by Enid Blyton
And Lucky said “Wuff!” in her loudest voice, which meant, “I’ll always be the same!”
Prunella Loses Her Temper
LOTTA did not know that Lisa had told such an untruth about her. She was soon very puzzled because Jimmy did not seem to want to speak to her, or even to look at her; as for joking with her as he used to do, or slipping his arm through hers, those were things he never did now.
“I suppose he is still cross because I play with Lisa and Jeanne,” thought Lotta, frowning. “Well, why shouldn’t I? I’ve never had girls to play with before, and I do like their dolls. I wish Lisa and Jeanne would give me one—I’ve never had a doll of my very own.”
Jimmy was not at all happy. It was dreadful to think that Lotta had got him into trouble on purpose. He didn’t go near her if he could help it, though when they practised together for their turn in the ring with Lucky and Black Beauty, they had to be with one another. But they did not need to practise this turn very much, for they knew it so well. So they got through it as quickly as possible, and then Lotta went as usual to play with Lisa and Jeanne, and Jimmy went to help his father.
He was not unhappy only because of Lotta. He was unhappy because he had been forbidden to go into any of the animals’ cages. He couldn’t play with the bears. He mustn’t visit old Sammy the chimpanzee. He couldn’t go near Neptune. He didn’t even like to peep in at Lilliput’s monkeys, who were now in their cage all day.
The only thing he could do was to go and talk to Mr. Tonks, whose big elephant, Jumbo, was tied by the leg to a great tree. Jumbo was too big to go in a cage. He was out in the field, and was always pleased to see Jimmy. He lifted the boy on top of his huge neck, and gently blew his hair up straight—a favourite trick of old Jumbo’s.
“Cheer up, Jimmy,” said Mr. Tonks, seeing the boy’s dull face. “You look as gloomy as a wet hen.”
“Well, Mr. Tonks, things aren’t the same since Mr. Galliano went,” said Jimmy. “You know they aren’t.”
“My boy, I’ve seen lots of changes in my lifetime,” said little Mr. Tonks. “It doesn’t do to worry about them too much. You can get used to anything.”
“But I don’t want to get used to some things,” said Jimmy. “Look at poor old Sammy, moping in his cage all day long—not even I am allowed to go and play with him now. It isn’t good for him after being allowed free. And you know how the bears loved me to go and play with them. The cub, Dobby, cries after me when I go by without playing with him.”
“Yes, that isn’t good,” said Mr. Tonks, lighting his pipe. “Britomart can put on a fine circus-show, but he doesn’t understand animals as you and I do, Jimmy—or as Mr. Galliano did. You know, you don’t usually find as much freedom in a circus as Mr. Galliano allowed in this one—so you miss it and feel unhappy about it. Cheer up—you’ll soon get used to it.”
“Well, anyway, I can come and have a talk to old Jumbo,” said Jimmy, scratching the elephant’s thick skin with a laugh. “Britomart said I wasn’t to go to any animals in a cage, except the dogs and horses—so as old Jumbo isn’t in a cage I can still come and play with him!”
“Hrrrrumph!” said Jumbo, exactly as if he understood what Jimmy was saying.
“Do you like Britomart, Mr. Tonks?” asked Jimmy after a bit.
Mr. Tonks looked round to make sure nobody couldhear him. “No, I don’t,” he said. “Few people do—and Britomart doesn’t want to be liked. He only wants to be feared. There are a few people he is nicer to than others, because they can be useful to him—Pierre, for instance, and Google the clown, who have both done him good turns in other circuses.”
“How strange not to want to be liked,” said Jimmy. “I don’t want to be afraid of Britomart, but I believe I am, Mr. Tonks.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of anyone, Jimmy—a clever, honest, good-natured boy like you!” said Mr. Tonks, ruffling Jimmy’s hair. “You just get on with your work in your best way and don’t worry about Britomart. Things will come right, don’t fret.”
Jimmy went red with pleasure to hear Mr. Tonks’s kind words. He smiled at the little elephant-man and went away, comforted. But almost at once he met Lotta running round a van. They bumped into one another, and Lotta laughed.
For a moment Jimmy wanted to laugh too. Then he remembered that Lotta had played him that mean trick and got him into trouble, and he didn’t laugh. He turned away in silence.
“Jimmy!” cried Lotta. “What’s the matter? Are you cross because I play with Lisa and Jeanne? I’ll come for a walk with you and the dogs this morning, if you like.”
“No, thank you,” said Jimmy. “I expect you only say that because the two girls have gone down into the town, and you just happen to have nothing to do. I don’t like girls—they play mean tricks.”
Lotta didn’t know what he meant. She stared after him. “I don’t play mean tricks!” she cried.
“Oh yes, you do,” said Jimmy, and he went off with his head in the air. Lotta tossed her own head and ran off angrily. All right—Jimmy could be horrid if he liked. She didn’t care!
She went to Madame Prunella. Prunella was putting her parrots through their usual practice. One of them was saying, “Pop goes the weasel” very solemnly.
“Half a pound of tuppenny rice,Half a pound of treacle, Stir it up and make it nice, POP goes the weasel!”
At the word POP all the other parrots joined in, and Gringle cackled with laughter. Lotta laughed too. She poked Sally, a big parrot, and whispered “Britomart,” to her.
Sally at once began the naughty little rhyme that Prunella had taught her:“Britomart Thinks he’s smart, But he’s got a stony heart!”
Neither of them saw that Britomart himself was nearby. The conjurer heard what the parrot shouted, and turned when he caught his own name. The parrot repeated the rhyme at the top of its voice, and then screeched with laughter.
Britomart strode over to the caravan. Lotta was stroking the parrot and tickling it. “Say it again, Sally,” she said. “Say it again.”Then she looked up and saw Britomart standing nearby, his black eyes cold and angry. Sally began the rhyme again, her crested head cocked wickedly on one side.
“Hush!” said Lotta, and she nudged Madame Prunella to make her see who was standing near. Prunella looked up—but she didn’t care tuppence for Britomart. He opened his mouth and began to speak, coldly and angrily.
At a little sign from their mistress the parrots set up their great screeching and squealing again, to drown the ring-master’s deep voice. But this time Britomart was not to be beaten. He knew that it was no use trying to stop the parrots’ noise—so he took firm hold of Madame Prunella’s fat little arm, and made her come with him to where he could talk and be heard.
Prunella tried to shake off his hard fingers, but it was no use. Britomart was so strong that he could have lifted her up with one of his fingers and thumb.
“That parrot of yours will repeat his rhyme in the ring one night, Madame Prunella,” said the ring-master. “And then, Madame, that will be the end of him.”
“How dare you take hold of me in this way!” squealed Madame Prunella, flying into a temper at once. “Let go my arm. How dare you threaten one of my parrots!”
“That parrot will stay on its perch, and will not go into the ring, Madame Prunella,” said Britomart. “I don’t trust you. You have only to lose your temper in the ring one night to have all your parrots shouting stupid things about me. Now go back to your caravan and think over what I have said. That parrot does not go into the ring again!”
He let Prunella go, and the angry little woman shook her fist at Britomart’s back, and screeched like a parrot.
“Sally’s one of my best birds. She shall go into the ring—yes, and she shall sing many things about Britomart the conjurer.”
She went back to her parrots, tears pouring down her cheeks, her hair standing on end. Lotta was waiting, wondering what Prunella was going to do.
“Madame Prunella,” began Lotta, meaning t
o say that she was sorry she had made Sally begin the rhyme about Britomart without seeing if he was nearby. But Prunella would not let her say a word. When she was angry, she was angry with everyone, friend or enemy alike. She glared at the little girl, and shouted at her.
“Go away! Pestering me like this! Go away!” She picked up her broom and began to sweep at Lotta. The little girl nearly fell over. She took one look at Prunella’s angry red face, and ran off at top speed.
“Sausages and SMASH!” yelled Gringle after her.
“Well, there’s plenty of ‘smash’ about,” thought Lotta, as she heard things crashing behind her, when Prunella’s broom knocked over pails and boxes. “Gringle’s right! Goodness! It looks as if Madame Prunella’s going to sweep up the whole circus!”
But after a time Prunella became quieter and took all her parrots into the cage. She meant to teach them something that would give Britomart a shock.
“The whole circus can be afraid of Britomart for all I care!” said Prunella. “I’m not afraid of him—and I’ll soon show him what I can do!”
More Trouble!
ALTHOUGH all these upsets and quarrels went on in the camp, the show itself was splendid every night, for Britomart was a fine ring-master. The circus-folk knew that there was plenty of money coming in, and they were pleased about this. Pierre, the seal-trainer, was especially pleased, for he had not been lucky for some time.
So he chatted amiably with Britomart and praised the way he did things. Mrs. Pierre kept the conjurer’s caravan clean for him, and the two girls, Lisa and Jeanne, went to help too. Not that they did anything much in the way of work, but they loved to try and peep at some of the things he used in his magic tricks.
“Look”!” said Lisa, one morning. “Here’s his magic black wand, Jeanne! It has rolled under this chest. Let’s borrow it for a bit and see if we can do tricks with it.”
The two girls smuggled it into their own caravan. But although they did their best with it, it did no tricks for them. They showed it to Lotta, and her eyes grew wide as she looked at Britomart’s strange wand.
“Oooh!” she said. “However did you dare to take that? You’d better put it back.”
“You try to do some tricks with it,” said Lisa, putting it into the little girl’s hands. “See if canaries come flying through the air, or goldfish swimming out of the ground!”
Just as Lotta was waving it in the air, Pierre came along. “Hide it, quick!” said Jeanne. “We shall get into trouble if our father knows we took that.”
Lotta slipped the wand down the front of her frock and went to her own caravan with it. She put it under her mattress, meaning to try and see if she could do magic tricks with it later on. She knew that it was time for her to go and practise in the ring with Jimmy.
She and Jimmy hadn’t made up their quarrel. Lotta was obstinate, and Jimmy was still hurt because he thought it was Lotta who had unlocked the seal’s door and let the animal out after him.
“I shan’t be nice again to Lotta till she owns up about that mean trick and says she’s sorry,” thought the boy to himself.
But as Lotta hadn’t played the mean trick and didn’t even know that Jimmy thought she had, she couldn’t possibly own up to it! So things went on just as badly as before, and Lotta grew spiteful and rude, and Jimmy quiet and angry. It was all very horrid indeed.
That evening in the ring there was trouble—over Madame Prunella’s parrots, of course. That angry little woman had spent two days teaching them a few new things!
She took Sally into the ring although Britomart had forbidden her to—and of course, Sally began her usual loud song of “Britomart, thinks he’s smart” much to the ring-master’s rage.
He cut Prunella’s turn short, and ordered her out of the ring—but Prunella loosed all her parrots at once and they flew around the ring-master, screeching and squealing: “Horrid Britomart!”
“Silly Britomart!”
“Get your moustaches cut! Get your moustaches cut!” (That was Sally, who learnt anything after hearing it said two or three times!) “Poor old Britomart—poor old Britomart!” screeched another parrot in a doleful voice.
Of course, all the people thought that this was part of the show, and they roared with laughter. How they laughed and clapped! But Britomart was not pleased at all. He cracked his whip about the ring, and gave the parrots a fright. One of the things that the ring-master hated more than anything else in the world was to be laughed at, and he was very angry indeed now.
Prunella was afraid that he might hurt one of her parrots with the whip and she called them to her. They fluttered down to her arms and shoulders and head, and grinning cheekily, she bowed to all the clapping people. Her act was cut short—but she had got more claps than usual, all the same!
Britomart followed her out of the ring. “You will be sorry for this,” he said in a furious voice. “I will see you tomorrow morning.”
Prunella laughed. She skipped off with her parrots, and fetched her cloak. Lotta was standing nearby, waiting her turn to go into the ring with Black Beauty.
“That was fun, Madame Prunella!” she whispered. “Weren’t your parrots naughty!”
But the other circus-folk looked rather grave. They felt certain that Britomart would punish Prunella in some way, and then things would be worse than ever.
Britomart had missed his black wand that evening, and had hunted everywhere for it. He called Mrs. Pierre to him about it.
“Did Lisa and Jeanne help you clean my caravan today?” he asked. “They did? Well, call them here. They may have seen my black wand.”
The two girls came, rather scared, Britomart looked at them and saw at once that they had guilty faces. They knew something about his wand.
“You found my wand this morning, didn’t you?” he said. “Bad girls! What did you do with it?”
Lisa was always quick at telling untruths to get herself out of trouble, so she answered in a hurry: “Oh, Mr. Britomart, we did find it. It was under the chest there, but Lotta snatched it from us and took it away to see if it would do tricks for her. She wouldn’t give it back though we told her to.”
“So!” said Britomart, frowning, till his big black eyebrows met over his nose. “Lotta again! Tell her to come to me.”
But Lotta had gone down into the town with her mother, and it was almost time for the show to begin when they came back. So she didn’t know anything about the story that naughty Lisa had told about her. She had forgotten about the wand too—it was still under her mattress! She had meant to put it back in Britomart’s caravan and had quite forgotten.
She couldn’t think why the ring-master looked at her so frowningly as she did her turn on Black Beauty that night. The pony was as clever as ever, and the little girl loved to feel his shiny black body beneath her, as she stood on him, sat, and knelt—even crawling right under his body as he galloped round and round the ring!
When the show was over she ran to look for Jimmy. “I say, Jimmy,” she said, “do you think poor Madame Prunella will get into dreadful trouble tomorrow? What do you think Britomart will do? Will he send her away? Will he forbid her to go into the ring? Will he not pay her any money at all?”
Jimmy forgot that he wasn’t friends with Lotta, and the two children stared at one another solemnly in the glaring lights that shone over the circus-field. They both liked Madame Prunella, and did not want anything horrid to happen to her.
“I don’t know what Britomart will do,” said Jimmy at last. “Anyway, all I know is this—I certainly don’t want to get into trouble with him. Mr. Galliano had a temper, but Britomart is far worse. Mr. Galliano got into a temper, blew up, and forgot about it at once—but Britomart remembers always. That’s why he never smiles, I expect—because he is always remembering horrid things!”
“Did you see how angrily he looked at me this evening?” asked Lotta. “I wondered what I’d done. I can’t think of anything at all!”
Mrs. Brown called Jimmy, and he ran
off with Lucky. He too had noticed Britomart watching Lotta angrily, and he had wondered why.
Jimmy and Lotta both lay awake that night and thought about Madame Prunella. They liked the excitable little woman very much, and neither of them liked to think of her in trouble. They felt sure that Britomart would send for her first thing in the morning.
And so he did. He called Pierre to him and gave him an order. “Tell Madame Prunella I want her here in my caravan AT ONCE,” he said in his deepest voice.
“Very good, sir,” said Pierre, and went to tell Prunella.
But he couldn’t find her caravan! It wasn’t in its usual place. Pierre scratched his head and looked puzzled. Why had Prunella left her usual place? He looked round the enormous field, full of vans and carts and cages, and tried to see where Prunella had gone to.
He wandered round, looking for her gay caravan. He called Jimmy to him. “Have you seen Madame Prunella’s caravan this morning?” he asked.
“No,” said Jimmy, surprised. “Why, isn’t it where it usually is, over by the stream?”
“No, she’s moved it,” said Pierre. “Oh my, there’s Britomart yelling for me. Look round for Madame Prunella, there’s a good boy, and tell her she’s to go to Britomart AT ONCE!”
Britomart was impatiently waiting for Pierre. “What are you wandering all round the field for?” he said. “Where is Madame Prunella?”
“She seems to have moved her caravan, sir,” said Pierre. “I was just looking for it.”
Britomart made an angry noise and went down his caravan steps. He gazed round. He knew every van, cart, and cage.
“I can’t see her caravan,” he said at last. Then Jimmy came running up. “Please, sir, Madame Prunella isn’t in the camp at all! Her caravan is gone! There are wheel-marks, new ones, going out of the gate! She must have put in her horse by herself last night, and stolen out quietly whilst we all slept.”
“Pah!” said Britomart in anger. “How dare she leave my circus like that! She is part of the show. She has no right to do that without warning me. I shall see that she does not easily get a job in a circus again.”