by Enid Blyton
Roland glanced round quickly and saw the blue milk-jug, the silver spoon and the porridge plate on a shelf.
‘Hm!’ he said. ‘I don’t see much that I like. Wait! Here is a pretty jug. I will take that in return for the secret of the wind. And here is a dainty silver spoon. That shall be my reward for the secret of the rain. Then what shall I take for the secret of the thunder and lightning? Ah, here is a porridge plate I shall love to use. Wizard, I will take all these. Now see – here is an envelope. Inside you will find written the secret of the wind, the rain and the thunderstorm you have seen here tonight. Do not open it until tomorrow morning.’
He took the jug, the spoon and the porridge dish, and strode out of the door, the wizard bowing respectfully in front of him. Rosalind and Goldilocks had already climbed down the ladder and were waiting for him. They ran as fast as they could with all their watering-cans, bellows and other things, laughing till they cried when they thought of the clever tricks they had played.
And when the King and Queen heard of their prank they didn’t know whether to scold or praise.
‘You naughty, brave, rascally, daring scamps!’ cried the Queen. ‘Why, you might have been turned into frogs!’
As for the wizard, when he opened the envelope the next morning and saw what was written there, he was very puzzled indeed. For this is what Roland had written: ‘The secret of the wind is Bellows. The secret of the rain is Watering-cans. The secret of the thunderstorm is Fireworks. Ha! ha!’
And now the poor wizard is wandering all over the world trying to find someone wise and clever enough to tell him the meaning of the Bellows, the Watering-cans and the Fireworks, But nobody likes to!
The Two Good Fairies
David and Ruth lived in Primrose Cottage, and next door to them was Daffodil Cottage. An old man lived there, very fond of his garden, which was just a little piece like theirs.
One day the old man fell ill and had to go away to be nursed. David and Ruth peeped over the fence at his garden, which was full of daffodils and primroses.
‘Old Mr Reed will be sorry to leave his lovely daffodils before they are over,’ said Ruth. ‘I wonder if his servant will look after his garden for him.’
‘Mr Reed was a cross old man,’ said David. ‘He used to frown if we shouted or made a noise.’
‘And he hated to let us get a ball if it went over the fence,’ said Ruth.
‘He was never well,’ said their mother. ‘That is why he was cross. I expect if he had been well and strong like you he would have been jolly and good-tempered.’
The cottage next door was shut up and the hard-working little servant went back to her mother. There was no one to look after the garden, and as soon as the daffodils and primroses were over, the garden beds became full of weeds. The little lawn grew long and untidy, and thistles grew at the end of the garden.
‘Isn’t it a pity?’ said Ruth, looking over the fence at the untidy garden. ‘It used to be so nice in the summertime, full of flowers. Now it is like a field!’
‘I wonder when old Mr Reed will come back,’ said David.
‘Mother says he is coming back in June,’ said Ruth. ‘Our garden will look lovely then, but his will be dreadful.’
‘Let’s go and buy our seeds tomorrow,’ said David. ‘We ought to be planting them now, you know, else our gardens will be late with their summer flowers.’
They emptied out their money-box and counted their money. They had plenty to buy seeds.
‘I wish we had enough to buy a nice wheelbarrow, a new watering-can and a spade,’ said David longingly. ‘All our garden things are getting old. Shall we ask Mother if she’ll buy us some new ones?’
But Mother said no. ‘I can’t afford it,’ she said. ‘I am saving up to buy a new hoover, because mine is falling to bits. I’ll see about your garden tools after I’ve bought a new hoover.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Ruth, ‘that won’t be for ages!’
The two children went off to the seedsman to buy their garden seeds. They bought candytuft, poppies, nasturtiums, Virginia stock, love-in-a-mist and cornflowers – all the things that most children love to grow in their gardens. Then back they went to plant them.
They were very good little gardeners. They knew just how to get the beds ready, and how to shake the seed gently out of the packets so that not too much went into one place. They watered their seeds carefully and kept the weeds from the beds. Mother was quite proud of the way they kept their little gardens.
As they were planting their seeds Ruth had a good idea. She sat back on the grass and told it to David.
‘I say, David, we’ve plenty of seeds this year, haven’t we?’ she said. ‘Well, let’s go and plant some next door in the little round bed just in front of the window where the old man sits every day. Even if his garden is in a dreadful state he will be able to see one nice flowery bed! It would be such a nice surprise for him!’
David thought it was a good idea. So when they had finished planting their seeds in their own little gardens the two children ran into the garden next door. Then they began to work very hard indeed.
The round bed was covered with weeds! So before any seeds were planted all the dandelions, buttercups and other weeds had to be dug up and taken away. Then the bed was dug well over by David, and Ruth made the earth nice and fine.
Then they planted the seeds. In the middle they put cornflowers because they were nice and tall. Round them they put candytuft, with poppies here and there. In front they put love-in-a-mist with nasturtiums in between, and to edge the bed they planted seeds of the gay little Virginia stock. They were so pleased when they had finished, for the bed looked very neat and tidy.
There! That’s finished,’ said David. ‘Now we’ve only got to come in and weed and water, and the bed will look lovely in the summertime! How surprised old Mr Reed will be!’
You should have seen how those seeds grew. It was wonderful. The children’s gardens looked pretty enough, but the round bed next door was marvellous.
The cornflowers were the deepest of blues, and the candytuft was strong and sturdy. The Virginia stock was full of buds.
‘Old Mr Reed is coming back tomorrow,’ said Ruth in excitement. ‘Won’t he be surprised!’
He did come back – and he was surprised! The children peeped over the fence and saw him looking out of his window in the very greatest astonishment. He saw them and waved to them.
‘Hallo, Ruth and David,’ he said. ‘Just look at that round bed! Isn’t it a picture? I was so sad when I came back thinking that I wouldn’t have any flowers in my garden this summer – and the first thing I saw was this lovely bed full of colour. Do you know who planted the seeds?’
David and Ruth didn’t like to say that they had done it.
‘Perhaps it was the fairies,’ said Mr Reed. ‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised, would you? Well, I shall have to reward them for such a kind deed. I wonder whether one of you would come over tonight after the sun has gone down and water the bed for me? I don’t expect the fairies will come now I’m back, do you?’
That evening the children took their old leaky watering-can next door and went to water the round bed. Mr Reed watched them from the window. Ruth and David saw something by the bed – and what do you think it was?
There was a fine new wheelbarrow, and inside it were two strong spades and a perfectly splendid new red watering-can. There was a note inside the barrow too, that said: ‘A present for the kind fairies who gave me such a nice surprise.’
The children didn’t know what to do. Did Mr Reed really think it was the fairies that had worked so hard? Oh, what lovely garden tools these were – just what they needed so badly. They stood and looked at them.
‘How do you like your new tools?’ shouted Mr Reed from his window.
‘Oh, are they for us?’ cried the children in delight. ‘It says in the note that they are for the good fairies.’
‘Well, didn’t you act like good fairies?’ said the ol
d man, smiling. ‘You gave me a wonderful surprise, and now I’m giving you one. You did a very kind deed to a cross, bad-tempered old man. But I’m better now, and so is my temper, especially since I’ve had such a lovely surprise. So I hope you will often come to tea with me and play with the new puppy I have bought. Now water my garden and then take your things home to show your mother.’
‘Oh, thank you so much,’ said the children, so excited that they could hardly hold the watering-can properly. Whatever would Mother say when she heard what had happened?
Mother was delighted.
‘You deserve your surprise,’ she said. ‘You were kind to someone you didn’t very much like, and now you have made a friend and had a lovely present.’
You should see David and Ruth gardening now with all their new tools. They are as happy as can be – and all because Ruth had a good idea and was kind to a cross old man.
The Newspaper Dog
Once upon a time there was a little dog called Tips. He belonged to Mrs Brown who lived in Primrose Cottage at the end of Cherry Village.
He was a useful little dog. He guarded the house each night for Mrs Brown. He kept her company when she was alone. He barked at any tramp who came up the front path – and once each week he fetched a newspaper for her from old Mr Jonathan who lived all by himself in a little house on the hillside.
Mr Jonathan bought the newspaper himself, and read it. Then he lent it to Mrs Jones, and after that she passed it on to someone else. She couldn’t often find time to go to fetch the paper herself, so Tips fetched it for her.
He started off each Thursday evening, ran all the way down the village street, went over the bridge that crossed the stream and up the hillside to Mr Jonathan’s cottage. He jumped up at the door and pushed it open. Then in he would trot and look for Mr Jonathan.
The old man always had the paper ready for him, neatly folded up with a piece of string round it. He put the packet into Tips’s mouth and off the little dog would go, running all the way home again, not stopping for anything until he reached Primrose Cottage and could drop the paper at Mrs Jones’s feet.
One day Mr Jonathan thought he would do some spring-cleaning. So he called on Mrs Jones and asked her to lend him her ladder.
‘Dear me, what do you want to go climbing about on ladders for?’ asked Mrs Jones in surprise. ‘You’ll fall off, Mr Jonathan, and hurt yourself.’
‘Indeed I shan’t!’ said the old man. ‘I’m going to paint my ceiling white, Mrs Jones. It is very dirty. So lend me your step-ladder, there’s a good soul.’
‘It’s in the shed,’ said Mrs Jones. ‘You can have it if you want it. But do pray be careful, Mr Jonathan, for it’s not a very steady pair of steps.’
Mr Jonathan found the ladder and took it home. He mixed some whitening and started to do his ceiling. It looked lovely! All day he worked at it, and then went to bed.
He began again next day, whistling to himself, sloshing about on the ceiling with the whitewash, quite enjoying himself. And then a dreadful thing happened.
The postman dropped some letters in the letterbox and gave such a loud rat-a-tat that the shock made old Mr Jonathan fall off his ladder. Down he went – and when he tried to get up he found that he couldn’t.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, I must have sprained my ankle, or broken my leg, or something,’ the old man groaned. ‘Whatever shall I do? Nobody else will come today, and I can’t send anyone for the doctor. I have no neighbours to call to. I am all alone!’
He lay there on the floor, groaning. He really didn’t know what he was going to do. Perhaps he would have to stay there all night long. If only somebody would come! But there was nobody to come at all.
And then, just as he was thinking that, Mr Jonathan heard the sound of pitter-pattering feet, and someone came running up the front path. Then a little body hurled itself against the door which opened at once. It was Tips, the little newspaper dog, come to get his mistress’s paper, for it was Thursday evening!
He saw Mr Jonathan lying on the floor, and he was puzzled. He ran up to him and licked his hand. Then he sat down with his head on one side and said ‘Woof!’
That was his way of saying: ‘What’s the matter? Can I help you?’
‘I wish you could, Tips,’ said Mr Jonathan. And then he suddenly looked more cheerful. Perhaps Tips could help him. He looked round. The newspaper was on a chair, already tied up with string for Mrs Jones.
‘There’s the paper, Tips,’ said Mr Jonathan, pointing. ‘Fetch it here!’
Tips saw the paper, and took it into his mouth. He was just going to run off with it when Mr Jonathan called him back.
‘Don’t go yet, Tips,’ he said. ‘Bring the paper here.’
The clever little dog understood. He ran over to Mr Jonathan with the paper in his mouth. Mr Jonathan took a pencil from his pocket and wrote in large letters across the top of the paper:
‘Mrs Jones. I have fallen off the ladder. Please fetch the doctor. Mr Jonathan.’
Then he pushed the paper once more into Tips’s mouth and patted the waiting dog. ‘Go home now,’ he said.
Tips ran off, puzzling his little head to know why Mr Jonathan was on the floor. He ran to his mistress as soon as he reached Primrose Cottage and dropped the paper at her feet. She picked it up, and caught sight of the message scribbled on the top.
‘Good gracious me!’ she cried. ‘Poor old Mr Jonathan! He’s tumbled off the ladder!’
She ran for the doctor at once, and he took her along to Mr Jonathan’s in his car. It wasn’t long before they had him safely in bed, his leg bandaged up, and a nice hot drink beside him.
‘It was my clever little dog Tips who found Mr Jonathan when he came for my weekly paper this evening,’ said Mrs Jones proudly to the doctor. ‘Mr Jonathan wrote a message on the paper, and, of course, I saw it when Tips dropped the paper at my feet.’
Mr Jonathan soon got well, and one morning Mrs Jones and Tips met him going shopping for the first time, leaning on a stick.
‘Now wherever are you going?’ cried Mrs Jones. ‘I’m sure there’s no shopping so important that I can’t do it for you. Whatever is it you must buy, Mr Jonathan?’
‘It’s something very special,’ said Mr Jonathan with a smile, and he went into a little shop nearby beckoning Tips and Mrs Jones in too. And what do you suppose the special bit of shopping was? Why, a fine red collar for Tips!
‘That’s to show everyone what a clever, helpful little chap he is,’ said Mr Jonathan, putting it round the little dog’s neck. ‘He really does deserve it.’
I think so, too, don’t you?
Mr Candle’s Coconut
Mr Candle was very proud of himself. He had been to the Fair in Oak-Tree Village, and had won a coconut at the coconut shy. He had paid a penny to the man there, who had given him four balls to throw at the coconuts.
The first ball didn’t go near any coconuts at all. It was a very bad shot. The second ball nearly touched the nut in the middle. The third ball went wrong somehow, and knocked off the hat of a man quite a long way away. After Mr Candle had said he was really very, very sorry, he took up his fourth and last ball, and threw that.
And, dear me, nobody was more surprised than he was to see it hit the very largest coconut of all and send it rolling to the ground! Mr Candle was simply delighted. He picked it up and took it home with him. All the way home he was making a fine plan.
He would give a Coconut Party. That would be a most unusual party. He would give his guests cocoa to drink, because that sounded as if it ought to go with coconut to eat. He would have a big coconut cake, some coconut ice candy and he would cut up the piece of coconut left and hand round the bits for his guests to nibble. Yes, it would be a very fine Coconut Party indeed.
So Mr Candle sent out his invitations. One went to Squiddle the Pixie. One went to Mrs Popoff the Balloon Woman, and the third one went to Mr Crinkle who painted wonderful pictures on the pavement outside the post office.
Mr C
andle made his coconut cake. It was a beautiful one with coconut in it and grated coconut sprinkled on top. Then he made the coconut ice candy – some in pink and some in white. It tasted lovely because Mr Candle had a bit to see.
There was just over half the coconut left when Mr Candle had finished. So he cut this up very neatly into nice little squares, and put them on a plate on the wide window-ledge ready for when his guests came that afternoon.
When they came Mr Candle was ready to greet them, dressed up in his best green and red suit, with his new pointed shoes.
‘Welcome to the Coconut Party!’ he said. ‘I am so pleased to see you. The party is because I won a coconut at the Fair.’
‘How clever of you!’ said Squiddle the Pixie.
‘You must be a good shot!’ said Mr Crinkle.
‘Splendid, Mr Candle!’ said Mrs Popoff, beaming all over her kind red face.
Mr Candle was so pleased. He thought what nice people his friends were. Down they sat to the coconut cake, the mugs of hot, sweet cocoa, and the coconut ice laid out on a blue dish. The pieces of coconut on the window-ledge were to be eaten after tea, when they were all playing games. It would be nice to have something to nibble at then, Mr Candle thought.
They finished all the coconut cake because it was so good, and they ate all the coconut ice candy too. They drank every drop of their sweet cocoa, and then they wanted to play games.
‘Let’s play Hunt-the-Thimble!’ said Mrs Popoff, who simply loved that game. ‘Mr Crinkle, you hide the thimble – here it is – and we’ll all go out of the room while you do it.’
Out they went and shut the door. Mr Crinkle was a long time hiding the thimble. He simply could not think of a good place. But at last he put it on the head of a little china monkey on the mantelpiece. It looked just like a hat, and Mr Crinkle felt sure nobody would notice it was a thimble.