But the boy took no notice, and merely held out his plate, while Mrs
Philpot cut him an enormous slice of cake.
‘I’ll
have the same as Junior, Mrs Philpot mam,’ said the American, and sat down at
the table. He held out his plate too. ‘Say, you should see the things we’ve
bought. We’ve had a day, haven’t we, Junior?’
‘Sure,
Pop,’ said Junior. ‘Say, can’t I have an iced drink? Look-a-here - who’s going
to drink hot tea on a day like this!’
‘I’ll
get you some iced orangeade,’ said Mrs Philpot, rising.
‘LET
HIM GET IT HIMSELF! LITTLE VARMINT!’ That was Great-Grand-dad again, of course.
But the twins were already up and on their way to fetch the orangeade
themselves. George caught sight of their faces as they passed her, and had a
shock of surprise. Goodness - how those twins hated that boy!
‘That
old Grand-daddy of yours must be a bit of a nuisance to you,’ said the American
in a low voice to Mrs Philpot. ‘Always butting in, isn’t he?  ‘I CAN HEAR EVERY WORD!’
‘Now,
now, Grand-dad, don’t upset yourself,’ said poor Mrs Philpot. ‘You just sit
there and have a nap.’
‘No.
I’m going out again,’ said Great-Grand-dad, heaving himself up. ‘There’s some
people that fair make me ill!’
And
out he went, leaning on his stick, a magnificent figure with his head of
snow-white hair and his long beard.
‘Like
someone out of the Old Testament,’ said Anne to Dick. Timmy got up and followed
the old man to the door, with Snippet close behind him. Junior saw Timmy at
once.
‘I
say! Look at that big dog!’ he said. ‘Who’s he? I’ve not seen him before. Hey,
you, come and have a bun.’
Timmy
took not the slightest notice. George addressed Junior in an icy voice. ‘That’s
my dog Timmy. I don’t allow anyone to feed him except myself.’
‘Shucks!’
said Junior, and threw the cake down on the floor, so that it slid to Tim’s
feet. ‘That’s for you, dog!’
Timmy
looked down at the cake, and stood perfectly still. Then he looked at George.
‘Come here, Timmy,’ said George, and he walked straight to her. The cake lay on
the floor half-broken into crumbs.
‘My
dog is not going to eat that,’ said George. ‘Better pick it up, hadn’t you?
It’s made a bit of a mess on the floor.’
‘Pick
it up yourself,’ said Junior, helping himself to another bun. ‘My, my - what a
glare you’ve got! Makes me want my sunglasses, brother!’ He gave George a
sudden sharp dig in the ribs, and she gasped. Timmy was beside her in a moment,
growling so deeply that Junior slid out of his seat in alarm.
‘Say,
Pop - this dog’s fierce!’ he said. ‘He made to bite me!’
‘He
did not,’ said George. ‘But he might bite if you don’t do what I said, and pick
up that bun!’
‘Now,
now,’ said Mrs Philpot, really distressed. ‘Leave it - it can be swept up
afterwards. Will you have another piece of cake, Mr Henning?’
It
really was an embarrassing meal, and Anne longed for it to be over. Junior
quietened down considerably when he saw Timmy lying down between his chair and
George’s, but his father made up for that by talking non-stop about the
‘wunnerful’ things he had bought that day. Everyone was extremely bored. The
twins came back with a jug of orangeade, which they placed on the table, with
two glasses, in case Mr Henning wanted some. They then disappeared.
‘Where
have they gone?’ demanded Junior, having poured a glass of orangeade straight
down his throat in a most remarkable manner. ‘Gee, that was good.’
‘The
twins have gone to help with the milking, I expect,’ said Mrs Philpot, looking
suddenly very weary. Julian looked at her. She must find these meals very
tiring, he thought, coping with so many people. Junior piped up at once.
‘I’ll
go and help with the milking,’ he said, and slid off his chair.
‘I’d
rather you didn’t, Junior,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘You upset the cows a bit last
time, you know.’
‘Aw
gee - that was because I was new to it,’ said Junior. Julian looked at Mr
Henning, expecting him to forbid Junior to go, but he said nothing. He lighted
a cigarette and threw the match down on the floor.
George
scowled when she saw Junior heading for the door. How dare he go out to the
milking against the wishes of his hostess? She murmured a few words to Timmy,
and he got up at once and ran to the door, barring it against Junior.
‘Get
outa my way, you,’ said Junior, stopping. Timmy growled. ‘Say, call him back,
will you?’ said Junior, turning round. No one said anything. Mrs Philpot rose
and began to gather things together. It seemed to George as if she had tears in
her eyes. No wonder, if this kind of thing happened every day!
As
Timmy stood like a statue in the doorway, giving small threatening growls every
now and again, Junior decided to give up. He dearly longed to give the dog a
kick, but didn’t dare to. He walked back to his father.
‘Say,
Pop - coming for a walk?’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Without
a word father and son walked out of the other door. Everyone heaved a sigh of
relief.
‘You
go and sit down and have a rest, Mrs Philpot,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll do the
washing-up. We’d love to!’
‘Well
- it’s really kind of you,’ said Mrs Philpot.   I do
hope Timmy won’t bite him!’
‘He’ll
probably give him a nip before long,’ said George cheerfully, collecting cups
and saucers with Anne. ‘What are you boys going to do? Go to the milking-shed?’
‘Yes.
We’ve milked cows plenty of times,’ said Dick. ‘Nice job! I like the smell of
cows. See you later, girls - and if that little Pest tries any tricks, just
give us a call! I’d love to rub his face into that crumby mess on the floor!’
‘I’m
just going to sweep it up,’ said Anne. ‘See you at supper-time!’
The
boys went out, whistling. Mrs Philpot had disappeared. Only George, Anne and
Timmy were left, for Snippet had gone out with the Harries.
‘I
rather wish we hadn’t come,’ said George, carrying out a tray to the scullery.
‘It’s an AWFUL lot for Mrs Philpot to do. Still - if she needs the money...’
‘Oh
well - we can help - and we’ll be out most of the day,’ said Anne. ‘We shan’t
see much of Junior - little beast!’
You’re
wrong, Anne. You’ll see far too much of him! It’s a good thing Timmy’s there -
he’s the only one that can manage people like Junior!
Chapter
Five
EVENING
AT THE FARM
George
and Anne went out to find the others in the milking-shed. There were plenty of
cows there, swishing their tails. The milking was almost finished, and the
twins were driving some of the cows back to their field.
‘Hallo
- how did you get on?’ asked Anne.
‘Fine
- it was fun,’ said Dick. ‘My cows did better than Julian’s, though - I sang to
them all the time, and they loved it!’
‘Ass!’
said George. ‘Did you have a talk with the farmer?’
‘Yes
- he says he’s got an old Land-Rover and he’ll take us all over the farm
tomorrow,’ said Dick, pleased. ‘And we can ride on that tractor, if Bill -
that’s one of his farm-hands - will let us. He says Bill won’t have Junior on
the tractor at any price - so maybe there’ll be ructions if he sees us on it!’
‘Well,
I’m all ready for a ruction, and so is Timmy,’ said George grimly. ‘Sooner or
later I’m going to tell Junior a few home-truths.’
‘We’d
all like to do that,’ said Julian. ‘But let’s hold our horses till a good
moment comes - I don’t want that nice Mrs Phitpot upset - and you know, if we
caused her to lose the two Americans she might suffer badly - in her pocket! I
bet they pay well.’
‘Well
- I understand all that too, Ju,’ said George. ‘But Timmy doesn’t. He’s longing
to have a go at Junior!’
‘And
how I share that feeling!’ said Dick, rubbing Timmy’s big head. ‘What’s the
time? Shall we go for a walk.”
‘No,’
said Julian. ‘My legs feel stiff with cycling up so many Dorset hills today. I
vote we just stroll around a bit, not go for miles.’
The
Five set off together, wandering round the farm buildings, They were all very
old, some of them falling to pieces. The roofs had great Dorset tiles, made of
stone, uneven and roughly shaped. They were a lovely grey, and were brilliant
with lichen and moss.
‘Aren’t
they gorgeous?’ said George, stopping to look at the tiles on a small
out-house. ‘Look at that lichen, did you ever see such a brilliant orange? But
what a pity - half of them have gone from this roof, and someone has replaced
them with horrid cheap tiles!’
‘Maybe
the Philpots sold them,’ said Julian. ‘Old tiles like that, brilliant with
lichen, can fetch quite a bit of money - especially from Americans. There’s
many a barn out in America covered with old tiles from this country, moss and
all. A bit of old England!’
‘If
I had a lovely old place like this I wouldn’t sell one single tile, or one
single bit of moss!’ said George, quite fiercely.
‘Maybe
you wouldn’t,’ said Dick. ‘But some would - if they loved their farm enough and
didn’t want to see it go to pieces for lack of money. Their fields would be
worth more than old tiles to them!’
‘I
bet old Grand-dad wouldn’t sell them if he could help it!’ said Anne. ‘I wonder
if the American has tried to buy any of these tiles? I guess he has.’
They
had an interesting time wandering round. They found one old barn-like shed
stacked with ancient cast-away junk, and Julian rummaged in it with great
interest.
‘Look
at this giant cart-wheel!’ he said, peering into a dark corner. ‘It’s almost as
tall as I am! My word - they must have made all their own wheels here in the old
days - in this very shed, perhaps. And maybe their own tools too. Look at this
old tool - what in the world is it?’
They
gazed at the curious curved tool, still as strong and as good as it had been
two or three centuries before. It was heavy, and Julian thought that he
wouldn’t have liked to use it for more than ten minutes at a time!
‘But
I bet old Grand-dad could use it for a whole day and never get tired,’ he said.
‘When he was a young man, I mean. He must have been as strong as an ox, then.’
‘Well,
you remember what the girl at the dairy said,’ put in Anne. ‘She said he had
once fought a bull and knocked it out. We must ask him about that. I bet he’d
love to tell us.’
‘He’s
a real old character!’ said Julian. ‘I like him, shouts and temper and all.
Come on - it’s getting latish. We didn’t ask about the evening meal. I wonder
what time we ought to get back for it?’
‘Half
past seven,’ said George. ‘I asked. We’d better go back now, because we’ll have
to get ourselves clean - and Anne and I want to help lay the table.’
‘Right.
Back we go,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Tim. Stop sniffing about that old rubbish.
Surely you can’t smell anything exciting there!’
They
went back to the farm-house, and the girls went to wash at the kitchen sink,
seeing Mrs Philpot already preparing for supper. ‘Won’t be a minute!’ called
Anne. ‘We’ll do those potatoes for you, Mrs Philpot. I say, what a lovely farm
this is. We’ve been exploring those old sheds.’
‘Yes
- they need clearing out,’ said Mrs Philpot, who looked better for the rest she
had had. ‘But old Great-Grand-dad, he won’t have them touched. Says he promised
his Grand-dad not to let them go to anyone! But we did sell some of those
lovely old grey tiles once - to an American, of course, a friend of Mr
Benning’s - and Grand-dad almost went out of his mind. Shouted day and night,
poor old chap, and went about with a pitch-fork in his hand all the time,
daring any stranger even so much as to walk over the fields! We had such a time
with him.’
‘Good
gracious!’ said Anne, having a sudden vision of the grand old man stalking
about his fields, shouting, and waving a great pitch-fork.
Supper
was really a very pleasant meal, for Mr Henning and Junior didn’t come in.
There was much talk and laughter at the table, though the twins, as usual, said
hardly anything. They puzzled Anne. Why should they be so unfriendly? She
smiled at them once or twice, but each time they turned their eyes away.
Snippet lay at their feet, and Timmy lay under the table. Great-Grand-dad was
not there, nor was Mr Philpot.
‘They’re
both making the best of the daylight,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘There’s a lot to do
on the farm just now.’
The
children enjoyed the meat-pie that Mrs Philpot had baked, and the stewed plums
and rich cream that followed. Anne suddenly yawned a very large yawn.
‘Sorry!’
she said. ‘It just came all of a sudden. I don’t know why I feel so sleepy.’
‘You’ve
set me off now,’ said Dick, and put his hand in front of an even larger yawn.
‘Well, I don’t wonder we feel sleepy. Ju and I set off at dawn this morning -
and I know you girls had a jolly long bus-ride!’
‘Well,
you go to bed, all of you, as early as you like,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I expect
you’ll want to be up bright and early in the morning. The Harries are always up
about six o’clock - they just will not stay in bed!’
‘And
what time does Junior get up?’ asked George, with a grin. ‘Six o’clock too?’
‘Oh,
not before nine o’clock usually,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Mr Henning comes down
about eleven - he likes his breakfast in bed. So does Junior.’
‘WHAT?

‘I’ll
take Junior his breakfast,’ said George, much to everyone’s astonishment.
‘Timmy and I together. We’d like to. Wouldn’t we, Timmy?’
Timmy
made a most peculiar noise from under the table.  ‘And I’m not surprised! I’d just like to see Junior’s face if
you and Tim walked in on him with his breakfast!’
‘Do
you bet me I won’t do it?’ demanded George, really on her mettle now.
‘Yes.
I do bet you,’ said Dick at once. ‘I bet you my new pocket-knife you won’t!’
‘Taken!’
said George. Mrs Philpot looked puzzled. ‘No, no, my dears,’ she said. ‘I can’t
have one guest waiting on another. Though I must say those stairs are a trial
to my legs, when I’m carrying up trays!’
‘I’ll
take up Junior’s tray and Mr Henning’s too, if you like,’ said George, in a
half-kind, half-fierce voice.
‘NOT
Mr Henning’s,’ said Julian, giving George a warning look. ‘Don’t go too far,
old thing. Just Junior’s tray will be enough.’
‘All
right, all right,’ said George, rather sulkily. ‘Aren’t Junior and Mr Henning
coming in to supper?’
‘Not
tonight,’ said Mrs Philpot, in a thankful voice. ‘They’re dining at some hotel
in Dorchester, I think. I expect they get a bit tired of our simple farm-house
meals. I only hope they won’t be too late back. Great-Grand-dad likes to lock
up early.’
The
children were really glad when the evening meal was cleared away and washed up,
for they all felt heavy with sleep. The good strong air, the exciting day and
the many jobs they had done had really tired them.
‘Good
night, Mrs Philpot,’ they said, when everything was done. ‘We’re off to bed.
Are the twins coming too?’
The
twins actually condescended to nod. They looked tired out. Julian wondered
where Mr Philpot and old Great-Grand-dad were - still out working, he supposed.
He yawned. Well, he was for bed - and even if he had had to sleep on the bare
ground that night, he knew he would sleep well! He thought longingly of his
camp-bed.
They
went their various ways - the twins and Julian and Dick to the big barn - the
girls upstairs to the room opposite Junior’s. George peeped into it. It was
even untidier than before, and obviously Junior must have been eating nuts up
there, for the floor was strewn with shells.
They
were soon in bed - the girls cuddled together in the big, rather hard, old bed,
the boys in their separate camp-beds. Timmy was on George’s feet, and Snippet
slept first on one twin’s feet, and then on the other’s. He was always
perfectly fair in his favours!
A
crashing noise awoke the girls about two hours later, and they sat upright in
bed, alarmed. Timmy began to bark. George crept to the top of the stairs,
hearing Grand-dad’s loud voice below, and then crept back to Anne.
‘It’s
Mr Henning and Junior come back,’ she said. ‘Apparently old Grand-dad had
locked up, and they crashed and banged on the knocker. My, what a to-do! Here
comes Junior!’ And indeed, here Junior did come, stamping up the stairs, and
singing loudly.
‘Little
pest!’ said George. ‘Wait till I take him his breakfast tomorrow!’
Chapter
Six
A
LITTLE EXCITEMENT FOR BREAKFAST!
It
was fun to sleep in the barn. Dick tried to keep awake for a while, and enjoy
the barn-smell, and the sight of the stars in the sky seen through the open
door, where a cool little night-breeze came wandering in.
Julian
fell asleep at once, and did not even hear the crashing of the knocker at the
front door of the farmhouse when the Hennings came in, or the loud voices. He
awoke with a start at about one o’clock in the morning, and sat straight up in
bed, his heart beating fast. What on earth was that noise he had heard?
He
heard it again and laughed.  It’s only an owl. Or maybe more
than one. And gosh, what was that high little scream? A mouse - or a rat?
Perhaps the owls are hunting in here?’
He
lay still and listened. He suddenly felt a rush of cool air over his face, and
stiffened. That must have been an owl’s soft-feathered wings! Owls’ wings made
no noise, he knew. The feathers were so soft that not even a quick-eared mouse
could hear an owl swooping silently down!
There
came another little high-pitched squeak. ‘The owl’s doing his job well,’
thought Julian. ‘What a fine hunting-place for him - a barn where food-stuffs
are stored - over-run with mice and rats, of course. I bet this owl is worth his
weight in gold to the farmer. Well, owl, do your job - but for goodness’ sake
don’t mistake my nose for a mouse!
I saw you then - a shadow passing by!’
He
fell asleep once more and didn’t wake until the sun streamed into the barn,
lighting up hundreds of tiny motes floating in the air. Julian looked at his
watch.
‘Half
past seven! And I meant to be up at seven. Dick! Wake up!’
Dick
was so sound asleep that he didn’t wake even when Julian shook him. He merely
rolled over and settled down again. Julian glanced across the barn, and saw
that the twins’ camp-beds were empty. They had stacked their pillows and
bed-clothes in neat piles, and disappeared silently out of the door. Without
waking us! thought Julian, pulling on his socks. I wonder if I can wash at the
big kitchen-sink. ‘Dick - will you wake up?’ he said loudly. ‘It might be TEN
O’CLOCK for all you care!’
Dick
heard the two shouted words and sat up at once, looking aghast. ‘Ten o’clock?
Oh no! Gosh, I must have slept all round the clock, Oh, I say - I didn’t mean
to be late for breakfast. I...’
‘Calm
down,’ grinned Julian, brushing his hair. ‘I only said, “It might be ten
o’clock for all you care!”  ‘Oh for ten minutes more!’
‘The
twins have gone already,’ said Julian. ‘I wonder if the girls are up. Oh my
goodness, what’s that?’
Something
had jabbed him sharply in the back, making him jump violently. Julian swung
round, expecting it to be Junior or one of the twins playing a silly joke.
‘Oh
- it’s you - Nosey the jackdaw!’ he said, looking at the cheeky bird, now
perched on his pillow. ‘You’ve got a jolly sharp beak!’
‘Chack!’
said the jackdaw, and flew to his shoulder. Julian felt flattered - until the
jackdaw pecked his ear! ‘Here - you take the bird,’ he said to the unwary Dick
and handed Nosey to him. Nosey promptly pounced on the watch lying beside
Dick’s pillow and flew off with it.
 Don’t you know a watch when you see one? He’s
taken my watch, Ju - goodness knows where he’ll hide it!’
‘He’s
gone into the roof,’ said Julian. ‘We’d better tell the twins. Perhaps they can
deal with him. Now WHY doesn’t he take Junior’s watch - that would be a trick I
should really applaud!’
‘CHACK,
CHACK, CHACK,’ said Nosey, exactly as if he agreed. He had to open his beak to
say ‘chack’ and the watch promptly fell out. It bounced on to a sack far below,
and the bird swooped down to get it. Dick also swooped, and as the watch had
now slipped between two sacks, he managed to get it before the jackdaw.
Nosey
flew up into the roof, and chacked angrily. ‘Don’t use such bad language,’ said
Dick severely, strapping on his watch. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself!’
They
went out of the barn and round to the farmhouse.  Breakfast was on
the table, but already quite a number of people seemed to have had it!
‘The
girls haven’t had theirs,’ said Dick, looking at the places set in front of the
chairs where George and Anne had sat the night before. ‘But the twins have. It
looks as if everyone has, except us four, apparently! Ah - here’s Mrs Philpot.
Sorry we’re late. We overslept, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s
all right!’ said Mrs Philpot, smiling. ‘I don’t expect my visitors to be up
early. Anyone can sleep late on a holiday!’
She
held a tray in her hands, and set it down on the table. ‘That’s for Mr Henning
- he’ll ring when he wants his breakfast. That’s Junior’s tray over there. I
make the coffee when they ring,’ she said, and went out again.
There
was cold ham for breakfast, boiled eggs and fruit. The two boys tucked in, and
looked round reprovingly when the two girls came, with Timmy behind them, still
sleepy-eyed. ‘Overslept, I suppose?’ said Dick, pretending to be shocked. ‘Sit
down. I’ll pour you some coffee.’
‘Where’s
Junior - not down yet, I hope?’ said George anxiously. ‘I’ve not forgotten my
bet about taking up his breakfast!’
‘I
say - do you think it’s all right to let George take up Junior’s breakfasts
said Julian, after a pause. ‘George, don’t throw the tray at him or anything,
will you?’
‘I
might,’ said George, eating a boiled egg. ‘Anything to get your new
pocket-knife from you!’
‘Well,
don’t go too far in teasing Junior,’ said Julian warningly. ‘You don’t want to
make the Henning family walk out and leave Mrs Philpot high and dry!’
‘All
right, all right,’ said George. ‘Don’t nag. I think I’ll have another egg,
Dick. Pass one over, please. I don’t know why I’m so hungry.’
‘Leave
a bit of room for this ham,’ said Dick, who had cut himself two good slices.
‘It’s out of this world! Simply too good to be true! I could eat it all day.’
The
two girls tucked into their breakfast, and just as they were finishing, a bell
rang very loudly in the kitchen, jangling just above their heads. They jumped
violently. Mm Philpot came into the room at once. ‘That’s Mr Henning’s bell,’
she said. ‘I must make his coffee.’
‘I’ll
take up his tray,’ said Anne. ‘George is going to take up Junior’s.’
‘Oh
no - I really don’t like you to do that,’ said Mrs Philpot, distressed. Just
then another bell rang. It jangled to and fro for a very long time.
‘That’s
Junior’s bell,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘He always seems to think I’m quite deaf!’
‘Bad-mannered
little beast!’ said Dick, and was pleased to find that Mrs Philpot didn’t
disagree!
Anne
waited till Mr Henning’s tray was ready, and then firmly put her hands to the
sides. ‘I’m going to take it to Mr Henning,’ she said in a most determined
voice, and Mrs Philpot smiled gratefully and let her lift it. ‘Bedroom on the
left of the stairs, first floor!’ she said. ‘And he likes his curtains pulled,
too, when his breakfast is brought.’
‘And
does Junior like his pulled as well?’ inquired George, in such a sugary voice
that the two boys looked round at her suspiciously. What was she up to now?
 Thank you very much, dear!’
Anne
had already gone upstairs with Mr Henning’s tray, and now George set off with
Junior’s. She winked at Dick. ‘Get that pocket-knife ready for me!’ she said,
and disappeared through the door, grinning wickedly. She went carefully
upstairs with Timmy close at her heels, wondering whatever George was doing
with a tray!
George
came to Junior’s door. It was shut. She gave it a violent kick and it flew
open. She entered, clattering with her feet, and set the tray down on a table
with a jolt that upset the coffee. She went whistling to the windows, and
pulled the curtains back across the poles so that they made a loud clattering
noise.
Junior
had apparently fallen asleep again, his head under the clothes. George upset a
chair with a crash. That made Junior sit up, half scared. ‘What’s going on
here?’ he began. ‘Can’t you bring my breakfast without ...’ Then he saw that it
was George in the room, not the kindly Mrs Philpot.
‘Get
out!’ he said angrily. ‘Crashing about like that! Pull the curtains across
again. The sun’s too strong. And look how you’ve spilt the coffee! Why didn’t
Mrs Philpot bring my breakfast? She usually does. Here - put the tray on my
knees, like she does!’
George
whipped the bed-clothes off him, took up the tray and set it down violently on
his pyjama’d knees.  They were hot, and he yelled loudly. He lashed out at George, and
hit her hard on the shoulder.
That
was a very great mistake. Timmy, who was at the door watching, leapt on to the
bed at once, growling. He pulled the terrified boy on to the floor, and kept
him lying there, standing over him, deep growls coming from the depths of his
great body.
George
took absolutely no notice. She went round the room, humming a little tune,
putting this and that straight, tidying the dressing-table, not seeming to
notice what Timmy was doing.
‘George
- take this dog off me!’ begged Junior.  GEORGE! I’ll tell my
Pop of you. I’m sorry I hit you. Oh, no take this dog off me, PLEASE do!’
He
began to weep, and George looked scornfully down at him.  ‘I’ve a good mind to leave you here all morning, with
Timmy on guard! But this time I’ll be generous to you. Come here, Tim.
Junior
was still weeping. He crept into bed and wrapped the blankets round him. ‘I don’t
want any breakfast,’ he wept. ‘I’ll tell Pop about you. He’ll lam you all
right.’
‘Yes,
you tell him,’ said George, tucking him in so tightly that he couldn’t move.
‘You tell him - and I’ll whisper into Timmy’s ear that you’ve told tales of me
- and honestly, I simply don’t know what he’ll do!’
‘You
are the most horrible boy I’ve ever met,’ said Junior, knowing when he was
beaten. George grinned. So he thought she was a boy, did he? Good!
‘Mrs
Philpot isn’t going to bring up your breakfast any more,’ she said. ‘I’m going
to - with Timmy. See? And if you dare to ring that bell more than once each
morning, you’ll be sorry!’
‘I
don’t want my breakfast brought up,’ said Junior, in a small voice. ‘I’d rather
get up and go downstairs for it. I don’t want you to bring it.’
‘Right.
I’ll tell Mrs Philpot,’ said George. ‘But if you change your mind, just tell
me. I’ll bring it up any morning - with Timmy!’
 He didn’t like Junior any more than George did.
George
went into the kitchen. Dick and Julian were still there. ‘You’ve lost your bet,
Dick,’ said George. ‘Pocket-knife, please. I not only took up his breakfast,
and accidentally spilt hot coffee on him, but Timmy here pulled him out of bed
and stood over him, growling. What a sight that was! Poor Junior doesn’t want
his breakfast in bed any more! He’s coming down for it each morning.’
‘Good
for you, George!’ said Dick, and slid his pocket-knife across the table. ‘You
deserve to win. Now - sit down and finish your breakfast and mind - I’m not
betting anything else for a long, long time!’
Chapter
Seven
THE
TWINS CHANGE THEIR MINDS
The
twins, Harry and Harriet, had had their breakfast some while ago. They now came
into the big kitchen, Snippet at their heels, and scowled to see the Five still
having breakfast there. Anne was in fits of laughter over George’s account of
the way she had dealt with Junior.
‘You
should have seen his face when I planked the breakfast tray on his knees, and
the hot coffee splashed him!’ said George. ‘He let out a yell that startled
even old Timmy. And when he hit me, and Timmy leapt on the bed and dragged him
out on to the floor, his eyes nearly fell out of his head!’
‘No
wonder he’s decided to come down to breakfast each morning, then,’ said Julian.
‘He’ll be scared stiff of you appearing with a breakfast tray again!’
The
twins listened to this in amazement. They looked at one another, and nodded.
Then they walked up to the breakfast table, and for once in a way, only one
twin spoke. Whether it was Harry or Harriet, nobody knew, for they both looked
so much alike.
‘What’s
happened?’ said the twin to George. ‘Why did you take up Junior’s breakfast
tray.”
‘Because
we were all so fed up with the way Junior - and his Pop - impose on your
mother,’ said George.
George
proudly displayed the knife. The twins each gave a sudden loud laugh, which
surprised the others very much. ‘Well, I’m blessed!’ said Dick. ‘Fancy you
being able to laugh! You always look so fierce and unfriendly. Well, now that
you’ve condescended to talk to us, let me tell you this - we think your mother
is absolutely tops, and far from giving her more trouble, we’re all going to
help as much as we can. Got that?’
Both
twins were smiling broadly now. They took it in turns to speak, which was
really much more friendly than their usual stiff way of talking in unison.
‘We
hate Junior!’ said one twin. ‘He thinks our mother is a kind of slave, to come
when he rings for her, or shouts for her.’
‘His
father’s the same,’ said the other twin. ‘Wanting this and that, and sending
our mother all over the place to fetch and carry for him. Why doesn’t he go and
stay at a hotel?’
‘He
doesn’t because he’s so set on snooping out our old things and buying them,’
said the other twin. ‘I know for a fact that Mother has sold him some of her
own things - but she just had to have some money; things are so expensive, and
we grow out of our clothes so quickly.’
‘I
say - it is nice to hear you talking properly,’ said Julian, clapping the twin
on the back. ‘And now would you mind letting us know how to tell which of you
is which? I know one’s a boy and one’s a girl, but you both look exactly alike
to me - you might be two
boys!’
The
twins gave sudden, mischievous grins. ‘Well - don’t you tell Junior, then,’
said one. ‘You can always tell me by this scar on my hand, see? Harriet hasn’t
any scar. I’m Harry.’
The
four looked at the long thin scar on the boy’s hand. ‘I got that by tearing the
back of my hand on barbed wire,’ said Harry. ‘Now you’ll know us from each
other! I say - tell us all about George and the breakfast tray, from beginning
to end. Good old George. She looks just as much a boy as Harriet does.’
It
was very pleasant to find the twins so friendly, after their stiff, sullen
dislike. The four warmed to them - and when Mrs Philpot suddenly appeared in
the kitchen to clear away breakfast, she was astounded to see her twins talking
and laughing gaily with the others.
‘Mother!
Junior’s not going to have breakfast in bed any more!’ said Harry, ‘Listen
why!’ And the story had to be told all over again. George went red. She was
half afraid that Mrs Philpot would be really displeased. But no, she threw back
her head and Iaughed.
‘Oh,
that really does me good,’ she said.  We do need their money, you
know, much as I hate having them here. Now I must clear away breakfast!’
‘No,
you mustn’t. That’s our job,’ said Anne. ‘Isn’t it, twins?’
‘YES!’
said both twins together. ‘We’re all friends now, Mother - let them belong to
the family.’
‘Well,
I’ll go and see to the chickens, then, if you’re going to clear away,’ said Mrs
Philpot. ‘You can wash up, too, bless you!’
‘Look
- how would you like to go round the farm in our old Land-Rover today?’ said
Harry to the others. ‘It’s the best way to see over the farm. I think Bill’s
got to go round this morning, and check on the fields and the stock. He’ll take
you, if I ask him.’
‘Fine!’
said Julian. ‘What time?’
‘In
about half an hour,’ said Harry. I’ll find Bill - and when you hear a horn
hooting, come on out. By the way, Bill isn’t much of a talker, but if he takes
to you, he’ll be quite pally.’
‘Right,’
said Julian. ‘Can Dick and I do something while the girls are clearing away?’
‘Gosh
yes, there’s ALWAYS something to do on a farm,’ said Harry, ‘Come on up to the
chicken-houses - Harriet and I are patching them up to stop the rain leaking
in.’
Julian
and Dick, with Timmy behind them, immediately went off with the twins, now as
merry and friendly as before they had been dour and sullen! What a change!
‘Well,
thank goodness I took Junior’s breakfast up to him, and put him in his place,’
said George, folding up the table-cloth. ‘It was apparently just the one thing
that would make the twins friendly! Hark, Anne, I believe that’s Junior
coming.’
She
slipped behind the dresser, while Anne set the chairs straight round the table.
Junior came creeping in very quietly indeed, and looked round fearfully. He
seemed very relieved to find only Anne there. He considered that she was quite
harmless!
‘Where’s
that dog?’ he asked.
‘What
dog?’ said Anne innocently.
‘Oh,
you mean George, I suppose,’ said Anne, amused that Junior thought George was a
boy. ‘Well, look over there!’
Junior
saw George advancing on him from behind the dresser, gave one agonized yell and
fled, fearing that she had Timmy somewhere behind her. George laughed.
‘We
shan’t have much trouble with him in future,’ she said, ‘I just hope he doesn’t
say too much to his Pop!’
After
a while they heard the sound of a hooter outside. ‘That’s the Land-Rover,’ said
George, excited. ‘Well, we’ve just finished the washing-up. Hang up the
tea-cloths to dry, Anne. I’ll pop these dishes into the cupboard...’
Soon
they were out of the great kitchen door and down the passage that led to the
yard. Not far off was a van-like car, the Land-Rover. It was an old one, very
dirty, and a bit lop-sided. Dick and Julian yelled to the girls.
‘Buck
up! Didn’t you hear us hooting?’
The
girls ran to the Land-Rover. Bill, the farmhand, was at the wheel. He grinned
at them and nodded. Timmy greeted George as if he hadn’t seen her for a year
and almost knocked her down in his playfulness.
‘Tim!
 Where are the twins? Aren’t they coming?’
‘Naw,’
said Bill. ‘They be busy.’
They
all got in, and were just about to set off when someone else appeared. ‘Wait!
I’m coming! Wait, I say!’
 ‘Jump down, Tim - go to him,’ said
George, in a low voice. And very willingly indeed Timmy leapt down and ran
full-tilt towards the unsuspecting Junior. He gave one loud yell, turned, and
fled for his life.
‘Well,
that’s got rid of him!’ said Dick, with much satisfaction.
It
did indeed look as if Tim was laughing, for he had his mouth wide open, showing
all his teeth, and his tongue was hanging out happily. He leapt back into the
car.
‘Sensible
dog, that,’ said Bill, and then relapsed into his usual silence as he started
up the Land-Rover with a really shattering noise. It moved off towards the
fields.
How
it jolted! The four clung to the sides of the van, ahnost bumped off their
seats as the Land-Rover jerked its way over field-paths, up hill and down hill,
jolting in and out of deep ruts, appearing to be on the point of overturning at
any minute. Anne wasn’t sure that she liked it much, but the others enjoyed
every minute,
‘Now
you’ll see the farm-land,’ said Bill, as they came to the top of the hill.
‘Look yonder! Could be the finest farm in the county, if Mester Philpot had the
money!’
 It spread out in all
directions over undulating hills, and the van swung up and down and continually
lurched round corners. It stopped every now and again so that the children
might see the magnificent views.
Bill
told them the names of the great fields as they passed them. ‘That’s Oak-Tree
Field - that’s Hangman’s Copse over there - that’s Tinker’s Wood Field - and
that’s Faraway Field - the furthest from the farm-house.’
Name
after name came from his lips, and it seemed as if the sight of the fields he
knew and loved suddenly set his tongue going. He told them about the stock too.
‘Them’s the new cows over there - give good milk they do - helps a farmer no
end to get money every week for milk, you know. And them’s the bulls, down in
that field. Fine creatures, too - cost a mint of money. But Mester Philpot, he
believes in good animals. He’d rather go without a new car than buy poor stock.
Them’s the sheep right away over there - see, dotted about on those slopes.
Can’t take you to see ’em today, though. You’d like Shepherd.
He
relapsed into silence after this unusual spate of talk, and turned down a path
that took the children back towards the farm-house, using a different route, to
show them even more fields.
There
were glorious fields of corn, golden in the sun, waving in the breeze with a
wonderful rustling noise. ‘I could sit here for hours and look at that, and
listen,’ said Anne.
‘Then
don’t you marry a farmer, if so be you wants to do that, for a farmer’s wife
has no time to sit!’ said Bill dryly, and was silent again.
They
jolted along, shaken to the bones, but loving every minute. ‘Cows, calves,
sheep, lambs, bulls, dogs, ducks, chickens,’ chanted Anne. ‘Corn, kale, beet,
cauliflower - ooh, Bill, look out!’
The
van had gone at such speed into a deep rut that Anne was nearly flung out.
Timmy shot through the back entrance of the van, and landed on the ground,
rolling over and over. He got slowly to his feet, looking most amazed.
‘Timmy!
It’s all right!  ‘Buck up
- jump in!’
As
the Land-Rover didn’t stop, Timmy had to gallop after it, and enter with a
flying leap from the back. Bill gave a snort of laughter, which made the wheel
wobble dangerously. ‘This here old car’s almost human,’ he said. ‘Just jigs
about for joy on a day like this!’
And
he drove headlong over a slanting path and straight down into a hollow, making
poor Anne groan again. ‘All very well for Bill!’ she said, in Julian’s ear.
‘He’s got the wheel to hang on to!’
In
spite of the jolting and bumping the Five immensely enjoyed their ride round
the farm. ‘Now we really know what it’s like!’ said Julian, as the Land-Rover
came to a very sudden stop near the farm-house, throwing them all on top of one
another. ‘My word - no wonder old Great-Grand-dad, and Mr and Mrs Philpot love
the place. It’s GRAND! Thanks awfully, Bill. We’ve enjoyed it tremendously!
Wish my people had a farm like this!’
‘Farm
like this? Ay. It’s taken centuries to grow,’ said Bill. ‘All them names I told
you - they’m centuries old too. Nobody knows now who was hanged down in
Hangman’s Copse - or what Tinkers came to Tinkers Wood. But they’m not forgot
as long as they fields are there!’
Anne
stared at Bill in wonder. Why, that was almost poetry, she thought. He turned
and saw her gazing at him. He nodded at her.
‘You
unnerstand all right, miss, don’t you?’ he said. ‘There’s some that don’t,
though. That Mr Henning, he raves about it all - but he don’t unnerstand a
thing. As fer that boy of his!’ And to Anne’s surprise he turned and spat into
the ditch, ‘That’s what I thinks of him!’
‘Oh
- it’s just the way he’s been brought up, I expect,’ said Anne. ‘I’ve met heaps
of fine American children, and ...’
‘Well,
that one wants a hiding!’ said Bill, grimly. ‘And if it wasn’t that Mrs Philpot
begged me to keep my hands offen him, he’d be black and blue, that boy! And so
I tell you! Trying to ride on them scarey calves and chasing the hens till
they’re scared off egg-laying - and stoning the ducks, poor critturs - and
slitting sacks of seed just for the fun of seeing it dribble out and waste!
Hoo, wouldn’t I like to shake him till his bones rattled!’
The
four listened in silence, horrified. Junior was much worse than they had
thought, then. George felt very very pleased that she had taught him a lesson
that morning.
‘Don’t
you worry any more about Junior,’ said Julian grimly. ‘We’ll keep him in order
while we’re here!’
They
said good-bye and walked back to the farmhouse, stiff and sore from the bumpy,
bone-shaking ride, but with their minds full of the lovely sloping hills, the
blue distance, the waving corn, and the feel of a farmland in good heart.
‘That
was good,’ said Julian, voicing the feelings of the others. ‘Very good. I
somehow feel more English for having seen those Dorset fields, set about by
hedges, basking in the sun.’
‘I
liked Bill,’ said Anne. ‘He’s so - so solid and real. He belongs to the land,
just as the land belongs to him. They’re one!’
‘Ah
- Anne has discovered what farming really means!’ said Dick. ‘I say, I’m most
awfully hungry, but I really don’t like to go and ask for anything at the
farm-house. Let’s go down to the village and get buns and milk at the dairy.’
‘Oh
yes!’ said Anne and George, and Timmy gave a few sharp, short barks as if he
thoroughly agreed. They set off down the lane that led to the village, and soon
came to the little ice-cream shop, half baker’s half dairy. Janie, the small
talkative girl, was there again. She smiled at them in delight.
‘You’re
here again!’ she said, in pleasure. ‘Mum’s made some macaroons this morning.
See - all gooey and fresh!’
‘Now
how did you guess that we are all very partial to macaroons?’ said Dick,
sitting down at one of the two little tables there. ‘We’ll have a plateful,
please.’
‘What,
a whole plateful?’ exclaimed Janie. ‘But there’s about twenty on a plate!’
‘Just
about right,’ said Dick. ‘And an ice-cream each, please. Large. And don’t
forget our dog, will you?’
‘Oh
no, I won’t,’ said Janie. ‘He’s a very nice dog, isn’t he? Have you noticed
what lovely smiley eyes he has?’
‘Well,
yes, we have. We know him quite well, you see,’ said Dick, amused. George
looked pleased. She did so like Timmy to be praised. Timmy liked it too. He
actually went up to Janie and licked her hand!
Soon
they had a plateful of delicious macaroons in front of them - and they were
indeed nice, and very ‘gooey’ inside, as Janie had so rightly said. George gave
Timmy one, but it was really wasted on him, because he gave one crunch, and
then swallowed it! He also chased his ice-cream all over the floor again, much
to Janie’s delight.
‘How
do you like it at Mrs Philpot’s?’ she asked. ‘Kind, isn’t she?’
‘Very!’
said everyone together.
‘We
love being at the farm,’ said Anne. ‘We’ve been all over it this morning, in
the Land-Rover.’
‘Did
Bill take you?’ asked Janie. ‘He’s my uncle. But he don’t usually say much to
strangers.’
‘Well,
he said plenty to us,’ said Julian. ‘He was most interesting. Does he like
macaroons?’
‘Oooh
yes,’ said Janie, rather astonished. ‘Everyone likes Mum’s macaroons.’
‘Could
he eat six, do you think?’ asked Julian.
‘Ooooh
yes,’ said Janie, still astonished, her blue eyes opened wide.
‘Right.
Put six in a bag for me,’ said Julian. ‘I’ll give them to him in return for a
jolly fine ride.’
‘That’s
right down nice of you,’ said Janie, pleased. ‘My uncle’s been on Finniston
Farm all his life. You ought to get him to show you where Finniston Castle used
to stand, before it was burnt down, and...’
‘Finniston
Castle!’ exclaimed George, in surprise. ‘We went all over the farm this
morning, and saw every field - but we didn’t see any ruined castle.’
‘Oh
no, you wouldn’t see anything!’ said Janie. ‘I told you - it was burnt down.
Right to the ground, ages ago. Finniston Farm belonged to it, you know. There’s
some pictures of it in a shop down the road. I saw them, and...’
‘Now
Janie, Janie, how many times have I told you not to chatter to customers?’ said
Janie’s mother, bustling in, frowning. ‘That tongue of yours! Can’t you learn
that people don’t want to hear your chatter, chatter, chatter?’
‘We
like talking to Janie,’ said Julian, politely. ‘She’s most interesting. Please
don’t send her away.’
But
Janie had fled, red-cheeked and scared. Her mother began to arrange the goods
on the counter. ‘Let’s see now - what did you have?’ she said. ‘Good gracious,
where are all those macaroons gone? There were at least two dozen there!’
‘Er
- well - we had almost twenty - and the dog helped, of course - and Janie put
six in a bag for us - let’s see now...’
‘There
were twenty-four on that plate,’ said Janie’s mother, still amazed.
‘Twenty-four! I counted them!’
‘And
five ice-creams,’ said Julian. ‘How much is that altogether? Most delicious
macaroons they were!’
Janie’s
mother couldn’t help smiling. She totted up the bill, and Julian paid.
They
set off down the street, feeling very pleased with life. Timmy kept licking his
lips as if he could still taste macaroon and ice-cream! They walked to the end
of the street, and came to the little lane that led up to the farm. Anne
stopped.
‘I’d
like to go and look at the horse-brasses in this little antique shop,’ she
said. ‘You go on. I’ll come later.’
‘I’ll
come in with you,’ said George, and she turned to the little shop-window. The
boys walked on by themselves. ‘We’ll probably be helping on the farm
somewhere!’ shouted back Dick. ‘So long!’
Just
as Anne and George were going into the shop, two people came out and almost
bumped into them. One was Mr Henning the American, the other was a man they
hadn’t seen before. ‘Good morning,’ Mr Henning said to them, and went into the
street with his friend. Anne and George walked into the dark little shop.
There
was an old man there, drumming on the counter, looking quite angry. He gave the
two girls such a glare that they felt quite frightened!
‘That
man!’ said the old man, and frowned so fiercely that his glasses fell off. Anne
helped him to find them among the clutter of quaint old trinkets on his
counter. He fixed them on his nose again and looked sternly at the two girls
and Timmy.
‘If
you’ve come to waste my time, please go,’ he said. ‘I’m a busy man. Children
are no good to me. Just want to nose round and touch this and that, and never
buy anything!  I’m upset. I’m always upset when people want to buy our
beautiful old things and take them away to a country they don’t belong to.
Now...’
‘It’s
all right, Mr Finniston,’ said Anne, in her gentle voice; ‘You are Mr
Finniston, aren’t you? I just wanted to look at those lovely old horse-brasses,
please. I won’t bother you for long. We’re staying at Finniston Farm, and...’
‘Ah
- at Finniston Farm, did you say?’ said the old man, his face brightening.
‘Then you’ve met my great friend, dear old Jonathan Philpot. My very great
friend!’
‘Is
that Mr Philpot, the twins’ father?’ asked George.
‘No,
no, no - it’s old Great-Grand-dad! We went to school together,’ said the old
man, excited. ‘Ah - I could tell you some tales of the Finnistons and the
castle they once owned. Yes, yes - I’m a descendant of the owners of that
castle, you know - the one that was burnt down. Oh, the tales I could tell
you!’
And
it was just at that moment that the Adventure began - the Finniston Farm
adventure that the Five-were never to forget!
Chapter
Nine
A
VERY INTERESTING TALE!
Anne
and George looked at the quaint old man, fascinated, as he talked to them. He
stood there behind the counter of his little dark antique shop, surrounded by
things even older than himself, a little bent old man with only a few hairs on
his head. He had a kindly wrinkled face with eyes so hooded with drooping lids
that they seemed to look out through slits.
The
two girls were thrilled to hear that old Mr Finniston was actually descended
from the long-ago Finnistons, who lived in Finniston Castle.
‘Is
that why your name’s Finniston?’ asked Anne. ‘Tell us about the castle. We only
heard about it for the first time today. But we don’t even know exactly
whereabouts it stood. I didn’t see a single stone when we went round the farm
this morning!’
‘No,
no, you wouldn’t,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘It was burnt right down to the ground,
you see - and through the centuries people have taken the old stones for
building walls. Ah well - it was a long, long time ago!’
‘How
long?’ asked George.
‘Let’s
see now - it was burnt down in 1192 - the twelfth century,’ said Mr Finniston.
‘Norman times, you know. Ever heard of the Normans? Schooling isn’t what it
was, I know, so maybe...’
‘Of
course we’ve heard of the Normans!’ said George, indignantly.  They conquered England, and the first Norman king was William the
First, 1066!’
‘Hmm
- that’s right. You’ve had some schooling, then,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘Well, it
was a Norman castle - look, like that one in this picture, see?’ And he showed
them a copy of an old print. They gazed at the stone castle pictured there.
‘Yes.
It’s a Norman castle,’ said George. ‘Was Finniston Castle just like that?’
‘I’ve
got a copy of an old drawing of it somewhere,’ said the old fellow. ‘I’ll find
it and show it to you sometime. A small castle, of course - but a very fine
specimen. Well, well, you won’t be interested in such details, I know. How it
was burnt down, I don’t know. Can’t find out for certain. The story goes that
it was attacked at night by the enemy, and there were traitors in the castle
itself, who set fire to it - and while the castle folk were fighting the fire,
the enemy walked in and slew nearly all of them.’
‘So
the castle was no use for living in after that, I suppose,’ said Anne. ‘But
it’s strange there isn’t even a stone to be seen anywhere.’
‘Oh,
but that’s where you’re wrong!’ said Mr Finniston, triumphantly. ‘There are
stones from the castle - all over the farm. But only I and old Great-Grand-dad
know where they are now! There’s an old wall with some of the castle stones at
the bottom - and there’s a well - but no, I mustn’t tell you these secrets. You
might tell them to the Americans who come here and buy up all our old
treasures!’
‘We
won’t! We promise!’ said both girls at once, and Timmy thumped his tail on the
floor, as if he too agreed.
‘Well,
maybe Great-Grand-dad will show you one or two of the old castle stones,’ said
Mr Finniston. ‘But I doubt it - I doubt it! I’ll tell you one thing you can see
at the farm-house, though - everybody knows about it, so it’s no secret. Have
you seen the old kitchen door, that leads out into the yard?’
‘Yes.
That oak door, studded with iron knobs, do you mean?’ said Anne at once.
‘They’re quite fashionable now as front doors in ordinary houses, you know.
Surely that farmhouse door isn’t a real old one?’
Mr
Finniston put his head into his hands and groaned as if he were in pain.
‘Fashionable!
FASHIONABLE! What will they do next? Surely you can’t mix up that fine old door
with the trashy copies you’ve seen in modern houses? What’s the world coming
to? Couldn’t you feel that that door was real - was as old as the centuries -
and once hung on great hinges in a castle? Don’t you know when things are grand
with the weight of years?’
‘Well,’
said Anne, rather out of her depth, ‘I did notice the door - but, you see, it’s
very dark just there, and we really can’t see it very clearly.’
‘Ah
well - most people go about with their eyes shut half the time!’ said Mr
Finniston. ‘You have a look at that door - feel it - look at the great knocker
on it. Think of the old Norman folk who hammered on the door with it, all those
ages ago!’
George
sighed. This kind of thing didn’t interest her as much as it interested Anne. A
thought suddenly struck her.
‘But
Mr Finniston - if the castle was built of stone - how was it burnt to the
ground?’ she said. ‘What happened?’
‘I
can’t find out,’ said Mr Finniston sadly. ‘I’ve been into every old library in
the county, and looked up every old book of that period - and I’ve delved into
the old records in Finniston church. As far as I can make out, the castle was
stormed by enemies - and, as I said, a traitor inside set fire to it at the
same time. The floors fell in, and the castle was left blazing from top to
bottom. The great walls fell inwards and covered the base - and the Finniston
family fled. Lord Finniston was killed - but his Lady took the children and hid
them - it’s said she hid them in the old chapel, near the barns of the farm.
Maybe she took them down a secret underground passage, leading from the
dungeons to the old chapel itself.’
‘An
old chapel - is it still there?’ asked Anne. ‘Or was it burnt too?’
‘No
- it wasn’t burnt. It’s still standing,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘Old
Great-Grand-dad will show you.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘It’s a
store-house for grain now. Sad, sad.
The
girls stared at him, wondering what he meant.  He stood with his head bent, saying nothing for a while. Then he
looked up.
‘Well,
that’s the story, my dears - and it’s not only a story, it’s history! It
happened over seven hundred years ago. And I’ll tell you something else...’
‘What?’
asked the two girls.
‘That
castle had cellars - and dungeons!’ said the old man. ‘The fire only burnt down
to the ground floor, which was made of earth flattened down, not wood, so it
wouldn’t burn. The cellars and dungeons can’t have been destroyed - are they
still there, undamaged? That’s what’s been in my mind all these long years.
What was down in those cellars - and is it still there?’
He
spoke in such a hollow voice that the girls felt quite scared. George recovered
herself first. ‘But why were the dungeons never uncovered?’ she asked. ‘I mean,
surely someone must have thought of them and wondered about them?’
‘Well,
when the castle fell, and the walls collapsed, any underground entrances must
have been completely covered with enormously heavy stones,’ said Mr Finniston,
peering at them earnestly. ‘The peasants and farm-hands living around couldn’t
possibly move them, and maybe they were too scared to, anyhow. They probably
lay there for years, till the wind and weather broke them up. Then they were
taken to build walls and line wells. But by that time everyone had forgotten
about dungeons. Might have been centuries later, you see.’
He
stood and brooded for a while, and the girls waited politely for him to go on.
‘Yes - everyone forgot ... and everyone still forgets,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I
wake up in the night and wonder what’s underground there. Bones of prisoners?
Chests of money? Things stored away by the Lady of the castle? I wake up and
wonder!’
Anne
felt uncomfortable. Poor old man! He lived absolutely in the past! His mind had
weaved for him a living fantasy, a story that had no certain foundation, no
real truth. She was sorry for him. She wished she could go and see the place
where the old castle had once stood! It would be overgrown with grass and
weeds, nettles would wave there, and poppies dance in the summer. There would
probably be nothing at all to show where once a proud castle had stood, its
towers high against the sky, flags flying along the battlements. She could
almost hear the cries of the enemy, galloping up on horseback, and the fearful
clash of swords! She shook herself and stood up straight.
‘I’m
as bad as this old man!’ she thought. ‘Imagining things! But what a tale! The
others will love to hear it. I wonder if the American knows it.’
‘Does
that American, Mr Henning, know the old story?’ she asked, and the old man
straightened up at once.
‘Not
the whole of it - only what he has heard in the village!’ he said. ‘He comes
here and pesters me. He’d like to bring in men and dig up the whole thing! I know
him! He’d buy up all the farm, just for the sake of getting that castle site -
if he really knew there was something worth having, deep under the ground where
it once stood.  I’ve talked too
much. I always do when someone’s upset me. Ah - to think my ancestors once
lived in Finniston Castle - and here I am now - a poor old man in a little
antique shop that nobody comes to!’
‘Well,
we’ve come to it,’ said Anne. ‘I did want to buy some horse-brasses, but I’ll
come another time. You’re upset now. You go and have a rest!’
They
went out of the little shop, almost on tiptoe! ‘My word!’ said George,
thrilled. ‘I just can’t wait to tell the boys!  I vote we find out where that old castle really
stood, and then go and have a look round. Who knows what we might find! Come
along - let’s get back to the farm as quickly as we can!’
Chapter
Ten
QUITE
A BIT OF SHOUTING
Anne
and George, with Timmy running in front, went back to the farm to find the
boys, but they couldn’t see them anywhere and gave it up. Then they went
indoors and found Mrs Philpot shelling peas. They took over the job at once.
‘The
boys are still helping to mend the henhouse,’ said Mrs Philpot. “The Harries
are pleased to have two more pairs of hands to help them! Something always
seems to need repairing! If only we could get a few things we need so badly - a
new tractor, for instance. But they cost so much! The barns want mending too,
and the hen-houses are almost falling down!’
‘I
hope the harvest will be good for you,’ said Anne. ‘That will help, won’t it?’
‘Oh
yes - we’ll keep our fingers crossed for fine weather from now on!’ said Mrs
Philpot. ‘Thank goodness the cows are such good milkers! What we should do
without our milk-money, I really don’t know! But there - why should I bother
you with my troubles when you’re here for a nice holiday!’
‘You
don’t bother us - and we think it’s awfully nice of you to let us help,’ said
Anne. ‘We shouldn’t like it if you didn’t!’
The
girls had no chance of telling the boys what old Mr Finniston had told them,
until the afternoon came. They were up at the henhouses with the two Harries
and Snippet, happily hammering and sawing. Snippet was delighted to have so
many people whistling cheerily round him, and busily took bits of wood from one
boy to another, under the mistaken impression that he was a great help!
Nosey
the jackdaw was there too, but he wasn’t nearly so popular as Snippet! He
pounced on any bright nail or screw he saw, and flew off with it, heedless of
the exasperated shouts that followed him.
‘Blow
that jackdaw!’ said Julian, looking up crossly. ‘He’s just taken the very nail
I wanted! Nosey by name and nosey by nature!’
The
twins laughed. They seemed entirely different children now that they were
friendly - amusing, helpful and most responsible. Julian and Dick admired them
- no work was too hard, no hours were too long if they could help their mother
or father.
‘We
hated you coming here because we knew it would give Mother so much more work,’
said Harry. ‘We thought if we were beastly to you, you’d go. But you don’t make
more work! You help an awful lot. It’s fun to have you here.’
‘I
hope the girls are back,’ said Dick. ‘I know your mother wants help with the
peas - such a lot of people to shell for - let me see - counting in your
Great-Grand-dad, there will be about a dozen people in to dinner. Whew! I
certainly do hope the girls are in. Ah - here comes that nosey jackdaw again.
Look out, Dick, he’s after those screws. Snippet, chase him!’
Away
went the tiny poodle after the cheeky jackdaw, barking in his high little
voice, thoroughly enjoying having so many children round him. Nosey flew up on
to the top of the hen-house, and flapped his wings, chacking rude things in a
very loud voice indeed.
Dinner
was rather a crowded meal, for everyone was there. Great-Grand-dad frowned when
he saw Mr Henning come in with Junior. Junior strutted to his place at table,
giving George his best scowl. However, she was just as good at scowling as
Junior, and Mr Henning, who happened to catch sight of her giant-size scowl,
had quite a shock.
‘Now,
now, my boy,’ he said to her.
Nobody
told him that George was a girl. Mrs Philpot was really very much amused. She
liked George, and couldn’t help thinking she would have made a very good boy
indeed!
‘Er
- Mrs Philpot - would it be all right if I bring a friend to lunch here
tomorrow?’ asked Mr Henning. ‘He’s called Durleston - Mr Durleston - and he’s a
great authority on antiques. He’s going to give me some advice. You’ll remember
that you told me you had a quaint old hole in the wall in one of the bedrooms -
where in the old days people used to heat embers for warming-pans, and bricks
to put in between the bed-sheets. I thought I...’
‘You
thought you could buy ’em, I suppose!’ suddenly shouted old Great-Grand-dad
from his place at the head of the table. He thumped on the cloth with the
handle of his knife. ‘Well, you ask my permission first, see? This place is
still mine. I’m an old man, I’m nearly ninety, but I’ve still got all my wits
about me. I don’t like this selling of things that have been in our family for
donkeys’ years! That I don’t! And...’
‘Now,
now, Grand-dad, don’t excite yourself,’ said Mrs Philpot, in her gentle voice.
‘Surely it’s better to sell old things that we shall never use, in order to buy
a new set of tools, or wood to mend the barns?’
‘Why
can t we sell ’em to our own folks, then?’ shouted Great-Grand-dad, banging
with his fork as well. ‘Taking them out of the country! Part of our history,
they are! Selling our birthright, that’s what we’re doing - for a mess of
pottage! That’s out of the Bible, let me tell you, Mr Henning, in case you
don’t know.’
‘SHURE
I KNOW,’ said Mr Henning, getting up and shouting back at Great-Grand-dad. ‘I’m
not as ignorant as you seem to think. You ought to be glad that a poor,
run-down, back-dated country like Britain has got anything to sell to a fine
upstanding one like America! You...’
‘That’s
enough, Mr Henning,’ said Mrs Philpot, with such dignity that Mr Henning
blushed red, and sat down in a great hurry. ‘Sorry, mam,’ he said. ‘But that
old man, he gets under my skin. Sure he does! What’s gotten into him? All I want
is to buy things you want to sell. You want new tractors - I want old junk and
I’m willing to pay for it. That’s all there is to it - buying and selling!’
OLD
JUNK!’ shouted Great-Grand-dad again, banging with his glass now. ‘Do you call
that great old cart-wheel you bought OLD JUNK? Why, that’s more than two
hundred years old! My Great-Grand-dad made it - he told me so, when I was a
mite of a boy. You won’t find another wheel like it in England. HOO - that
wheel was made before the first American was born! I tell you...’
‘Now,
now, Grand-dad, you know you’ll feel ill if you go on like this,’ said Mrs
Philpot, and she got up and went to the old man, who was shaking with fury.
 But things change, you know. Calm yourself, and come with me and have a
lie-down.’
Surprisingly,
the old fellow allowed Mrs Philpot to lead him out of the room. The seven
children had all sat silent while the shouting had been going on. Mr Philpot,
looking worried, broke his habitual silence and addressed a few words to the
equally worried-looking Mr Henning.
‘Storm
in a tea-cup,’ he said. ‘Soon blow over.’
‘Hmmmm,’
said Mr Henning. ‘Spoilt my dinner! Selfish, ignorant, rude old man.’
‘He’s
not,’ said one of the twins, in a voice trembling with anger. ‘He’s...’
‘Enough,
Harry!’ said his father, in such a stern voice, that Harry subsided at once,
but began to grind his teeth, to show that he was still angry, making a most
remarkable noise at the now silent table. Junior had sat as still as a mouse
all the time, scared of the angry old man. Timmy had given a few small growls,
and Snippet had shot straight out of the kitchen as soon as Great-Grand-dad had
begun to shout!
Mrs
Philpot came back, and sat down, looking sad and tired. Julian began to talk to
her about Janie and the macaroons, and soon succeeded in making her smile. She
even laughed out loud when George told her that they had six macaroons to give
Bill for taking them out in the Land-Rover.
‘I
know those macaroons,’ announced Junior. ‘I buy about thirty a week. They’re
just wunnerful!’
‘Thirty!
No wonder you’re so pasty-faced, then,’ said George, before she could stop
herself.
‘Aw
shucks! Pasty-face yourself!’ retorted Junior, feeling safe with his father
near him.
He
heard a sudden ominous growl under the table, felt hot breath on his bare leg,
and decided to say no more. He had forgotten all about the watchful Timmy!
Julian
thought it was about time to have some bright conversation, and began to tell
Mrs Philpot about the hen-houses and what a good job they were making of
patching them to make them rain-proof. Mr Philpot listened too, nodded, and
actually joined in.
‘Yes
- you’re good with your hands, you boys. I had a look when I came by. Fine
work!’
‘Harriet’s
good, too,’ said Harry at once. ‘She did that corner where the rats get in.
Didn’t you, Harry?’
‘I
wanted to help, Pop, but they shooed me off, like I was a hen!’ said Junior in
an aggrieved tone. ‘Seems as if they don’t want me around. That makes it pretty
lonely, Pop. Can’t I come out with you this afternoon?’
‘No,’
said Pop, shortly.
‘Aw,
c’mon, Pop,’ said Junior, in a whiny voice. ‘Aw shucks, Pop, lemme come!’
‘NO!’
said Pop, exasperated. Timmy gave a growl again. He didn’t like cross voices.
He couldn’t imagine why there was so much quarrelling here, and sat up, tense
and still, until George gave him a gentle push with her toe.
Everyone
was glad when the meal was over, delicious though the food had been. The girls
and Harriet insisted that Mrs Philpot should go and have a rest while they did
all the clearing-away and washing-up. ‘Now try not to be unkind to Junior this
afternoon,’ she said, as she went. ‘He’ll be all alone when his father’s gone.
Do let him be with you.’
Nobody
answered. They hadn’t the least intention of allowing Junior to be with them.
‘Spoilt, bad-mannered little idiot!’ thought George, clearing away with such
vigour that she almost knocked Anne over.
‘Julian,’
she said in a low voice, catching him at the door as he went out, ‘Anne and I
have something interesting to tell you. Where will you be this afternoon?’
‘Up
in the hen-houses, I expect,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll watch out for you and Anne.
See you in about half an hour.”
Junior
had sharp ears. He heard exactly what George had said, and he was full of
curiosity at once. What was this interesting thing George wanted to tell the
boys? Was it a secret? All right - he’d be on hand somewhere to hear it!
And
so, when the girls had finished their work, and set off to the hen-houses,
Junior followed discreetly behind! He kept well out of sight until he saw
George and Anne disappear into a henhouse, where the others were working - and
then he crept to a corner outside and put his ear to a knot-hole in the wood.
I’ll get my own back now! he thought. I’ll make them smart for leaving me out
of things! Just see if I don’t!
Chapter
Eleven
A
MOST EXCITING TALK
The
boys were busy hammering and sawing and the girls sat and waited till the noise
died down. Snippet was there, leaping about ridiculously with little bits of
wood in his mouth, and Nosey the jackdaw had suddenly taken a fancy to the
shavings that now covered the floor, and ran about chacking, and picking them
up.
Outside
the hens clucked and squawked, and not far off the ducks quacked loudly. ‘Those
are the kind of noises I like to hear,’ said Anne, settling herself on a sack
in a corner. She raised her voice and shouted above the hammering to Dick.
‘WANT ANY HELP, DICK?’
‘No
thanks,’ said Dick. ‘We’ll just finish this job, then sit down and have a rest,
and listen to what you have to say. You sit and watch our wonderful
carpentering! Honestly, I’d make pounds a week if I took it up!’
‘Look
out - Nosey has got your nails again!’ shouted George. Timmy leapt up as if he
was going to chase Nosey, and the jackdaw promptly flew up to a crossbeam, and
sat there chacking with laughter. Timmy thought him a very exasperating bird
indeed. He lay down again with a thump.
 ‘Well, now you can tell us your news,’ said
Dick. ‘Good thing we got rid of that little pest of a Junior - I might have
hammered a few nails into him by mistake if he’d come worrying us this
afternoon.’ He imitated Junior’s whining drawl. ‘Aw, shucks, Pop, lemme come
with yew!’
Outside,
his ear to the hole, Junior clenched his fists. He would willingly have stuck a
few nails into Dick at that moment!
George
and Anne began to tell the four listening children what old Mr Finniston had
told them that morning. ‘It’s about Finniston Castle,’ said Anne. ‘The old
castle that gave the village its name - and the farm as well. The old fellow
who told us about it is called Finniston, too - and will you believe it, he’s a
descendant of the Finnistons who lived in the castle centuries ago!’
‘He
seems to have spent most of his life trying to discover everything possible
about the old castle,’ said George. ‘He said he’d delved into old libraries -
and into the church records here - anywhere that might help him to piece
together the castle’s history!’
Outside
the hen-house, Junior held his breath so as not to miss a single word. Why -
his Pop had told him that he couldn’t get anything out of that old Mr Finniston
at the antique shop - not a word about the castle, and its history, or even
where the site was. Then why had he told Anne, and that horrible boy George?
Junior felt angry, and listened even more keenly.
‘The
story goes that in the twelfth century enemies came to attack the castle one
night - and there were traitors already inside it, who set it on fire, so that
the castle-folk would be busy trying to put out the fire, and wouldn’t be prepared
for a fight,’ said George. ‘The inside of it was burnt right down to the ground
- and then the great stone walls outside collapsed inwards, and lay in enormous
heaps there, covering the place where the castle had stood.’
‘Whew!’
said Dick, visualizing it all. ‘What a night that must have been! Everybody
killed or burnt, I suppose?’
‘No,
the Lady of the castle wasn’t killed and it is said that she took her children
to the little chapel near the farm-house - we really must go and see that,
twins - and they stayed there in safety. Anyway, some of the family must have
escaped, because it is one of their descendants who keeps that little antique
shop - old Mr Finniston!’
‘This
is tremendously interesting,’ said Julian. ‘Where’s the site of the castle? It should
easily be known, because of the great mass of stones that fell there when the
walls collapsed.’
‘No,
they’re not there now,’ said George. ‘Mr Finniston said he thought that when
the wind and weather had broken them up small enough to be lugged away by the
farmers and peasants living near by, they were taken to build field walls, or
to line wells. He said there were some on this farm. He didn’t know himself
where the castle once stood, because the site would be all grown over, and with
no stones left to mark it, it wouldn’t be easy to find.’
‘But
oh, Julian, I wish we could find it!’ cried Anne, her voice rising in
excitement. ‘Because, so Mr Finniston says, the cellars and dungeons are
probably still there, quite untouched. You see, no one could uncover them for
years, because of the heavy stones there - and when the stones were taken away,
people had forgotten about the castle and the dungeons!’
‘Gosh!
So they may still be there - with whatever was stored in them hundreds of years
ago,’ said Dick, thrilled. ‘My word - there might be priceless things there, as
old as the hills! I mean, even an old broken sword would be worth its weight in
gold, because it would be so very very old.  ‘He shan’t get to hear a word of this.’
Alas!
George little knew that every single word had been overheard by Junior, whose
left ear was still pinned to the knot-hole in the wood! His face was red with
surprise and delight. WHAT a secret! Whatever would his Pop say? Dungeons!
Perhaps full of gold and jewels and all kinds of things! He rubbed his hands
together in delight, thinking that he would soon get even with these annoying
children now - as soon as his Pop came home, he’d spill everything to him.
GEE!
Timmy
heard the small sound of Junior rubbing his hands together, and sat up,
growling, his ears pricked. Snippet growled too, a miniature little sound that
nobody took seriously. Timmy then heard Junior creeping away, afraid because he
had heard the big dog growling. Timmy growled again, and then barked sharply,
running to the shut door of the hen-house, scraping at it with his foot.
‘Somebody’s
outside - quick! If it’s Junior, I’ll throw him on to the muck-heap!’ yelled
Dick, and flung open the door. They all trooped out and looked round - but
there was nobody there! Junior had shot off at top speed, and was now safely
behind the nearest hedge.
‘What
was it, Tim?’ said George. She turned to the others. ‘He may have heard those
hens scratching near the door,’ she said. ‘There’s no one about. Gosh, I was so
afraid that it was that little sneak of a Junior! He’d tell his Pop every
single thing!’
‘Twins,
listen - Mr Finniston told us that one of the things that was saved from the
castle - or found afterwards, perhaps - was a great old oak door,
iron-studded,’ said Anne, suddenly remembering. ‘Is that one of your kitchen
doors?’
‘Yes
- that must be the door leading into the dark little passage,’ said Harry. ‘You
wouldn’t have noticed it particularly, because it’s usually kept open, and it’s
very dark just there. Gosh, I suppose it could have come from the castle. It’s
enormously thick and strong. I wonder if Dad knows.’
‘We’ll
tell him,’ said Harriet. ‘I say - shall we go and look for the site of the
castle sometime? If only we could find it! Do you suppose that if we found the
cellars and dungeons, full of chests and things, they’d belong to us? The farm
belongs to our family, of course, and all the land round.’
‘Does
it? Well then, of course anything found on this land would be yours!’ said
Julian.
‘We
might be able to buy a new tractor!’ said the twins, both together, in the same
excited voice.
‘Let’s
go and look for the castle-site now,’ said George, her voice sounding so
excited that Timmy sat up and barked.
‘No.
We must finish this job,’ said Julian. ‘We promised we would. There’s plenty of
time to hunt around, because nobody knows about this except us.’
Julian
was wrong, of course. Junior knew - and Junior meant to tell the whole secret
to his father as soon as ever he could! He could hardly wait for him to come
home.
‘Well,
we’d better be getting back to the house,’ said George. ‘We told Mrs Philpot
we’d pick some raspberries for supper tonight, so we’d better fetch baskets,
and begin. Oh, I do HOPE we find that castle-site. I shall dream about it
tonight, I know I shall.’
‘Well,
try and dream where it is,’ said Julian, with a laugh. ‘Then you can lead us
straight to it tomorrow morning. I suppose you haven’t any idea where it might
be, have you, twins?’
‘No,’
they said together, frowning. ‘No idea at all!’ And Harriet added, ‘You see,
the farm’s so big - and I suppose it might have been built anywhere on our
land.’
‘Yes
- but probably near the top of a hill,’ said Julian. ‘Castles used to overlook
surrounding land, you know, so that approaching enemies could easily be seen.
And then again, George said Mr Finniston told them that the Lady of the castle
escaped with her children and took them in safety to the chapel, which wouldn’t
be very far away. I should guess that the castle-site must be not further than
a quarter of a mile from the chapel, so that narrows the search down a bit. By
the way, we really must look at that chapel - it sounds interesting, even
though it has been used as a store-house for years!’
The
girls picked raspberries for the rest of the afternoon, and the boys finished
their jobs. They went back to the farm-house for tea, feeling pleasantly tired.
The girls were already there, laying the table. They pounced on the twins, and
George spoke excitedly.
‘Twins!
We’ve been looking at the old studded door. It’s MAGNIFICENT! Come and see it,
Julian and Dick. If it isn’t from the old castle, I’ll eat my hat - and my shoes
as well!’
She
took them to the great door that opened from the kitchen into the passage that
led to the yard. With much difficulty she swung it shut. They all gazed at it.
It had been almost too heavy for George to move! It was very stout and strong,
made of old, old oak. Great iron studs had been driven into it so deeply and
firmly that only by destroying the door itself could they ever be removed.
There was a curious iron handle in the middle of the outer side, and George
raised it and brought it down smartly. A loud bang resounded through the
kitchen, and made the others jump.
‘The
knocker that visitors used when they came to the castle, I suppose!’ said
George, laughing at their surprised faces. ‘Noise enough to rouse everyone, and
alert any guard at once. Do you suppose it was the front door of the castle -
it’s big enough! It must be worth hundreds of pounds!’
‘Look
out - there’s Junior!’ said Anne, in a low voice. ‘He’s grinning all over his
face. What do you suppose he’s been up to? I wish I knew!’
Chapter
Twelve
REALLY
VERY THRILLING
Ar
teatime Julian spoke to Mrs Philpot about the old kitchen door. ‘That’s a fine
old door,’ he said. ‘Did it come from the castle, do you suppose?’
‘Yes
- so it’s said,’ answered Mrs Philpot. ‘Great-Grand-dad here knows more about
it than I do, though.’
Great-Grand-dad
was not at the table. He was sitting in his enormous old chair in the window
with Snippet at his feet. He was pulling contentedly at his pipe, a cup of tea
on the window-sill beside him.
‘What’s
that?’ called the old man. ‘Speak up!’ Julian repeated what Mrs Philpot had
said, and the old fellow nodded.
‘Oh
ay! That door’s from the castle all right. Made of the same oak as the beams in
the barns, and the floors of the bedrooms above! Ay, and that American fellow’s
been at me about it, too! Ho! Offered me fifty pounds for it. FIFTY POUNDS! I
wouldn’t take a thousand. What - have that old door hanging in some newfangled
house out in that American country, wherever it is? NO. I say NO, and I’ll say
it till I’m blue in the face!’
‘All
right, Grand-dad - don’t upset yourself,’ said Mrs Philpot. She spoke to Julian
in a low voice. ‘Change the subject, quickly, or Grand-dad will go on and on,
poor old fellow!’
Julian
racked his brain for a change of subject, and fortunately remembered the
hen-houses. He at once began to tell Great-Grand-dad all they had done that
afternoon, and the old fellow calmed down at once, and listened with pleasure.
Snippet, who had run in fright to the twins as soon as Great-Grand-dad had
begun to shout, ran back to him, and settled on his feet. Timmy also decided to
join them, and soon Great-Grand-dad was completely happy again, drawing on his
old pipe, with one dog at his feet, the other resting a great head on his knee.
Timmy certainly did love Great-Grand-dad!
Mr
Henning did not come back that night, much to everyone’s relief, but arrived
next day just before lunch, bringing with him a dried-up little fellow wearing
thick glasses, whom he introduced as Mr Richard Durleston.
‘The
great Mr Durleston!’ he said proudly. ‘Knows more about old houses in England
than anyone else in the country. I’d like him to see that old door after lunch,
Mrs Philpot - and that queer opening in the wall of the bedroom upstairs, which
was used to heat embers and bricks for warming beds years ago.’
Fortunately
Great-Grand-dad was not there to object, and after they had had dinner, Mrs
Philpot took Mr Durleston to the old studded door. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘Quite
genuine. Very fine specimen. I should offer two hundred pounds, Mr Henning.’
How
Mrs Philpot longed to accept such an offer! What a difference it would make to
her housekeeping! She shook her head. ‘You’d have to talk to old
Great-Grand-dad,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid he’ll say no. Now I’ll take you to
see the queer old opening up in one of the bedrooms.’
She
took Mr Henning and Mr Durleston upstairs, and the four followed, with Timmy.
It was indeed a strange opening in the wall! It had a wrought-iron door rather
like an old oven door. Mrs Philpot opened it. Inside was a big cavity, which
had obviously been used as a kind of oven to heat bricks for placing into cold
beds; some of the old bricks were actually still there, blackened with long-ago
heating! Mrs Philpot took out what looked like a heavy iron tray with an
ornamented raised edge. On it were old, old embers!
‘This
tray was used for heating and holding the embers before they were put into
warming-pans,’ she said. ‘We still have one old warming-pan left - there on the
wall, look.’
The
four, just as interested as the two men, looked at the copper warming-pan,
glowing red-gold on the wall. ‘The red-hot embers were emptied into that,’ Mrs
Phil-pot told the children, ‘and then the pan was carried by its long handle
into all the bedrooms, and thrust into each bed for a few minutes to warm it.
And that funny little opening in the wall is, as I said, where people years and
years ago heated the embers - and the bricks too, which were wrapped in flannel
and left in each bed.’
‘Hmmmmm.
Very interesting. Quite rare to see one in such a well-preserved state,’ said
Mr Durleston, peering into the opening through thick glasses. ‘You could make
an offer for this too, Mr Henning. Interesting old place. We’ll have a look at
the barns too, I think, and the outbuildings. Might be a few things there you
could pick up with advantage.’
George
thought it was a good thing the twins were not with them to hear all this. They
seemed to share with their Great-Grand-dad a hatred of parting with any of the
treasures belonging to the old farm-house!
Mrs
Philpot took the two men downstairs again, and the four followed.
‘I’ll
just take Mr Durleston to the old chapel, mam,’ said Mr Henning, and Mrs
Philpot nodded. She left them and hurried back into the kitchen, where she had
a cake baking. The four looked at one another, and Julian nodded his head
towards the two men, now making their way out of doors. ‘Shall we go too?’ he
said. ‘We haven’t seen this chapel yet, either!’
So
they followed the two men, and soon came to a tall, quaint old building with
small and beautiful arched windows set high up in the walls. They went in at
the door, a few paces behind the two men, and stared in wonder.
‘Yes
- you can see it was once a chapel!’ said Julian, speaking instinctively in a
low voice. ‘Those lovely old windows - that arch there...’
‘And
the feel of it!’ said Anne. ‘I know now what old Mr Finniston down at that
little shop meant, when he said that though it was now a store-house, it was
still full of prayer! You can feel that people have been here to pray, can’t
you?  Oh, I do wish it wasn’t used as a
store-house!’
‘I
was told by an old fellow down in the village antique shop that a Lady
Phillippa, who was once the Lady of the castle, brought each of her fifteen
children here to learn their prayers,’ said Mr Durleston, surprisingly. ‘Hmm,
hmm - nice old story. Probably true. Chapels were often built near to castles.
Wonder which path they took from the castle to the chapel. All gone now, no
castle, nothing! Hmm, hmm.’
‘I’d
like to buy this chapel, knock it down, and take it stone by stone to my place
in the States,’ said the American enthusiastically. ‘Fine specimen, isn’t it?
It would look wunnerful in my place.’
‘Can’t
advise that,’ said Mr Durleston, shaking his head. ‘Not in good taste. Let’s go
to those out-buildings yonder. Might see something in the old junk there.’
They
went off, and the children stayed behind, entranced with the little chapel.
Sacks upon sacks of grain and what looked like fertilizer were arranged in rows
all over the floor. A cat had three kittens cuddled together on one sack, and a
dove cooed somewhere high up in the arched roof. It was a very peaceful sound,
somehow just right for the silent little place. The children trooped out
quietly, not feeling inclined to follow the brash Mr Henning round any more.
‘At
least the other man stopped him from his mad idea of removing the chapel stone
by stone,’ said Anne. ‘I couldn’t bear that beautiful old place to be torn up
by its roots and replanted somewhere else.’
‘You
sound quite angry, Anne - almost as fierce as old Great-Grand-dad!’ said
Julian, slipping his arm through his sister’s. ‘I don’t somehow think the old
chapel will be sold to Mr Henning - even if he offered a million dollars for
it!’
‘Well,
I like most Americans very much,’ said Anne. ‘But not Mr Henning. He - he wants
to buy history just as if it were chocolate or toffee!’
That
made the others laugh. ‘I say!’ said Julian, ‘what about having a snoop round,
now we’re out, and just see if we can decide where to hunt for the site of the
castle? I presume we all agree that it can’t be very far away from the chapel?’
‘Yes
- that’s agreed,’ said Dick. ‘And it’s also agreed that the site is probably on
a hill. The snag is that there are rather a lot of hills on this undulating
farmland!’
‘Let’s
make our way over there - up the nearest slope,’ said George. ‘Hallo, here are
the twins. We’ll call them. They might like to come.’
The
twins soon joined them, and said yes, they would certainly like to hunt for the
castle-site. ‘But it might take years!’ said Harry. ‘It might be anywhere on
the farm!’
‘Well,
we plan to examine this first slope,’ said Julian. ‘Heel, Tim, heel, Snippet.
Oh gosh, here’s Nosey the jackdaw too. NOT on my shoulder, if you don’t mind,
Nosey. I rather value my ears!’
‘Chack!’
said the jackdaw, and flew to the twins.
They
made their way up the slope. There was, however, absolutely nothing to be seen
except grass, grass, grass! They came to a big mound and stood looking at it.
‘A
very large mole must have made that!’ said Dick, which made them all laugh, for
the mound was as high as their shoulders. Rabbit-holes could be seen at the
bottom, though it was probable that very few burrowed there now - the great
rabbit-disease, myxomatosis had wiped them practically out of existence on
Finniston Farm.
Timmy
couldn’t see a rabbit-hole without scraping at it, and soon he and Snippet were
scattering earth over everyone. Snippet was small enough to disappear into one
hole, and came out carrying - of all things - an oyster shell! Julian took it
out of his mouth in amazement.
‘Look
here - an oyster shell - and we’re miles from the sea. How did it get there? Go
in again, Snippet. Scrape hard, Timmy. Buck up! An idea is glimmering in my
brain!’
Before
long, what with Timmy’s excited scraping and Snippet’s explorations deep into
the burrow, quite a collection of oyster shells, and small and large bones, lay
on the grass!
‘Bones!’
said Anne. ‘Not bones of people surely! Don’t tell me this is a mound covering
an old grave or something, Ju.’
‘No.
But it is something rather exciting!’ said Julian, ‘I’m pretty sure it’s an old
kitchen-midden.’
‘A
kitchen-midden? What on earth’s that?’ said George. ‘Oh look - Timmy’s got
another mouthful of oyster shells!’
‘A
kitchen-midden is what you might call the rubbish-heap of the old days,’
explained Julian, picking up some oyster shells, ‘It was often very big, when
it comprised the rubbish thrown out from large houses - or castles! Things like
bones and shells wouldn’t rot away like other rubbish - and I do believe we’ve
found the kitchen-midden of the old castle. My word - what a find! Now we know
something very important!’
‘What?
asked everyone, in excitement.
‘Well
- we know now that the site of the castle must be somewhere on this slope!’
said Julian. ‘The kitchen-midden was probably not far from its walls. We’re on
the scent, scouts, we’re on the scent! Come on - let’s go further on. Spread
out. Examine every inch of the ground!’
Chapter
Thirteen
JUNIOR
SPRINGS A SURPRISE!
The
six children felt a sudden upsurge of excitement, and Timmy felt it too and
barked loudly. Snippet joined in, and the jackdaw danced up and down on Harry’s
shoulder, chacking hoarsely. Junior, who had seen them start out and was
tracking them, stared in surprise from behind a bush in a nearby hedge. NOW
what was all the excitement about? What had Timmy and Snippet found?
He
saw the six children spread out and begin to go slowly up the great slope of
the hill. Timmy followed them, rather puzzled. He wished he knew what they were
looking for - then he could hunt too! Junior kept safely behind the bush. He
knew that if he followed too closely after the children, Timmy would hear him,
and bark.
Suddenly
the Harries gave a shout. ‘Hey!’ The others looked up from their search, and
saw them beckoning in excitement. ‘What about THIS? Come and look!’
Everyone
hurried over to the twins, who were standing on a little ridge about two
hundred yards below the top of the gently sloping hill. ‘Look!’ said Harry,
sweeping his arm in a circle. ‘Would this be a likely place for the
castle-site?’
The
four looked at the great shallow depression that the twins pointed to. In shape
it was like a very shallow soup-plate, certainly big enough for a castle to
have been built there! It was covered with thick, closely-growing grass, which
was a little darker in colour than the grass around.
Julian
clapped Harry on the shoulder. ‘Yes! I bet this is where the castle once stood!
Why should the ground here suddenly have this great depression in it, as if it
had sunk down, for some reason? The only reason could be that some enormously
heavy building once stood here - and it must have been the castle!’
‘It’s
not too far from the kitchen-midden, where they threw their rubbish, is it?’
asked Anne, anxiously, looking back to see how far away that was.
‘No
- just about right,’ said Julian. ‘They would be sure to have it some distance
away, because it would smell, especially in the hot weather. Yes, twins - I
think you really have hit on the castle-site - and I bet if we had the
machinery to excavate here, we’d come across dungeons, cellars, underground
passages - and all they contain!’
The
twins went red with excitement, and stared solemnly at the great basin-like
circle, green with grass. ‘What will our mother say?’ they said, both together.
‘Plenty!’
said Dick. ‘This might be the saving of your farm! But look - let’s not say a
word about it yet, in case it gets round to Mr Henning. Let’s get Bill and ask
him if he’ll lend us spades and things. We’ll tell him we’ve found some
interesting old shells and bones on the hill and want to do a little digging.
We’ll soon know if this really is the site of the castle.’
‘Good
idea,’ said Julian, excited at the thought of being one of the first to dig
down into the old dungeons! ‘Let’s pace round this old site and see how big it
is.’
They
walked round and round it and decided it was more than big enough for even a
large castle. They thought it was strange that the grass should be a different
colour there.
‘But
it does sometimes happen that grass marks out where old buildings once stood,’
said Julian. ‘I say - this is just about the most exciting thing that ever
happened to us - and I’m so glad it was the twins who first recognized the
site! After all, it’s on their farm!’
‘Isn’t
that Junior, running over there?’ said George suddenly, as she saw Timmy prick
up his ears, and turn his nose to the wind. ‘Yes, it is. He’s been spying on
us, the little beast! There he goes, look!’
‘Well,
he can’t know much,’ said Julian, gazing after the running figure. ‘I don’t
expect he even knows that a castle was once built here, at the top of this hill
- and he certainly wouldn’t know we were looking for the site. He’s just
snooping, that’s all.’
But
Junior did know all about the old castle, for he had overheard the children
talking in the hen-house! And he did know what they had been looking for! He
had followed them as closely as he dared, listening to their shouts - and now
he felt that he must get back to his father and tell him what he knew!
He
found his father still with Mr Durleston, examining an old fireplace. ‘Now
that’s worth buying,’ Mr Durleston was saying. ‘You could rip that out, and use
it in your own house - a beautiful thing! Very old! And...’
‘Pop!
I say, Pop! Listen!’ cried Junior, bursting in. Mr Durleston looked annoyed.
That boy again! But Junior took no notice of the old man’s annoyance, and
pulled urgently at his father’s arm. ‘Dad! I know where the place is that the
castle once stood on!  Pop, those kids found the place, but they don’t
know I saw them!’
‘What
is all this, Junior?’ said his father, half-annoyed too. ‘Silly talk! You don’t
know anything about castle-sites and dungeons and the rest!’
‘I
do, I do! I heard them all talking in the henhouse - I told you I did!’ cried
Junior, tugging at his father’s sleeve again.‘Pop, they’ve found an old
rubbish-heap too, that belonged to the castle - they called it a - a - let me
see now - a...’
‘A
midden?’ asked Mr Durleston, suddenly taking an interest.
‘Yes!
That’s it. A kitchen-midden!’ said Junior triumphantly. ‘With bones and shells.
And then they looked for where the old castle might have been built - they said
it couldn’t have been far away, and...’
‘Well,
they were right,’ said Mr Durleston. ‘A kitchen-midden would certainly
pin-point the castle area! Mr Henning, this is extremely interesting. If you
could get permission to excavate, it would be a...’
‘Oh
BOY!’ said Mr Henning, interrupting, his eyes almost starting out of his head.
‘Can’t you see the papers - “American discovers old castle-site - unknown for
centuries! Excavates dungeons - find bones of long-ago prisoners - chests of
gold coins...” ’
‘Not
so fast, not so fast,’ said Mr Durleston, disapprovingly. ‘There may be nothing
at all there. Let us not count our chickens before they’re hatched. And mind -
not a word to the newspapers, Henning. We don’t want a crowd of people rushing
to pry over the farm, sending up its price!’
‘I
didn’t think of that,’ said Mr Henning, a little cast-down. ‘All right - we’ll
go carefully. What do you advise?’
‘I
should advise you to approach Mr Philpot - not the old Great-Grand-dad, but the
farmer himself - and offer to put down, say, £250 for the right to excavate up
on the hill there,’ said Mr Durleston. ‘Then if you strike anything
interesting, you can offer a further sum for whatever’s down there - say
another £250. If there is anything there, it will be extremely valuable - so
very, very old. Hmmm. Hmmm. Yes, that is my advice to you.’
‘And
it sounds pretty good to me,’ said Mr Henning, excitement flooding him again.
 ‘I think it
would perhaps be advisable if I approached Mr Philpot, Mr Henning, not you. You
might - er - well - give something away in your excitement. You will come with
me, of course - but let me do the talking.’
‘Right,
old man, you do everything!’ said Mr Henning, feeling friendly with the whole
world. He clapped the listening Junior on the back. ‘Well done, son! You may
have let us into something good.  ‘What do you think I am? My mouth’s sewn up from now on!
Think I’d split, Pop, when there’s a chance of getting even with those snooty
kids?  Mr
Durleston will know if it’s the real thing or not!’
So,
when the six children and dogs were safely out of sight, gone to help with
various jobs of work on the farm, Mr Henning and Mr Durleston went with Junior
to see the kitchen-midden and the supposed site of the old castle. Mr Henning
became very excited indeed, and even the weary-looking Mr Durleston brightened
up and nodded his head several times.
‘Looks
the real thing!’ he said. ‘Yes, we’ll get going this evening - after that
fierce old fellow - the old Great-Grand-dad - has gone to bed. He might put a
spoke in our wheels. He’s as old as the hills, but as cute as a jackdaw!’
And
so, that evening, when Great-Grand-dad was safely in bed, Mr Henning and Mr
Durleston had a private, very private talk with Mr and Mrs Philpot together.
The farmer and his wife listened, amazed. When they heard that Mr Henning
proposed to hand them a cheque for £250 merely for the right to do a little
digging, Mrs Philpot almost cried!
‘And
I have advised Mr Henning that he should offer you further sums, if he finds
anything he would like to take back to the States with him, as - er - as
mementos of a very pleasant stay here,’ finished Mr Durleston.
‘It
sounds too good to to be true,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘We could certainly do with
the money, couldn’t we, Trevor?’
Mr
Henning took out his cheque book and produced his fountain-pen, before Mr
Philpot could say anything else. He wrote out the sum of £250, and signed the
cheque with a flourish. He then presented it to Mr Philpot.
‘And
I hope there’ll be more cheques to come,’ he said. ‘Thank you, sir - I’ll get
men along tomorrow to start digging.’
‘I’ll
have a formal agreement drawn up,’ put in Mr Durleston, thinking that he saw a
rather doubtful look coming over Mr Philpot’s face, as he took the cheque. ‘But
you can cash the cheque straight away. Well, we’ll leave you to talk over it!’
When
the twins and the four heard of this, the next morning, they were astounded.
Mrs Philpot told the twins first, and Harry and Harriet ran at once to find the
others. They listened, amazed and angry.
‘How
did they know all that? How did they guess where to find the castle-site?’ said
Dick, fiercely. ‘I bet it’s that snoopy little Junior who put them on to this!
I bet he spied on us! I thought I saw two people up on that hill after tea
yesterday. It must have been Mr Henning and that friend of his - with Junior.
Gosh, I could pull that kid’s hair out!’
‘Well,
I suppose there’s absolutely nothing we can do now!’ said George, angrily. ‘The
next thing we’ll see is lorries rolling up with men inside, and spades and
drills and goodness knows what!’
She
was quite right! That very morning the hill became quite a busy place! Four men
had already been hired by Mr Henning, and they all went up the hill in their
lorry, bumping slowly along, past the kitchenmidden mound, and on up to the
shallow basin-like depression near the summit of the hill. Spades, forks and
drills rattled in the lorry. Junior was mad with joy, and danced about at a
safe distance, yelling defiance at the six children.
‘You
thought I didn’t know anything, didn’t you! I heard everything! Serves you
right! Yah!’
‘Timmy
- chase him!’ ordered George, in a furious voice. ‘But don’t hurt him, mind. Go
on!’
And
off went Timmy at a gallop, and if Junior hadn’t leapt into the lorry and
picked up a spade, Timmy would certainly have rolled him over and over on the
ground!
Now
what was to be done? The children almost gave up - but not quite! There might
be something they could do - there might! Why was Julian suddenly looking so
excited?
Chapter
Fourteen
SNIPPET
AND NOSEY ARE VERY HELPFUL!
‘LISTEN!’
said Julian, lowering his voice, and looking all about to make sure that no one
was near. ‘Do you remember what you told us, George, about a secret passage
from the castle to the old chapel?’
‘Yes!
Yes! I do!’ said George, and Anne nodded, her eyes bright. ‘You mean the story
that old Mr Finniston told us, down at the little antique shop, about the Lady
of the castle taking her children in safety from the burning castle, by way of
an underground passage to the old chapel? Gosh, I’d forgotten that!’
‘Oh,
Julian! Yes, George is right!’ said Anne. ‘Are you thinking that the passage
might still be there, hidden underground?’
‘What
I think is this,’ said Julian. ‘If the Lady and her children escaped
underground, they must first have fled down into the cellars of the castle -
and so the passage or tunnel must have started from there. They couldn’t have
escaped in any other way because the castle was itself surrounded by enemies.
So she must have gone with her children to hide in the cellars - and then, when
the castle fell, she took them safely down the secret passage that led to the
old chapel. So that means...’
‘That