11
Milly-Molly-Mandy Rides a Horse
Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was out playing at horses with little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt.
There was a clearing in the woods near the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, where Milly-Molly-Mandy lived, and they had found some fallen branches and were galloping astride them along a mossy track.
Then Billy Blunt saw a low-growing branch of a tree which he climbed on, and sat bouncing up and down exactly like real horse-riding. Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan had to stop and watch him, till he let them each have a go.
Then he said firmly, “Now it’s my turn.” And he got on again and bounced solemnly up and down, while Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan pranced around on their sticks.
(Horse-riding is very good exercise!)
Presently what did they hear but a thud-thudding sound, like real horses’ hoofs. And what did they see but five or six real horse-riders come riding along down the mossy track.
“Oh, look!” cried Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Live horses!” cried little-friend-Susan.
“Mind yourselves!” called Billy Blunt, from his tree.
So they stopped well to one side as the horses passed in single file, hoofs thudding, harnesses creaking, breaths snorting.
Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt hardly looked at the riders, till one small one in fawn knee-breeches turned her head and said, “Hullo!” to them.
“OH, LOOK!” CRIED MILLY-MOLLY-MANDY
It was the little girl Jessamine, who lived at the Big House with the iron railings near the crossroads.
“Well!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, as the party cantered out into the road towards the village, “fancy Jessamine having a real horse!”
“Isn’t she lucky!” said little-friend-Susan.
“It’s the riding school,” said Billy Blunt. “She’s learning riding.”
Somehow, their pretend-horses didn’t seem quite such fun now. Billy Blunt stopped bouncing and climbed down.
“I wish we’d got real horses to ride on,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“So do I,” said little-friend-Susan.
Billy Blunt said, “Well, what about your old Twinkletoes?”
“He’s Grandpa’s pony,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “He isn’t meant for riding.”
“He pulls their market-cart,” said little-friend-Susan.
“But he is a horse,” said Billy Blunt.
Milly-Molly-Mandy stood and thought.
“I don’t believe they’d let us ride him,” she said; “but we could ask, couldn’t we?”
“Oh, do!” said little-friend-Susan.
“No harm asking,” said Billy Blunt.
So they all ran down the road to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, into the kitchen, where Mother was busy ironing shirts.
“Oh, Mother!” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Please may we go horse-riding on Twinkletoes?”
“Well, now,” said Mother, “you’d better see what Father has to say!”
So they ran outside to the barn, where Father was busy sorting potatoes.
“Father!” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Please may we go horse-riding on Twinkletoes?”
“Why, where do you want to go?” asked Father. “Land’s End or John o’Groats?”
“Oh, no,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy (she wasn’t sure where either of those places were), “only just in the meadow, perhaps.”
“Well, now,” said Father, “perhaps you’d better see what Grandpa has to say!”
So they ran around to the stable, where Grandpa was busy mending a broken strap.
“Grandpa!” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Please may we go horse-riding on Twinkletoes?”
Grandpa didn’t answer at once. Then he said slowly:
“Well, you know, he’s not exactly used to folks sitting on him, is old Twinkletoes. But we might try!”
So Grandpa tried putting a bridle on Twinkletoes and strapping an old blanket across his back for a saddle. Then he stooped to lift Milly-Molly-Mandy up.
But Milly-Molly-Mandy said quickly, “Billy Blunt ought to have first go!” (Maybe she wanted to see if Twinkletoes would mind being ridden!)
So Grandpa held the bridle while Billy Blunt got on. And after a moment Twinkletoes clip-clopped slowly across the yard, with Billy Blunt sitting joggling on his back.
They all went into the meadow, and Grandpa stood by the gate, watching. It was very exciting!
“Does it feel nice?” Milly-Molly-Mandy called up to Billy Blunt.
“It looks lovely!” called little-friend-Susan.
“Not bad,” returned Billy Blunt. (He was really enjoying it like anything!) “Look out you don’t get under his feet!”
They went right across the meadow, and Twinkletoes didn’t seem to mind a bit. When they got back to the gate again Billy Blunt slid down, and then Grandpa helped little-friend-Susan up. (Milly-Molly-Mandy had to keep jumping because it was so exciting and so hard to wait her turn! – but of course visitors should have first go.)
Little-friend-Susan only wished that old Twinkletoes wouldn’t keep stopping to nibble the grass!
At last Milly-Molly-Mandy’s turn came.
She was lifted on to the pony’s broad back (it felt awfully high!) and off he went, with Milly-Molly-Mandy holding tight to his mane.
It was terribly thrilling! But soon she was able to sit up and look about a bit. It felt rather like being on a rocking-chair, as Twinkletoes ambled slowly along with his head drooping, while little-friend-Susan picked daisies and Billy Blunt romped with Toby the dog.
Suddenly – what do you think? – Twinkletoes seemed to stumble on a rough bit of ground. And next moment Milly-Molly-Mandy slid sprawling over his head down into the long grass!
The others all came running to help her up, Toby the dog barking at poor Twinkletoes, who stood shaking his head in a puzzled sort of way.
“You let his head hang down, didn’t you?” said Grandpa; “and he kind of went to sleep! You want to let him feel the reins, only don’t pull on them. You’ll learn. Up with you, now!”
But Milly-Molly-Mandy wasn’t sure she wanted any more riding just at present. “It’s Billy’s turn again,” she said.
But Billy Blunt said, “No! You should always get on at once if you fall off a horse. Go on, get on.”
So then Milly-Molly-Mandy got on. And Twinkletoes trotted with her so nicely round the meadow that they all forgot about the tumble.
“Can we have some more rides soon?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy, as she got down and they all stood patting Twinkletoes.
Grandpa said, Yes, another day, when he had had time to see about some stirrups.
Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan were glad to think they had a real horse to ride on now, like the little girl Jessamine!
12
Milly-Molly-Mandy Finds a Parcel
Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy walked down to the village with little-friend-Susan, who had to buy some things for her mother at Mr Smale the grocer’s shop. (It’s always nicer to do that sort of thing with somebody than just by yourself.)
While she waited outside (because there were several people in the shop, so it was rather full) Milly-Molly-Mandy noticed a man, coming along the pavement opposite, stoop as if to pick up something. Then he straightened himself, looked around, and said “Ha Ha!” rather loudly, and walked on.
Milly-Molly-Mandy thought it seemed a bit funny; but grown-ups sometimes did do funny things, so she didn’t think more about it. And little-friend-Susan came out just then with a big bag in her arms.
“Let’s have a look in Miss Muggins’s shop!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
So they crossed over and looked in the window (because Miss Muggins sold toys and sweets as well as ladies’ things, and it’s always fun to see what you might buy if you could!).
But there was nothing new, so they were just going on when
Milly-Molly-Mandy said:
“Look! What’s this?”
“What’s what?” said little-friend-Susan, clutching her bag.
Milly-Molly-Mandy pointed.
“Someone must have dropped it,” she said.
It was a neat little parcel tied with string.
Milly-Molly-Mandy bent to pick it up. But – what do you think? – it slid away from her along the pavement! She let out a squeal, and little-friend-Susan dropped an orange from her bag.
“SOMEONE MUST HAVE DROPPED IT,” SHE SAID
But, while picking it up for her, Milly-Molly-Mandy noticed something! Pushing the orange back in the bag, she whispered:
“Susan! don’t talk loud, but there’s some black cotton tied to that parcel, and I think it goes behind the fence into the Blunts’s garden!” Then in her usual voice she said, “We’d best hurry home before you drop any more things, Susan!” – as if quite forgetting what was on the ground.
Then she crept to the fence adjoining Miss Muggins’s shop and peeped over. And behind some bushes in the Blunts’s garden she could just see a bit of Billy Blunt’s leg!
“Ha ha!” she called out (like the man she had watched), “we can see you! You thought you’d had us, didn’t you?”
Billy Blunt’s grinning face looked round the bush. “So I did,” he said, “had you nicely!”
“Can we come in there with you, and watch?” said little-friend-Susan. “There’s someone coming along!”
“Hurry up, then, and don’t make a lot of row,” said Billy Blunt.
So Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan hurried in at the gate and over to the bushes where Billy Blunt was hiding. And they made themselves as small as possible behind him, while he held the end of his thread and waited.
Young Mrs Rudge the blacksmith’s wife, going to see if Miss Muggins sold hair-curlers (she did), stooped to pick up the package. Billy Blunt twitched it away from her, and she called out, “Now, Billy Blunt! – you and your monkey-tricks!” – though she couldn’t have seen him!
Then Miss Muggins’s Jilly came by with a handful of chocolate-drops (which her aunty must have given her). She nearly trod on the little parcel before she saw it.
Billy Blunt pulled the thread, but Miss Muggins’s Jilly’s foot was on it, and the cotton broke.
She picked up the package (not noticing the bit of black thread dangling), and, seeing the stamp, supposed it had been dropped by somebody going to the post. So, like a thoughtful little girl, she went and popped it into the letter-box outside Mr Smale the grocer’s shop!
“Ohhh!” whispered Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan together, watching from the other side of the fence. “She’s posted it!”
Billy Blunt doubled up with silent laughter.
“She never noticed the address – and that it wasn’t a proper stamp!”
“What had you put on it?” whispered Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Mr Nobody, Grand View, The Moon – and a stamp off an old envelope!”
They all nearly burst with laughing, in among the bushes.
“But the postman can’t deliver it, so what will he do?” whispered little-friend-Susan.
“He’ll have to open it!” Billy Blunt exploded.
“What’s inside?” they asked.
“Ssh! – just a stone and a bit of paper with ‘Ever been had?’ ” Billy Blunt said, and set them all off again.
“Oh, but poor Mr Jakes,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, then, “and he’s such a nice postman! It’s too bad to take him in!”
“But I never meant for him to be taken in,” said Billy Blunt, “and he mustn’t ever know who’s done it.”
“Can’t we do something nice to make up?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Send him something nice in a parcel,” said little-friend-Susan.
“Then he might suspect,” said Billy Blunt. “And after all, we didn’t post it!”
Miss Muggins’s Jilly had gone now, so they could come out of hiding and laugh all they wanted, as they couldn’t fool anyone else now. Little-friend-Susan took up her shopping-bag.
But then Milly-Molly-Mandy had a bright idea.
“Couldn’t we get Mr Jakes a proper card between us, and post it to him? We needn’t sign it.”
They all counted their pennies, and then they went to look at Miss Muggins’s greeting cards. The prettiest said, ‘To my husband’ – but Mr Jakes might think Mrs Jakes had sent it! Another (cheaper) said, ‘To my Friend’. And they decided on that.
Billy Blunt wrote the name and address with his pen, and they bought a real stamp, and posted the card in the letter-box (though Mr Jakes lived only next door).
And then Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan ran home.
Well! – you can guess how pleased and surprised Mr Jakes the postman was to have to deliver such a nice card to himself! But, actually, it was Miss Crisp the postmistress who found Billy Blunt’s little package. And she saw it was just a bit of nonsense, and threw it away!
13
Milly-Molly-Mandy Goes Excavating
Once upon a time, as Milly-Molly-Mandy was going into school, she noticed a number of young men come striding along from the crossroads and up Hooker’s Hill. They were carrying spades and pickaxes and things, but somehow they didn’t look like men who were mending the roads.
“I wonder what they’re going to do,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“They’re going to do excavating,” said Billy Blunt. “I heard my dad talking about it. They’ve got permission.”
“What’s excavating?”
“Digging up old things,” said Billy Blunt.
“Like buried treasure? That sort of thing? How do they know where to do it?”
“They guess,” said Billy Blunt. “They guess Ancient Britons might have lived up there once. They just want to find out.”
It sounded rather exciting. Milly-Molly-Mandy wished she could go digging instead of just going to school!
Next Saturday morning she took Toby the dog for a walk down to the village, rather hoping to hear more about the excavating. As she passed the corn-shop she saw Billy Blunt hanging over the side gate.
“Hullo!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “What are you doing?”
Billy Blunt didn’t answer. (Anyone could see he was doing nothing.) But after a moment he said:
“Want to see something?”
Of course Milly-Molly-Mandy said yes, at once.
And Billy Blunt drew his hand slowly out of his pocket and opened it. There was a flat, round thing in it, streaked brown and green.
“What d’you make of that?” he asked.
“What is it? Is it money? Where did you find it?”
“I excavated it.”
“You didn’t! Where?”
“In our garden. By the bonfire heap. I was just digging a bit, to see if there might be anything – you never know – and I dug this up.”
“It must be ancient!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Have you shown it to anybody?”
“Not yet.” Billy Blunt rubbed it carefully with his handkerchief. “Mother’s busy, and Dad’s got customers.”
“Let’s show it to Mr Rudge!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “He knows about iron and such things; he’ll know if it’s valuable.”
So they went along to the forge, where the blacksmith was blowing up his fire.
Milly-Molly-Mandy peeped in the doorway.
“Mr Rudge! Billy Blunt’s excavated something!” she told him. “And we want to know if you think it’s very valuable!”
The blacksmith looked round with a twinkle in his eye. He held out one great grimy hand, working the bellows with the other, and Billy Blunt put the precious coin into it.
Mr Rudge examined it one side, then the other. Then he rubbed it on his big leather apron and looked again.
“Hmmm,” he said solemnly. “Georgian, I’d say. Yes. Undoubtedly.”
“Is that very ancient?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“What’
s it worth?” asked Billy Blunt.
“If you’re asking me, don’t you take a ha’penny less than a penny for it. But mind you,” he added, “if it’s treasure-trove it may belong to the Crown.”
He gave the coin back and turned again to his fire. Billy Blunt and Milly-Molly-Mandy came out into the sunshine, looking to see what all that rubbing had done.
“Looks like there’s a head –” said Billy Blunt; “can’t see any date.”
“What’s treasure-trove mean?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Dunno. P’raps if you dig up treasure you aren’t supposed to keep it.”
Then Milly-Molly-Mandy had an idea.
“If you dug this out of your garden maybe there’s some more there! Can’t you go excavating again? I’ll help.”
So they went back to the Blunts’s garden, beside the corn-shop, and Billy Blunt led the way round the rhubarb-bed to the end by the rubbish-heap and the bonfire.
He picked up a trowel and handed Milly-Molly-Mandy a rusty knife to dig with, and they began jabbing about in the earth and weeds. But there didn’t seem to be anything else but stones. (Plenty of them.)
“IT’S AWFULLY HARD UNDER HERE . . .”
Presently Milly-Molly-Mandy said:
“It’s awfully hard under here – feels like rock.”
“Where?” said Billy Blunt. He came over and used his trowel. “Looks like cement.”
“Perhaps it’s buried treasure cemented in!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Fetch a spade out of the shed there,” ordered Billy Blunt. “Hurry!”
So Milly-Molly-Mandy ran and fetched him a spade, and she took over the trowel. And they could see there was something, underneath the earth and weeds!
“It’s got an iron lid!” panted Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“It’s an iron chest, cemented down!” puffed Billy Blunt.
They got the top scraped clear. It was square and rusty, with a kind of loop to lift it by.
More Milly-Molly-Mandy Page 7