Jennings and His Friends

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Jennings and His Friends Page 2

by Antony Buckeridge


  "Mr Carter," he said. "He's coming here."

  Jennings wanted to put the parcel quickly under his raincoat. But when he took it from the ground the newspaper dissolved into pulp and the fish fell on the ground. For a moment Jennings did not know what to do. Then, quickly, he began to put the fish into his raincoat pockets.

  "Don't stand there, Darbi! Do something!" said Jennings.

  Darbishire began to put the fish in his pockets too. Jennings had soon found a place of all except one.

  At that moment he saw Mr Carter. Jennings took of his cap, put the last fish in it, and put the cap on quickly.

  Mr Carter was a very kind and cleaver man, and all the boys in the boarding school liked him.

  "Good afternoon, sir, " said Darbishire and took of his cap.

  Jennings looked at him angrily. "Why did he do that. He knows well that I can't take of my cap," he thought.

  "Good afternoon. You've come back early," said Mr Carter. "Did you have a good walk?"

  "Yes, thank you, sir. We went to the harbour," said Jennings. " I took very good photos of a fishing boat and some fishermen."

  At that moment Darbishire saw that Mr Carter was looking at Jennings' cap.

  "They were Frenchmen, sir," said Darbishire. "And I had a little talk with them."

  "Yes, sir," said Jennings, "they were Frenchmen and Darbishire called them 'fish'."

  "Oh, sir, I didn't call them that, sir! Jennings doesn't know French well and he couldn't understand what I said to them."

  "And could the Frenchmen?" asked Mr Carter.

  "Yes and no, sir," said Darbishire.

  "Well, the first thing which you two boys can do, is to go and take the fish out of your pockets."

  So Mr Carter knew about the fish!

  Mr Carter turned to Jennings.

  "Fish may be good for the brain, but not when you put them in the head under your cap."

  "I'm sorry, " said Jennings. "They are a present. We didn't want to take them but we didn't know how to say it in French."

  "I see. Well, I think you must take the fish out of your pockets. After that Jennings, you can hang your coats in the school yard and then wash you hair."

  "Yes, sir."

  When Mr Carter left the boys Jennings looked at his friend's sad face and said, "why are you so sad, Darbi? We'll develop the photos and then - well, Mr Carter didn't say we mustn't eat them, did he?"

  "The photos?"

  "No, you silly. Why don't you listen when I talk to you?"

  "Mr Carter said..."

  "He didn't say that we mustn't eat the fish. He said that we must take them out of our pockets. We can take them out of our pockets and put them in my tuck-box. Then we can fry them with pepper and salt."

  Before tea Jennings and Darbishire began to prepare for the next day. They had to ask permission to use the dark room. They decided not to ask Mr Carter. So they asked Mr Hid, a History an Music teacher. Mr Hid was a good photographer and was only to happy to give his permission. Then the boys had to get some butter. They did not eat any butter at tea-time, but took it out of the dining hall in an envelope.

  Chapter Five

  "Wonderful" Breakfast.

  It was seven o'clock when Jennings got out of bed the next morning and began to wake Darbishire up. But Darbishire did not want to get up so early. The weather was bad: it was raining, and his bed was so warm.

  "Can't we do it some other time? One day next week, for example," Darbishire said.

  "No, we can't. The fish won't keep."

  Darbishire got up and began to dress.

  The boys dressed and went out of the dormitory. They went to the tuck-box room for the fish and then to the dark room. When they went into the dark room Darbishire quickly bolted the door.

  "It's good we didn't meet any teacher in the corridor," he said. "What shall we do first -fry the fish or develop the film?"

  "I've developed the film already," Jennings answered to his friend's surprise. "I came here yesterday after supper. So now we have a lot of time for our wonderful breakfast."

  "Are the photos good?" asked Darbishire.

  "Y-y-yes," answered Jennings.

  That was not the time to talk about the photos. Jennings took a developing dish and washed it. Then he took the butter from his pocket and some fish from the parcel, and put them on the developing dish.

  "Shut the window, Darbi. If there is somebody in the school yard he will know that we are not developing a film if he sees that the window is open."

  The window-panes were black, and when Darbishire shut the window it was dark in the room. Jennings took a candle out of the red lamp, and lit it. Then he lit the gas and held the developing dish over the gas. And then!..

  Tongues of flame were licking the sides of the developing dish and leaping towards the ceiling.

  Jennings dropped the developing dish on the floor.

  "What's the matter?" asked Darbishire.

  Jennings did not answer. The developing dish was burning on the floor. Jennings took the parcel of fish from the table and dropped it on the burning developing dish. The boys saw a cloud of smoke but the fire was out.

  "What's the matter?" Darbishire repeated his question.

  "The developing dish was celluloid," answered Jennings.

  "But why did you use a celluloid developing dish, Jen? Every little boy knows that it burns."

  "Let's not talk about it. It's all over now."

  But it was not all over. The room was full of smoke. The boys began to cough.

  "Open the window, quick," said Jennings.

  Darbishire ran up to the widow and put his head out into the cool morning.

  "You don't know, Jen, what a nice and cool morning it is!" he said and took off his spectacles.

  Then he put his spectacles on again, looked through them and quickly shut the window.

  "What's the matter?" asked Jennings.

  "Mr Wilkins! He is out in the school yard! He saw my head."

  "What shall we do?"

  The boys stood and listened. The room was still full of smoke. Soon they heard a knock on the glass.

  "Open the window! It was Mr Wilkins. He couldn't see through the black window - panes.

  "Open the window, at once!" repeated Mr Wilkins.

  No answer. What are these silly little boys doing there, he wondered? Had they hurried out of the room when they saw him? He went away from the window, turned the corner of the building and went in the door.

  "He's coming," said Darbishire. "What shall we do? He knows we weren't developing: we couldn't do it with the window open."

  "Let's open the window," said Jennings. "The room is still full of smoke. He's be near the dark room in a minute, and we'll have to open the door."

  Darbishire opened the window and the boys began to clean the room.

  "Open this door!" It was Mr Wilkins again. Now he was at the door.

  "Where shall we put the parcel?" asked Jennings.

  There was no place for it, and Jennings decided to hold the parcel behind his back under his coat.

  "Will you open the door?" Mr Wilkins was very angry.

  Darbishire opened the door and Mr Wilkins came in.

  "What are you doing here?"

  The boys did not answer. But Mr Wilkins' nose answered the question. "Something is burning."

  "Yes, sir. A developing dish caught fire by chance. But now it's all over, sir."

  "We'll soon see," said Mr Wilkins and began to walk round the room.

  Jennings walked behind him: he couldn't turn his back on Mr Wilkins.

  "I don't know much about photography," said Mr Wilkins. "But if you can burn the building when you develop a film it is not a hobby that I like. Do you have permission to be in here, boys?"

  "Yes, sir, yesterday Mr Hind gave us permission to develop the film, but I don't think that he knows that we are here now."

  "So you don't have permission to be here now. And you've got up before the bell! Go to my roo
m and wait for me at the door."

  "Yes, sir."

  Jennings went out of the room with his back to the door. Darbishire went after him.

  Chapter Six.

  Jennings Hides the Parcel.

  When the boys went along the corridor Darbishire said, "What are we going to do? We can't take this parcel to Old Wilkie's room, can we?"

  "We must hide it somewhere."

  "But where?"

  They went to Mr Wilkins' door.

  "What shall we do? He'll be here in a minute," said Darbishire. Jennings decided to do something.

  "Open his door, quick," he said to Darbishire.

  "You are not going to hide it in Old Wilkie's room - are you?"

  "There is no other place, is there?"

  Darbishire opened the door and the boys went into Mr Wilkins' room. It was a small room. There was a table, three chairs, an arm-chair, a cupboard and a bookcase in it. The boys looked around and understood that there was no place to hide the parcel.

  From the corridor they heard Mr Wilkins' footsteps.

  "Go out and talk to him," said Jennings.

  "What about?"

  "I don't know. Something interesting. The weather, for example."

  "The weather?..."

  "Please, Darbi, do as I say."

  Darbishire left his friend and hurried to the corridor. Mr Wilkins was coming up to his room and his face told Darbishire that the teacher was not going to talk to him about the weather.

  "What were you doing in my room, Darbishire?" he asked.

  "I... I... I... am coming out, sir."

  "I can see that. But I told you to wait at my door."

  Mr Wilkins opened the door and went into his room. Darbishire went after him. He was so frightened that he closed his eyes. When he opened them he was greatly surprised.

  Jennings was standing on the carpet. He had no parcel in his hands. There was no parcel under his coat either. Darbishire looked around the room. "Where has Jennings hidden the parcel?" Darbishire could not answer this question. He looked around the room again.

  "What's the matter with you, Darbishire?" asked Mr Wilkins. "Have you lost anything?"

  "No, sir. Thank you, sir," answered Darbishire.

  "Darbishire and Jennings, you developed the photos without permission, and you did it before the bell. So you will do an hour's work for me on Saturday afternoon."

  "Yes. Sir. May we go, sir?"

  "You may."

  When the boys went out into the corridor Jennings said, "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it? If he knew that we fried fish in the dark room!"

  "Yes, where is it?" asked Darbishire.

  "The dark room? You know that well."

  "No, where is the parcel of fish?"

  "Oh, that! Well, I had to do something, quick."

  "And what did you do, quick?"

  I put it in Old Wilkie's chimney."

  "What!"

  "What could I do? It was all very fine for you to stand at the door, and I..."

  "But we can't leave the parcel there for ever."

  "No, we can't. but we have to say goodbye to our early breakfast."

  At that moment the breakfast bell rang, and Jennings and Darbishire went down to the dining hall.

  "Where have you been?" Venables asked when Jennings and Darbishire sat down at breakfast.

  "Yesterday Mr Hind said that I could develop my film in the dark room. And when we were using a developing dish as a frying pan it began to burn. At that moment Old Wilkie came..."

  "Why did you fry the photos?" asked Venables.

  "Oh, I don't mean the photos. We were frying the fish."

  "What fish?"

  "The fish in Old Wilkie's chimney."

  Venables could not understand it. Then Darbishire explained it all to him.

  "It will be easy to take it from the chimney when Old Wilkie isn't in the room," said Venables.

  "It is all very fine for you to talk," said Jennings. "I'd like to see you do it."

  Of course, Jennings had decided to get the parcel from the chimney, but he did not want to let anybody say that it was easy.

  Darbishire did not eat much at breakfast that morning. He was thinking about his plan to get the parcel back from Mr Wilkins' chimney. "I'll go to Old Wilkie's room," thought Darbishire, "and knock at the door. If there is no answer it will mean that there is nobody in the room. If there is an answer - well, then I'll see what to do. But I must do in quickly. Today is Monday, and this evening Jennings and I wanted to begin to print the first issue of the Form Three Times."

  Chapter Seven

  Vain Attempts

  Mr Wilkins was reading a morning newspaper when he heard the first knock at his door. He called: "Come in!" Nobody came.

  Mr Wilkins went to the door, opened it, and saw Darbishire who was running along the corridor.

  "Darbishire!" he shouted.

  At that moment one of Derbyshire's house-shoes came off and he stopped.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm putting on my house-shoe."

  "I can see that. This doesn't explain why you knocked at my door and then ran along the corridor. Do you want to see me?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then what do you want?"

  Darbishire thought. Of course, he did not want to see anybody in Mr Wilkins' room. But he could not say it. What did he want then? There must be something that he could want.

  "I want a stamp, sir. I want to write a letter to me grandmother."

  "If you wanted a stamp why didn't you ask for it?" asked Mr Wilkins.

  He went into his room and towards his desk. Darbishire stopped at the door and looked at the fireplace. Mr Wilkins took a stamp from the desk and gave it to Darbishire. Darbishire thanked him and left the room.

  He often visited Mr Wilkins' room that day. But every time Mr Wilkins was in his room. He asked for another stamp, then another and another. During the day Mr Wilkins gave him four stamps. Another time he asked Mr Wilkins for a ruler, then for an eraser. Before dinner he asked Mr Wilkins for his autograph. After dinner he came to ask whether "Sir" could tell him what the time was. It was five o'clock, and Mr Wilkins decided to go for a walk: he was very tired of Derbyshire's visits.

  "If that child comes to my room again he will be unlucky." Mr Wilkins said to himself as he was leaving his room.

  Darbishire was unlucky. He was also very tired and decided not to go to Mr Wilkins' room any more. He went to the common room and saw Jennings there. Jennings was gathering the news for the first issue of the Form Three Times.

  "Where have you been, Darbi?" his friend asked. "Every break when I wanted your help you had gone somewhere."

  "I wanted to get that parcel back," said Darbishire.

  "Did you get it back?"

  "No, I didn't. every time I went to Old Wilkie's room he was there."

  "If we can't get that parcel back soon he will not be able to sit in his room. Soon he'll begin to wonder what's going on in his room."

  "Let's better think out a plan how we can get the parcel back," said Darbishire.

  "Let's." Jennings thought and then said, "We'll have a football game on Wednesday. Old Wilkie will be the referee. At the end of the game I'll hurry to his room, and you'll ask Old Wilkie some questions about the game and keep him on the field. All right?"

  "All right," said Darbishire, he liked the plan.

  Then they began to print the Form three Times. For a while they put the rubber letters in the printing block. After three quarters of an hour passed they were already tired. They began to understand that to print a short letter was one thing, and to print a big wall newspaper was another.

  "We shall never finish it," said Jennings. We must print twelve pages for the newspaper. After three quarters of an hour we are only on the second line of page one. It'll take us..." he thought, "ninety-six weeks to print twelve pages."

  "I don't want to say anything bad about your Aunt Angela's pre
sent, but if we had had a typewriter..."

  "We don't know how to type and we haven't a typewrite."

  "No, but Mr Carter has," said Jennings quickly.

  "I don't think Mr Carter will let us borrow his typewriter."

  "I don't think so either. But I think he may type the newspaper for us."

  Mr Carter was correcting mistakes in his pupils' exercise-books when he heard a knock at his door.

  "Come in!" he called.

  Jennings and Darbishire came into Mr Carter's room.

  "Well, boys, what can I do for you?" asked Mr Carter.

  "Well, sir, Darbishire and me would like you to do us a favour, sir," Jennings began.

  "No, Darbishire and I would like you to do us a favour, Jennings," he corrected.

  Jennings looked at Mr Carter in surprise.

  "Did you, sir? Darbishire never told me," said Jennings.

  "I mean, Jennings, that you must say 'Darbishire and I', not 'Darbishire and me'."

  "Yes, sir. Well, will you do Darbishire and I a favour, please, sir?"

  "This time, Jennings, it's correct to say 'Darbishire and me'."

  "All right, sir. Darbishire and I or me are writing a wall newspaper and we wondered if you could lend us your typewriter to type the newspaper."

  "I don't think I can lend you me typewriter. It's not a toy, you know."

  "I know, sir. It's not a toy, sir," said Jennings. "We think so, too. Excuse me, sir."

  But the boys were not going to leave the room. They stood and hoped. Mr Carter understood what that hope meant.

  "Of course," he said, "I may type it for you. But let me see what you are going to write in your newspaper."

  Jennings gave Mr Carter the exercise book. Mr Carter read it slowly, then said, "Very well. I'll type it for you. Is this all?"

  "No, sir. We want to organize one or two competitions," answered Darbishire, "but we haven't decided yet what they are going to be."

  "Why not have a handwriting competition," said Mr Carter.

  "Very good, sir," said Darbishire. "That will be one competition. And for the second competition we can have... what?"

  Mr Carter spoke again.

  "Why not ask your readers to write a poem or something like that."

 

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