by Enid Blyton
Jimmy’s heart sank. It was bad enough that Lal and Laddo were leaving, but Lotta too—that was dreadful!
“I shall be so lonely and miserable,” said Lotta, her tears dripping down Jimmy’s shirt again. “I like Uncle B-b-b-benjy—but I can’t bear to live in a house—I want to be with the circus—and you.”
“Why aren’t Lal and Laddo taking you with them?” asked Jimmy, surprised, for Lal and Laddo were fond of their clever little girl.
“Because they are going to Hungary for six months, to join Lal’s brother there,” said Lotta. “He is running a circus at Budapest, Lal says—and will pay them well if they go. And they want to buy new horses out there too. But they are not allowed to take me.”
She began to cry again, and Jimmy hugged her hard. Poor, poor Lotta! She belonged to the circus. She had never lived in a house. She would be so miserable with Uncle Benjy—she would have to go to school there, and she wouldn’t understand that a bit. She would miss her horses and Lal and Laddo—and Jimmy—dreadfully.
“When are they going?” asked Jimmy.
“After this show is finished,” said Lotta, rubbing her dirty little hand over her wet face. “They have told Mr. Galliano already. He is getting somebody else instead for Easter. They will bring their own horses, because Lal and Laddo are taking theirs with them.”
Jimmy was worried. That meant Lotta would go away very soon—in a few weeks. Whatever would he do without her? The little boy did not know what to say to comfort Lotta. As he sat curled up under the caravan with her, he heard Mr. Galliano shouting:
“Jimmy! Jimmy! Where are you?”
“Here, Mr. Galliano!” cried Jimmy, and he scrambled out. He ran to Mr. Galliano, and saw, to his surprise, that the ring-master’s top-hat was on perfectly straight. What could have happened to make him put it on like that?
“Jimmy, go to your mother,” said Mr. Galliano. “She has fallen over something and has hurt her leg. Your father has gone for the doctor.”
Jimmy went pale. He loved his mother best in all the world. He sped off to the caravan, forgetting all about poor Lotta.
Mrs. Brown was lying on her bed, looking ill. She smiled at Jimmy as he came up the steps.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “I’ve only twisted my ankle. It will soon be better.”
“What a dreadful morning this is!” thought Jimmy, putting some milk in a saucepan to heat for his mother. “First poor Lotta—and now Mother!”
The doctor soon came. He looked at Mrs. Brown’s leg. She had twisted it badly, and the ankle was very swollen.
“Nothing very terrible,” said the doctor cheerily, “but you’ll have to lie up for two or three weeks, Mrs. Brown.”
“Oh dear, I can’t do that,” said Mrs. Brown, alarmed. “Why, who would look after Jimmy and my husband? Who would cook their meals and see to the caravan?
No—I couldn’t do that. I can’t stay in bed!”
“You’ll have to,” said the doctor, looking grave. “If you don’t, that foot of yours will give you great trouble.”
“I’ll see that Mother rests her foot, Doctor,” said Jimmy. “I can do everything for her.”
“No, Jimmy, you can’t,” said Mrs. Brown. “You and Daddy are busy all day long—you won’t have time to spare to do my work too. I shall get up tomorrow.”
The doctor said no more. He went down the steps, and Jimmy and Mr. Brown thanked him for coming and paid him. Lotta was standing a little way off, her face still tear-stained.
“Jimmy,” she said, running up, “what’s the matter with your mother? Is she badly hurt?”
“No,” said Jimmy. “It’s just her foot. She’s got to rest it for two or three weeks—and she’s worried because she won’t be able to cook for us and look after the caravan. What a horrid day this is, Lotta.”
Lotta looked at Jimmy’s sad face and forgot her own troubles. “Jimmy, don’t forget what you once told me your mother said, when troubles come,” she said. ‘Tread on them and they will be stepping-stones to lead you to something good.’ Don’t worry—I’ll come and help each day.”
“I don’t see what good can possibly come out of a thing like this,” said Jimmy gloomily. “Or out of your troubles either, Lotta.”
“Don’t look like that, Jimmy,” said Lotta, who was trying to be brave. “I’ll promise to be good over my disappointment if you’ll promise not to worry too much about your mother, and will let me help all I can.”
“You’re a good friend, Lotta,” said Jimmy. “All right—we’ll both be brave. I don’t see how anything nice can possibly come out of this—how can we use troubles like these as stepping-stones to something better? Oh, how horrid everything is! But I must try not to worry.”
Lotta ran up the caravan steps to tell Mrs. Brown she would come and help each day. Mrs. Brown was glad. She loved the little girl—and Lotta knew by now just how Mrs. Brown liked things done. She knew that Mrs. Brown liked her stove kept clean. She knew that she liked the floor washed every day. She knew just how Mrs. Brown did her cooking. Oh, Lotta, knew a great deal, nowadays, that she hadn’t known before.
Jimmy went off to see to the dogs, and left Lotta to help his mother into bed. Lucky came to him, dancing about merrily, trying to make her little master smile. But Jimmy had no smiles that day. He could not forget that he was soon to lose his best friend—dear, naughty little Lotta.
Lotta began to forget her own troubles in helping Mrs. Brown. She got her comfortably to bed and saw to her poor foot. She ran out to get something for dinner. She put it on to cook, and chattered away to Mrs. Brown. She laid the tiny table beautifully, and Mrs. Brown thought what a clever, handy little girl she was.
Lotta and Jimmy were plucky that day. They did not tell Mrs. Brown a word about Lal and Lotta leaving. They kept their unhappiness to themselves, and smiled and talked to Mrs. Brown at dinner-time to keep her happy and cheerful. She was so pleased.
“I don’t know what I should do without, you, Lotta!” she said.
JIMMY AND LOTTA GET THEIR REWARD
The days passed by. Mrs. Brown’s foot was slow in getting better, and she was still not able to walk; but she did not mind now, for Lotta spent every minute she could with her, cleaning up the caravan, washing, cooking the meals, and talking to Mrs. Brown in her cheerful voice.
Jimmy was proud of Lotta, for he knew how sad the little girl’s heart was, as the days went by, and the time came nearer when she must leave the circus and go to live with Uncle Benjy, so far away. He wished Lotta could write better—for he was afraid she would never be able to write a proper letter to him. Six months seemed years and years—and perhaps Lal and Laddo might not come back even then.
One day three new people came to see Mr. Galliano. They were the riders that Mr. Galliano was going to have instead of Lal and Laddo. There were two women and one man, big strong folk, with kindly faces and ready smiles. Jimmy liked them at once. Their horses had come in a great box-like caravan, and Jimmy went to look at them. They were magnificent animals sleek, silky and good-tempered.
The three new riders—their names were Juanita, Pepita, and Lou—came over to their horses when they had finished talking to Mr. Galliano. They looked at the little boy and smiled. Juanita pointed to Lucky, who was dancing round her.
“This is the famous dog, Lucky?” she asked, in a soft, husky voice. “And you are Jimmy? We have heard of you.”
Jimmy went red with pride. To think that he was getting famous already! He didn’t know what to say. Sticky Stanley the clown, who was nearby, grinned and said “Oh, our Jimmy will have a circus of his own one day—won’t you, Jimmy? He’ll be the famous Mr. Jimmiano, and wear a top-hat twice as big as Mr. Galliano’s.”
Jimmy laughed. He patted the nearest horse. “These are lovely horses,” he said. “If you want any help with them, let me know. I always helped with Lal’s and Laddo’s horses each day, and so did Lotta.”
“Then you shall help with ours,” said Lou, and he smi
led at the little boy. “And Lotta too, whoever she is.”
“She’s a wonderful rider,” said Jimmy shyly. “You should just see the things she can do on horseback.”
Jimmy was pleased that the three new circus-folk were nice—but how he wished that Lal and Laddo were not going! But they were—their horses and dogs were already being packed into their travelling stables. It would not be long now before they went, and then Lotta would be put into the train and sent off to Uncle Benjy.
Mrs. Brown had heard that Lal and Laddo were going, but she thought that Lotta was going with them. She was sorry to think that Jimmy would lose his little friend, but as he said nothing to her, she thought perhaps he did not mind very much after all.
“I shall miss you very much, Lotta,” she said to the little girl. “You have been very good to me these two or three weeks. I wish you were not going away with Lal and Laddo.”
“I’m not going with them,” said Lotta, her eyes filling with tears. “They can’t take me. I’ve got to go and live with my Uncle Benjy—in a house—and I shall hate it.”
Mrs. Brown stared in surprise. “Don’t cry, dear,” she said. “Come here and tell me all about it. You and Jimmy didn’t say anything about this to me.”
“I know,” sobbed Lotta; “we didn’t want you to worry about us when you had a bad foot, and we thought that if we were brave, perhaps something good would come out of these horrid things—but nothing has. And I’m going on Saturday.”
Mrs. Brown patted the unhappy little girl, and thought hard. “Brave, kind children,” she thought. “Here’s Lotta being so kind and good to me all these days when she was unhappy, and Jimmy not saying a word.”
Then an idea came into her head. There was a fourth bunk-bed in the caravan—could she possibly keep Lotta with her and Jimmy, till Lal and Laddo came back? Lotta was a dear, useful child, and Mrs. Brown loved her. She could not bear to think of her going away all by herself to her Uncle Benjy—living in a house for the first time in her life—going to school and being laughed at because she did not know her lessons very well. Mrs. Brown hugged the little girl.
“Ask your mother and father if they can spare a minute to speak to me,” she said to Lotta. The little girl dried her eyes and ran off. Soon Lal and Laddo came up the steps to see Mrs. Brown.
“Run off and talk to Jimmy for a few minutes,” Mrs. Brown said to Lotta. The little girl went away. Mrs. Brown smiled at Lal and Laddo.
“I only heard a few minutes ago that you were not taking Lotta with you,” she said. “Now I love the child very much, and she is fond of us all. Don’t send her away to her uncle’s. Let me keep her for you till you come back. She will be happy here in our caravan with Jimmy and Brownie and me.”
Lal’s face beamed. “Oh, Mrs. Brown! Would you really take our Lotta for us? We hate to send her away, but she cannot stay in the circus alone. She would be so happy with you, and you would look after her well.”
“She would be a daughter to you,” said Laddo. “She will do more for you than she will for us.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Mrs. Brown, pleased. “Now perhaps you’ll find Jimmy and Lotta and send them here, and I will tell them. They both deserve a bit of good luck.”
The two children came up the steps, wondering why they had been sent for. Mrs. Brown smiled at them.
“I just want to tell you that something good has come out of our troubles,” she said. “Lotta is to stay with us, Jimmy—she is not to go to her uncle’s. She is to live in our caravan, and have the empty bed!”
The two children stared as if they could not believe their ears. Then they went quite mad with delight. They hugged Mrs. Brown. They hugged one another. They danced round the caravan and knocked over two saucepans, a stool, and candlestick. They jumped on the bed and off again. Really, Mrs. Brown couldn’t help laughing at the two of them.
Lotta suddenly burst into tears, but she was laughing all the time she was crying. “I’m not really c-c-c-crying,” she wept; “it’s only because I do feel so g-g-g-glad.”
“Well, it’s a funny way of showing it,” said Mrs. Brown. “You deserve a nice surprise, both of you—you’ve been brave, good children, and I haven’t heard a grumble from either of you.”
“Mrs. Galliano says grumblers get all the bad luck going,” grinned Jimmy. “So you won’t catch me grumbling, Mother. Oh, I say, Lotta—you’ll be able to ride the horses that Juanita, Pepita, and Lou have brought with them—and maybe if you’re good and patient they’ll let you go in the ring with them.”
“Oh, let me go into the ring with you and Lucky!” begged Lotta, bouncing on the bed again. “We could make up a fine turn together.”
“What fun we’ll have these six months!” cried Jimmy, doing a noisy dance on the floor of the caravan. “Oh, I was so down in the dumps—and now I’m up in the sky!”
“Well, you don’t sound like it,” said Mrs. Brown, as Jimmy danced noisily about. “I’m sure clouds wouldn’t be so noisy. Stop now, Jimmy, and go with Lotta to buy something for a nice meal.”
The children jumped down to the ground, as happy as blackbirds in spring. Jimmy ran to his special secret box where he kept his money. He took out a lot and Lotta’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know you were so rich, Jimmy,” she said. “What are you taking all that for?”
“Wait and see!” said Jimmy, making a face at Lotta. She made one back and they laughed. They were too happy for anything.
They went to the town and bought a fine meal, and then Jimmy went to a big draper’s shop—and what do you suppose he bought? He asked to see blankets and sheets and a mattress and eiderdown!
“They are for your little bunk-bed,” said Jimmy. “My present to you, Lotta! You shall be warm and cosy at night in our caravan.”
Lotta was excited. She had never had such lovely bedclothes before. In fact, she had never even slept between sheets before. Most of the circus-folk had rugs or blankets, but very seldom sheets. How grand Lotta would be!
Mrs. Brown laughed when she saw the two children coming home so laden. Lucky carried the basket of food in her mouth—she was a great help at shopping. They all crowded into the cosy caravan and then unpacked everything for Mrs. Brown to see.
Mr. Brown came in then, and had to be told the great news. He was delighted, for he too loved Lotta, and had been very pleased with the way the little girl had looked after them all whilst Mrs. Brown had had a bad foot.
“We shall be a jolly family of four now,” he said, smiling at them all as he sat down to his meal.
“No, five, Dad!” said Jimmy, as Lucky jumped up on his knee. “Don’t forget Lucky! You’ve been a great big piece of luck, haven’t you, little dog?”
“Wuff!” said Lucky, neatly taking half a sausage off Jimmy’s plate.
It was a very happy meal. Lotta looked round the bright, airy caravan and was glad to think it was to be her home for many months. She was glad to know she was not to leave the circus and, best of all, was not to leave Jimmy. They all began to talk excitedly.
“I’m going to help Jimmy with Lucky!”
“And Lotta’s going to ask if she can go in the ring with the three new riders,” said Jimmy. “They are such nice folk—I’m sure they will let Lotta do her turn.”
“And my foot is much better today, so I shall be able to get about and look after my large family,” said Mrs. Brown.
“And I shall keep you all in order and see that you don’t get too famous,” laughed Mr. Brown.
“Wuff, wuff, wuff!” said Lucky, joining in.
Well, Lal and Laddo went off with their horses and dogs, glad to think that their little Lotta was left behind in the care of such kind people. The circus packed up again, for it had to go on the road to its Easter show-place, where a splendid performance was to be given. A great bustle and hurry was in the camp, and Mr. Galliano cracked his whip and shouted orders for hours on end. Lotta and Jimmy loved it all. It was exciting.
And now, see, t
he circus is moving off once more! Here come the very fine row of black horses, with one of the grooms, dressed in red, sitting on the front horse, blowing a horn! How grand he looks!
Then comes a carriage that looks as if it is made of gold—and who is this handsome plump man and this smiling black-haired woman by his side? Why, the famous Mr. Galliano and his wife, of course! See him take off his hat and bow to all the watching people and children as if he were a king! See his fine moustache with sharp-pointed ends that turn upwards, and his shiny black top-hat!
Now the white horses come, and with them are Juanita, Pepita, and Lou, for these are the horses they brought with them. Pepita rides the first one proudly, looking as pretty as a picture in a blue, shiny frock. Behind comes Sticky Stanley the clown, dressed in red and black, with his high-pointed hat, turning cart-wheel somersaults all the way, much to the delight of the watching children.
And then a long string of gaily-coloured caravans—a red one—a blue one—a green one—and last of all a beautiful yellow one with pretty curtains flying in the breeze. On the steps, cuddling a black spaniel, sit a pair of children—Jimmy and Lotta, for it is their caravan. How all the children stare at the circus boy and girl and wish they belonged too!
And here comes the elephant, good old Jumbo, patient and kindly as ever, pulling three heavy cages behind him. Mr. Tonks walks by his side, and sometimes Jumbo puts his trunk round his trainer’s neck as if it were an arm. That makes everyone laugh.
Here are two open cages—one with Sammy, the chimpanzee, inside, eating a banana and throwing the peel at anyone he sees. Mr. Wally is sitting with him. In the next cage are three monkeys, sitting in a row on a perch, dressed in warm red coats; and riding on the step of their cage is a little man—Lilliput, of course—with his beloved monkey, Jemima, round his neck as usual. Ah, we know all the circus-folk well now!
But who is this marching along on hind legs carrying a flag, as proud as a general? Why, it is Lucky, little dog Lucky, who knows quite well that she will get biscuits if she shows off like this. Yes—too many biscuits.