by Enid Blyton
‘Please, Thimble,’ he begged. ‘Set me free. I will promise not to hurt you. I have been a stupid, proud gnome, but I will never be again.’
‘Will you pack your bags and go away if I set you free?’ asked Thimble.
‘Yes,’ said Brin-Brin, at once, thinking that he certainly could never face seeing all the people of Go-and-See Village again. No – they would always laugh at him now. He must certainly go right away and never come back.
That was just what Thimble wanted! He at once ran to Brin-Brin and untied him. The gnome stretched his arms and legs and then set off in silence to his house. He packed up his bags and left his house that night, walking steadily towards the silver moon.
Thimble watched him go in delight. He had got rid of his unpleasant neighbour. Never again would he find his garden full of rubbish! Never again would he hear a voice singing loudly next door. Ho, ho, ho!
‘Where has Brin-Brin gone?’ asked the little folk next day.
‘Oh, I untied him, told him to pack his bags and go,’ said Thimble. ‘So he’s gone.’
‘Dear, dear, what a wonder you are!’ said the little folk, in delight. ‘Let’s hope he’ll never come back!’
He never did – and I don’t expect he ever will, do you?
A Shock for Freddie
There was once a little girl called Linda. She lived in a small cottage with her mother and father, and she was very fond of gardening. So her mother bought her a watering-can, a trowel, a fork, a broom and rake for her very own.
‘You can keep them in the apple-shed,’ said her mother, ‘then they won’t get mixed up with Daddy’s things. There is plenty of room behind the apple-racks.’
So Linda kept her tools there. She was a very good worker, and she always kept her tools clean and tidy. She never put any of them away dirty, and she used to rub the trowel and fork till they shone before she put them away.
They often used to talk about Linda, in the middle of the night, when they were all alone in the sweet-smelling apple-shed.
‘She’s a very nice child to belong to,’ said the broom in its funny sweeping voice.
‘She looks after us so well,’ said the trowel, in its scrapy voice.
‘Not like the boy next door,’ said the watering-can. ‘He simply throws his tools into the shed all dirty, and never cleans them at all. They are rusty, and three of them are broken.’
‘His watering-can has a hole in the bottom,’ said the rake.
‘How dreadful!’ said Linda’s can, shivering on its shelf.
‘His fork is broken,’ said the broom.
‘Dear, dear, what a horrid boy!’ said Linda’s fork. ‘I am glad we don’t belong to him! I hope he never comes here.’
Well, one day the boy next door did come to Linda’s garden. His name was Freddie, and he was a fat, lazy boy, clumsy and careless. On the other side of the fence there was a little shed just like Linda’s apple-shed, and one day when Freddie was peeping through the cracks in the side of it, he found that he could see right into the apple-shed next door.
And his greedy little eyes saw the red apples stored so carefully in the apple-racks there! Goodness me, how his mouth watered when he saw them!
‘I shall wait until Linda and everyone next door are out,’ said Freddie to himself, ‘and then I shall climb over the fence, squeeze in at the shed window and eat a few apples. Nobody will know, and I shall have a fine feast.’
Well, that is exactly what he did do! The very next day he watched Linda and her father and mother go out to tea, and as soon as they were gone he climbed quickly over the fence and ran to the apple-shed. The door was locked, as he had thought it would be, but it didn’t take him a minute to open the little window and squeeze himself through it.
Then what a fine time he had! He ate four of the biggest, reddest apples, and then climbed out of the window again, with two apples safely in his pocket.
The tools on the shelf behind the apples looked at one another in anger. How dare that horrid boy come into their shed and steal their apples?
‘Linda will be blamed for taking them,’ said the fork in a rage. ‘She is the only person who comes here besides her mother and father.’
The fork was right. Linda was blamed for taking the apples, and she was very sad about it.
‘But, Mummy, I didn’t touch the apples,’ she said. ‘Truly I didn’t. I would never take anything you told me not to, really I wouldn’t.’
‘Well, who did take them then?’ said her mother. ‘The door is always locked.’
The next week Freddie took some more apples, and Linda was scolded again. She cried bitterly and was very unhappy. The tools longed to tell her who the thief was, but they couldn’t talk as she did. It was dreadful.
Then the broom had a wonderful idea.
‘Let’s punish Freddie and give him such a fright that he will never come to our shed again!’ it said. ‘I will sweep him off his feet, and you, watering-can, can water him from head to foot.’
‘And I will rake him up and down,’ said the rake.
‘And we will dig under his toes and make holes for him to fall into,’ said the fork and trowel in excitement. ‘He deserves to be punished. Watering-can, it’s pouring with rain now, so if you stick yourself out of the window, you will get full of raindrops – then you will be ready for Freddie!’
‘Ready for Freddie!’ sang all the tools, in glee.
Now it so happened that night that Freddie was sent to bed without any supper because he had been naughty. So he was very hungry indeed. He hadn’t been in bed very long before he made up his mind to steal downstairs, climb over the garden-wall, and go to the apple-shed next door. Then he would eat plenty of those lovely red apples there!
So off he went, and it wasn’t long before he was in the shed. The tools felt most excited. Now they could do all they had planned to do!
Freddie felt about for the apple-racks. Then he quickly took four apples and stuffed them into a bag he had brought with him – and just as he did that, the watering-can carefully tipped itself up and began to water him!
‘Ooh!’ shouted Freddie in a fright, as the cold water soaked him from head to foot. ‘What is it? Ooh! Stop!’
But the watering-can didn’t stop until it had emptied all its water on to the frightened little thief. Then it was the rake’s turn! It jumped up to Freddie and began to rake him up and down, tearing big holes in his sleeping-suit. Freddie tried to run away from it, but the fork and trowel hopped about in front of him, digging little holes under his toes.
‘There are rats round my feet!’ cried Freddie. ‘Help! Help!’
Then the broom thought it would join in, and it began to sweep Freddie up as if he were dead leaves. Swish! Swish! Freddie called for help even more loudly, and this time Linda’s father and mother heard him and came rushing out to the apple-shed to see what was the matter.
When they saw Freddie with the bag of apples in his hand they knew at once who had been the apple-thief. They took Freddie into their cottage and looked at him. He was wet, dirty and torn, and he cried with fright.
‘What have you been doing in that shed?’ asked Linda, peeping down the stairs in surprise.
‘S-s-something w-w-watered me!’ sobbed Freddie.
‘My watering-can!’ cried Linda.
‘And then something raked me up and down!’ wept Freddie.
‘My garden rake!’ said Linda.
‘And rats kept digging holes under my feet, and then something swept me up!’ sobbed the frightened boy.
‘My fork and trowel and my broom!’ cried Linda. ‘They must have seen you stealing our apples and felt cross with you. Well, it serves you right.’
‘Don’t punish me for taking your apples,’ begged Freddie, turning to Linda’s father and mother.
‘You have been well punished already,’ said Linda’s mother. ‘Go back now to your own house. I am afraid that when your mother sees your torn sleeping-suit she will be very cross with you.’<
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So she was! Poor Freddie was well spanked and as he lay in bed again that night, he said to himself: ‘Well, that’s the last time I ever take anything that doesn’t belong to me! I wonder what it was that treated me like that in the apple-shed. It couldn’t really have been Linda’s tools.’
But it was! Linda knew it and she thanked them very much next time she used them – and how she cleans and polishes them! They really are a wonderful sight to see.
The Three Naughty Children
One day Queen Peronel’s cook heard a knocking at her kitchen door. She opened it and saw a ragged pedlar there, his tray of goods in front of him.
‘Can I sell you something?’ said the pedlar. ‘Red ribbons, silver thimbles, honey-chocolate, high-heeled shoes – I have them all here.’
‘Nothing today, thank you,’ said the cook. But the pedlar would not go.
‘I am tired with walking many miles,’ he said. ‘Let me come in and rest a little. See, I will wipe my feet well on the mat so that I shall not dirty your clean kitchen floor.’
So the cook let him come in and sit down on her oldest chair for a little while. But when he had gone she missed three things, and flew to tell Queen Peronel.
‘Oh, Your Highness!’ she cried, bursting into the drawing-room where the Queen sat knitting a jersey. ‘Oh, Your Highness, a pedlar has stolen your blue milk-jug, your little silver spoon and your wooden porridge plate! Oh, whatever shall I do!’
Now these three things were all full of magic and the Queen treasured them very much. The blue milk-jug had the power of pouring out perfectly fresh milk twice a day, which was very useful for the Queen’s nurse, for she had two little princesses and a prince to look after in the royal nursery. The silver spoon would make anyone hungry if he put it into his mouth, and this, too, was very useful if any of the royal children wouldn’t eat a meal.
The wooden porridge plate could play a tune all the time that porridge was eaten from it, so the children loved it very much. Queen Peronel was dreadfully upset when she heard that all these things had been stolen.
‘What was the pedlar like?’ she asked. ‘I will have him captured and put into prison.’
But alas, when the cook told her about the pedlar’s looks, the Queen knew that he was no pedlar but a wizard who had dressed himself up to steal her treasures. She called the King and he really didn’t know what to do.
‘That wizard is too powerful for us to send to prison,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He won’t give us back those three things if we ask him nicely, for he will say he didn’t steal them. I really do not know what to do.’
Now when the two little princesses and the prince heard how the wizard had stolen their milk-jug, porridge plate and spoon, they were very angry.
‘Send a hundred soldiers to him, Father, and capture him!’ cried Roland, the little prince, standing straight and tall in front of the King.
‘Don’t be silly, my dear child,’ said the King. ‘He would turn them all into wolves and send them howling back here. You wouldn’t like that, would you?’
‘Well, Father, send someone to steal all the things from him,’ said Rosalind, the eldest child, throwing back her golden curls.
‘You don’t know what you are talking about,’ said the King crossly. ‘Go back to the nursery, all of you, and play at trains.’
They went back to the nursery, but they didn’t play at trains. They sat in a corner and talked. Rosalind and Roland were very fierce about the stealing of their magic things. Then Roland suddenly thought of an idea.
‘I say, Rosalind, what about dressing up as a wizard myself and going to call on the wizard who took away our things? Perhaps I could make him give them back. I’m not afraid of any old wizard!’
‘I shall come, too,’ said Rosalind, who liked to be in everything.
‘And so shall I,’ said Goldilocks, the youngest of them all.
‘You’re too little,’ said Roland.
‘I’m not!’ said Goldilocks. ‘I shall cry if you don’t let me come.’
‘All right, all right, you can come,’ said Roland, ‘but if you get turned into a worm or something, don’t blame me!’
Then they made their plans, and very peculiar plans they were, too. They were all to slip out of bed that night and go downstairs, dressed, when nobody was about. Roland was to get his father’s grandest cloak and feathered hat, and the two girls were to take with them a pair of bellows each, a box of fireworks from the firework cupboard, and two watering-cans full of water. How strange!
They were most excited. They could hardly wait until the clock struck eleven and everyone else was in bed. Then they dressed and went downstairs. Soon Roland was wrapped in his father’s wonderful gold and silver cloak, with big diamonds at the neck and round the hem. On his curly head he put his father’s magnificent feathered hat, stuffed with a piece of paper inside to make it fit. Then, with their burden of bellows, fireworks and watering-cans, they set off to the wizard’s little house on the hillside not far off.
It was all in darkness save for one light in the nearest window.
‘He’s still up,’ said Roland. ‘Good! Now, you two girls, you know what to do, don’t you? As soon as you hear me shouting up the chimney, do your part. And if you make a mistake, Goldilocks, I’ll pull your hair tomorrow, so there!’
‘Help me to get the ladder out of the garden shed,’ said Rosalind as they came near to the cottage. Roland and the two girls silently carried the ladder to the cottage and placed it softly against the roof. Then up went the two princesses, as quietly as cats. In half a minute they were sitting beside the chimney, their bellows, fireworks and watering-cans beside them.
It was time for Roland to do his part. He wrapped the big cloak around his shoulder and strode up to the door. He hammered on it with a stone he had picked up and made a tremendous noise. The wizard inside nearly jumped out of his skin.
‘Now who can this be?’ he wondered, getting up. ‘Some great witch or enchanter, hammering like that on my door!’
He opened the door and Roland strode in, not a bit nervous.
‘Good evening, wizard,’ he said. ‘I am Rilloby-Rimmony-Ru, the Enchanter from the moon. I have heard that you can do wondrous things. Show me some.’
The wizard looked at Roland’s grand cloak and hat and thought he must indeed be a rich and great enchanter. He bowed low.
‘I can command gold to come from the air, silver to come from the streams, and music from the stars,’ he said.
‘Pooh!’ said Roland rudely. ‘Anyone can do that! Can you call the wind and make it do your bidding?’
‘Great sir, no one can do that,’ answered the wizard, mockingly.
‘Ho, you mock at me, do you?’ said Roland. He went to the chimney and shouted up it. ‘Wind, come down to me and show this poor wizard how you obey my commands!’
At once Rosalind and Goldilocks began to work the bellows down the chimney, blowing great puffs of air down as they opened and shut the bellows. The smoke from the fire was blown all over the room and. the wizard began to cough. He looked frightened.
‘Enough, enough!’ he cried. ‘You will smoke me out. Command the wind to stop blowing down my chimney.’
‘Stop blowing, wind!’ commanded Roland, shouting up the chimney. At once the two girls on the roof stopped working the bellows, and the smoke went up the chimney in the ordinary way.
‘Wonderful, wonderful!’ said the wizard, staring at Roland in amazement. ‘I have never seen anyone make the wind his servant before.’
‘That’s nothing,’ said Roland, grandly. ‘I can command the rain, too.’
‘Bid it come, then,’ said the wizard, trembling. Roland shouted up the chimney. ‘Rain, come at my bidding!’ At once Rosalind and Goldilocks poured water down the chimney from their watering-cans and it hissed on the fire and spat out on the hearth. The wizard leapt back in alarm.
‘Stop the rain!’ he cried. ‘It will put out my fire if it rushes down my chi
mney like that.’
Roland, who didn’t at all want the fire to be put out, hastily shouted to the rain to stop, and the two little girls put their watering-cans down, giggling to hear the astonished cries of the wizard.
‘Surely you can do no greater thing than these!’ said the wizard to Roland.
‘Well, I can command the thunder and lightning, too,’ said Roland. ‘Wait. I will call down some for you to see.’
Before the frightened wizard could stop him Roland shouted up the chimney again. ‘Thunder and lightning, come down here!’
Rosalind dropped a handful of fireworks down at once. They fell into the flames and exploded with an enormous bang, flashing brightly. The wizard yelled in alarm and ran into a corner. Rosalind dropped down some more fireworks, and two squibs hopped right out of the fire to the corner where the wizard was hiding.
‘Oh, oh, the thunderstorm is coming after me!’ he shouted. ‘Take it away, great Enchanter, take it away!’
Roland badly wanted to laugh, but he dared not even smile. Another batch of fireworks fell down the chimney, and the wizard rushed away again and fell over a stool.
‘Stop, thunder and lightning!’ called Roland up the chimney. At once the girls stopped throwing down fireworks and there was peace and quiet in the room, save for the wizard’s moans of fright.
‘Am I not a powerful enchanter?’ asked Roland, grandly. ‘Would you not like to know my secrets?’
‘Oh, Master, would you tell me them?’ cried the wizard, delighted.
‘I will write them down on a piece of paper for you,’ said Roland, ‘but you must not look at it until tomorrow morning. And now, what will you give me in return?’
‘Sacks of gold, cart-loads of silver,’ cried the grateful wizard.
‘Pooh!’ said Roland, scornfully. ‘What’s the use of those to me? I am richer than everyone in the world put together.’
‘Then look round my humble dwelling and choose what takes your fancy,’ said the wizard at once. ‘See, I have strange things here – what would you like?’