Blinky Bill

by Dorothy Wall

  “Only people with references taken,” Splodge snapped. “And I’d like to see yours before you sign the visitors’ book. All terms to be paid in advance.”

  “That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo answered, feeling in his pouch for the necessary papers and money.

  “We have to protect ourselves against impostors,” Splodge replied.

  “Of course, of course,” Mr Tree-Kangaroo said hurriedly, still fumbling in his pouch.

  Splodge eyed him suspiciously, while the traveller slowly emptied all sorts of odds and ends on the ground.

  “There’s my pipe, and there’s my tobacco,” he said as he pulled out a twig with a gum-nut attached to it, also several dry leaves, “and that’s my hanky,” pointing to a grubby piece of rag. “But where in the world is my money? Ah — here we are!” he exclaimed with a big sigh. “I knew I had it, and there’s my banking account for reference.” He handed Splodge a shiny sixpence, together with a piece of torn newspaper.

  “That’s all right!” Splodge said clapping him on the back, and dropping the sixpence in a rusty tin. “Don’t think for a minute I distrusted you,” he added. “But one has to be so careful in this business. Think what would happen if a couple of locusts got loose in the pantry!”

  “Ah — here we are!” he exclaimed with a big sigh.

  “Low fellows!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo sniffed.

  “Please sign the visitors’ book,” Splodge said handing the guest the pencil, “and do you mind not wetting it first — it’s that bluey stuff. If you jab hard enough it will show up.”

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo jabbed right through the page.

  “That’s a nuisance!” Splodge remarked ripping out the underneath page. “That’s all loss!” And flipping the paper over his shoulder, he called to Blinky to help the guest carry his luggage up the tree.

  “That’s a nuisance!”

  “Oh! — by the way, do you want breakfast in bed?” Splodge asked.

  “Is there any extra charge?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo asked.

  “Not if you get up and carry it there yourself,” Splodge answered.

  “Is this a cash-and-carry business?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo demanded crossly.

  “My apologies, sir!” Splodge said at once. “Perhaps I was over-eager to please you.”

  “And just a little too eager to please yourself,” the guest remarked haughtily. “Boy!” he shouted. “Help me up with my luggage.”

  “He doesn’t mean me, does he?” Blinky asked Splodge, pointing to the guest.

  “Yes, yes,” Splodge whispered hurriedly. “Help him up and be most polite. He’s a bit ruffled already.”

  “So am I!” Blinky declared. Then walking over to the guest he announced in a loud voice: “I’m Blinky Bill, and that’s what you’ve got to call me — not Boy!”

  “A modern child I suppose,” the guest remarked. “Never mind, we won’t quarrel over names; give my tail a lift up, boy — and be mighty careful the way you handle it. I’ve had rheumatiz in the end of it very badly lately. That’s why I’ve come here. A change of climate and a little warmth may work wonders.”

  “I’ll teach him not to call me Boy!” Blinky muttered as Mr Tree-Kangaroo started up the tree.

  “Lift it! Lift it!” he shouted irritably as Blinky made no effort to help with his tail.

  Rushing to his aid, Blinky grabbed the tip of the guest’s tail and lifted with all his strength.

  “That’s the idea!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo grunted with satisfaction — then a howl of pain came from his lips, as Blinky bit savagely the very tip of the gentleman’s tail. “That’ll teach him!” he grunted to himself.

  “It must be acute rheumatiz!” he said aloud, as Mr Tree-Kangaroo turned to inspect his tail.

  “The worst twinge I’ve ever had!” he remarked. “Let’s get up quickly. Another one of those and I’d die!”

  “Lift it! Lift it!”

  “They must be pretty painful,” Blinky replied, staggering under his load.

  “Dreadful! Dreadful!” the guest puffed, mopping his head with his handkerchief.

  Mrs Koala stood ready to receive her visitors, smiling and bowing graciously, while Nutsy stood behind her, peeping at the newcomer.

  “Ah! Here we are at last!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo remarked as he shook paws with his hostess. “You really need a rope and basket to heave people up,” he puffed.

  “That’s a fine idea!” Mrs Koala replied. “I’ll mention it to my manager.”

  “I’ll work it!” Blinky cried. “I’ll haul them ’cause it’s a man’s job.”

  “You go and speak to the manager about it,” Mrs Koala said to her son, “and ask him to make arrangements about fresh cabbages and potatoes, also carrots.

  “I’ve been so busy making up beds that I’ve forgotten to order food,” she explained to Mr Tree-Kangaroo.

  “That doesn’t sound like a home away from home,” he replied coldly. “Haven’t you anything for supper?”

  “Oh, yes! I’ve provided for that,” Mrs Koala said with a smile. “Let me show you to your room.” Leading her guest to a very large comfortable bed, padded well with leaves, she pulled a few branches together to make it more private.

  “This looks good!” her guest said turning back a few leaves and peering anxiously among them. “No spiders I hope!” he remarked off-handedly.

  “Dear me, no!” Mrs Koala said with a shocked expression. “This is a select guest house.”

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo flung himself on the bed with a sigh of relief.

  “Kindly take your boots off!” Mrs Koala said sternly. “This is a home away from home, and I’m sure you wouldn’t do that in your own home.”

  “I quite forgot!” her guest apologized. Taking his boots off he flung them on the floor — as he thought; but they went sailing down through the branches to land right on top of the manager’s head.

  “Dog’s body!” Splodge roared. “What was that?”

  “The guest’s feet,” Blinky remarked as he dodged the boots.

  “Disgusting fellow!” Splodge expounded. “For two whiskers I’d throw him out.”

  “But you can’t climb,” Blinky said looking at his friend.

  “I’ll shake him out if he doesn’t behave,” Splodge replied. “Anyway, what are you here for? Can’t you see I’m up to my tail in work.”

  Blinky gave his message to the surprised Splodge. “Now, where in the world am I to get all those things from?” he said scratching his head.

  “I know!” Blinky exclaimed. “Over at Farmer Scratchet’s. He’s got dozens and dozens of cabbages and carrots, and piles and piles of potatoes.”

  “You mean we’re to steal them?” Splodge asked.

  “Not exactly,” Blinky replied. “We’ll only borrow them.”

  “Kindly take your boots off!” Mrs Koala said sternly.

  “Borrow cabbages! And how do you think we’re going to return them when the guests have eaten them?” Splodge asked. “No! I’ll have to ask Farmer Scratchet if he’ll sell them to us.”

  Meanwhile three more guests had arrived all asking for accommodation.

  Mr and Mrs Goanna, and their daughter, a fair-skinned, shy little thing, who darted around the back of the tree and hissed loudly when Splodge looked at her.

  “We want a double bed and a single one!” Mrs Goanna said.

  “Run up and tell your mother to make up a double bed,” Splodge ordered Blinky.

  “She’s not going to sleep near me!” Blinky said pointing at little Daisy Goanna. “She makes noises like ginger-beer bottles going off!”

  “Are you referring to my Daisy?” Mrs Goanna asked with indignation.

  “She’s making awful noises,” Blinky retorted, “just like escaping steam.”

  “You mean we’re to steal them?”

  “Go up and deliver my message to your mother!” Splodge thundered, while he made efforts to calm Mrs Goanna.

  “A double bed!” Mrs Koala exclaimed, upon hearing the
message. “That’s strange — well — I’ll have to do it,” and straightaway she began piling the leaves from one bed on top of the other. “Fancy wanting a bed as high as that,” she said when the work was completed.

  “P’rhaps the guest’s a bower bird,” Nutsy suggested.

  “Good heavens! Hide my blue slippers,” Mrs Koala said excitedly. “They’ll steal anything blue, those bower birds.”

  “When is the dinner-gong going?” came from Mr Tree-Kangaroo’s direction.

  “Any time now,” Mrs Koala replied, still thumping and pushing the double bed into shape.

  A great deal of hissing suddenly sounded at the foot of the tree, and Mrs Koala peering down nearly fell from the branch with astonishment.

  “Good gracious! If it’s not the Goanna family, all hissing like a lot of boiling kettles. Quick, Nutsy! Get the tea ready.”

  The Goanna family hissed extraordinarily as they climbed the tree. With studied care they advanced step by step, their great banded bodies bending from side to side, while their eyes were fixed on one spot — Mrs Koala’s front door, or, in other words, the stout branch that served as a doorstep to the upper regions of the tree.

  “Here we are!” Mr Goanna hissed as he wriggled on to the branch, followed by his wife and daughter. Mrs Goanna peered through a lorgnette made from grass. “It could be made a little more attractive,” she hissed with her head in the air.

  “Good heavens! hide my blue slippers!”

  “I hope the menu will tempt our jaded appetites.”

  “Do you think it is quite select enough for us?” Daisy Goanna asked, peeping this way and that.

  “It all depends on who the other guests are,” Mrs Goanna replied. “We at least will give tone to the place.”

  “Sh-h-h! There’s the proprietress!” Mr Goanna hissed as Mrs Koala scrambled down the tree to greet them.

  “How do you do?” Mrs Goanna wheezed. “Is our suite ready?”

  “Come this way, please,” Mrs Koala replied with a bow. “Everything’s in readiness. One double bed and one single bed.”

  “We’ll rest for a few minutes before tea,” Mrs Goanna replied.

  “Follow me,” Mrs Koala said, leading the way until the suite was reached.

  “Where’s the double bed?” Mrs Goanna asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “There it is!” Mrs Koala replied pointing to the pile of leaves.

  “That’s a single bed!” Mrs Goanna said haughtily.

  “No, it isn’t!” Mrs Koala replied indignantly. “Look at all the leaves I’ve piled up. I took the top lot from another bed — that makes it double.”

  “How pathetic!” Mrs Goanna sniffed, turning her head away. “One can see yours is not a select guest house.”

  “It is select!” Mrs Koala replied crossly. “And I’m the selector. I’ll be pleased if you and your family will go elsewhere. I entertain only the best people.”

  “Oh! Did you hear that!” Daisy Goanna hissed in horror. “We the banded monitors, to be spoken to like that.”

  “Take your bands and your hissing away!” came a deep growl from Mr Tree-Kangaroo’s direction. “I’m waiting for my dinner and you’re holding it up.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Mr Goanna suddenly asked, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “Any rabbits?”

  “Certainly not!” Mrs Koala replied tartly. “The rabbits are our guests, and not to be put on the menu.”

  “Guests!” All the Goanna family hissed loudly. “Rabbits for guests!”

  “Do you know, we eat them by the dozen?” Mrs Goanna said with her head in the air.

  “How pathetic!” Mrs Goanna sniffed, turning her head away.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised!” Mrs Koala replied. “In fact nothing you did would surprise me.”

  “Come! Bertram. This is no place for respectable people like us,” Mrs Goanna said turning to her husband, and in less than a minute all three were shuffling down the tree again.

  “Old coppers! That’s what they are!” Mrs Koala said to Nutsy. “Hissing and spluttering around my place like a wash-day at the zoo.”

  “You should have poked them overboard,” Nutsy said sympathetically. “I wish Blinky had been here. He’d have done it!”

  “Is my tucker ready?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo sounded as though he was becoming impatient.

  “Yes, yes,” Mrs Koala called. “Come this way into the dining-room.”

  “Tie your apron and cap on,” she whispered to Nutsy. “And when he comes up, hand him a few gum-nuts to chew while I prepare his tea.”

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo climbed with great alacrity to the dining-room, where Nutsy stood, holding some gum-nuts. She bowed ever so sweetly as the gentleman sat down on the branch, and offered him the dainties.

  “What’s this? What’s this?” he said with a grunt, eyeing the nuts with suspicion.

  “They’re to chew. To keep you quiet till your tea is ready,” Nutsy replied sweetly.

  Then Mr Tree-Kangaroo did a dreadful thing. The rudest thing I have ever heard of. He raised his paw, gave a nasty smack with it, and sent the nuts sky-high. Poor Nutsy opened her mouth to cry; but Mrs Koala, who had seen everything (and very nervous she felt about it too), cried out:

  Then Mr Tree-Kangaroo did a dreadful thing.

  “I’m coming! I’m coming! Don’t get mad! Here’s your tea!”

  “What’s for tea?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo asked Nutsy, looking at her sternly, while she shivered from head to toes.

  “Chewing-gum or leaves,” she replied stuttering.

  “What’s chewing-gum?” Mr Tree-Kangaroo asked, glaring at Nutsy. “Is it something new?”

  “Not ’zactly,” Nutsy replied, fumbling with her paws. “It’s the same as gum-leaves, only you chew some leaves, and the others you just gobble.”

  “I see,” Mr Tree-Kangaroo said in a slow deliberate manner, while his whiskers seemed to be quivering in all directions at once. “And that’s what you expect guests to eat in a select house?”

  “Here you are! Here you are!” Mrs Koala cried, fairly pushing the leaves under his nose. “They’re the first of the season.”

  “And the last!” her guest roared as he pitched them in the same direction as the nuts.

  “My goodness!” Mrs Koala said under her breath. “What a dreadful temper!”

  “Give me my sixpence back!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo demanded loudly. “And my bank-book too!”

  “Inquire for them at the office,” Mrs Koala replied with her nose in the air. “Come, Nutsy, we will see if Blinky has returned with the cabbages.”

  “Cabbages!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo fairly shouted. “Have you any cabbages?”

  “They’re on order,” Mrs Koala replied with dignity. “But they are only for gentlemen. Good day!” and so saying, she and Nutsy climbed higher in the tree.

  “Pity I lost my temper,” Mr Tree-Kangaroo murmured to himself as he slowly climbed down the tree. “It’s years since I tasted a cabbage; but I suppose their cabbages would have slugs in them, so I’ve not missed much.

  “My sixpence and bank-book, please!” he announced to the astonished Splodge.

  “Aren’t you satisfied?” Splodge asked in surprise.

  “My sixpence and bank-book!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo thundered. “And look slick, my lad!”

  “There’ll be a penny charge for resting on the bed,” Slodge replied coldly. He, too, was beginning to get cross.

  “My sixpence and bank-book!” Mr Tree-Kangaroo roared.

  “Oh—for the love of spiders TAKE THEM!”

  “Oh, for the love of spiders, take them!” Splodge shouted as he hurled the rusty tin containing the treasures at the guest.

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo tucked his sixpence and piece of newspaper carefully in his pouch, eyeing Splodge all the while. “I’ll have a boxing-match with you some day, my young codger,” he said shaking his paw at Splodge.

  “Mind the step as you go out!” was Splodge’s reply, then turning his back on the irate guest
he spotted that gentleman’s shoes.

  “Hum-m-m!” he growled to himself. “He won’t get those anyway!”

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo had entirely forgotten his shoes, and it was not until his feet became sore, many, many miles farther on that he remembered them. “That’s goodbye to them,” he sighed sitting down to rest. Back at the office of “A Home Away From Home” the manager was slowly and carefully writing in a large book.

  Mr Tree-Kangaroo. Came and went.

  Profit — one pair of shoes.

  Loss — nothing.

  “Not too bad for the first try,” Splodge said to himself. “But I can see things want livening up a bit if we’re to make this business pay. Moonlight picnics, dancing in the bush, fishing excursions, snake-hunts — that’s the idea! I’ll go now and tell Mrs Koala what must be done. By the way it’s time that young shaver, Mr Blinky, was back. I wonder where he’s got to.” Almost simultaneously with Splodge’s thought Blinky came tumbling through the bush, a large cabbage tightly held between his front paws, and a pleased look on his face.

  “Where’d you get that?” Splodge shouted, staring coldly at the cabbage.

  “Over at Farmer Scratchet’s,” Blinky said proudly.

  “Did you come by it honestly?” Splodge demanded.

  “Yes!” Blinky replied, hugging the cabbage more tightly. “I asked Farmer Scratchet if he’d lend me a few cabbages and carrots, and Mrs Scratchet’s clothes-basket, and instead of saying ‘Certainly, Blinky!’ he roared at me and said he’d ‘give me ’zactly one minute to get off his premises.’”

  “And how did you come by that cabbage under those circumstances?” Splodge said sternly, pointing to the cabbage.

  “I just walked out of the gate, round the back of Farmer Scratchet’s house, popped under the fence and grabbed it before it had time to call out for help.”

  “That’s stealing!” Splodge thundered, “and sure as eggs that very same cabbage will choke you if you attempt to eat it.”

  “O-o-o-h! I didn’t know that!” Blinky said in surprise. “Will it choke all the guests too?”