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Authors: Enid Blyton

Tags: #Adventure, #Children

Anytime Tales (8 page)

BOOK: Anytime Tales
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“Sweeeeeeep, sweeeeep, sweeeep!” went the broom all over the yard. Dust was swept up, paper was cleared into a heap, bits and pieces went into a neat pile. The job was soon done, I can tell you!

“Thank you so much, Broom,” said Mollie, pleased. “Now you can have a rest. You’ve done well.”

The broom looked at Mollie and then at Benny, and went on whistling its queer little tune. It didn’t seem to want a rest. It swished itself over towards Mollie’s doll’s pram, and swept it right over on to its side. The dolls fell out, and all the blankets and rugs fell out too. The broom swept the whole lot over to the pile of dust.

Mollie gave a scream. “Oh! You wicked broom! You’ve knocked my pram over! Stop sweeping away my poor dolls!”

But the dolls were now on the top of thedust-pile!

Then the broom scurried over to where Benny had put his toy fort and soldiers. Crash! Over went the fort, and down went all the soldiers—and off they were swept to the dust heap.

It was Benny’s turn to be angry then—but the broom didn’t seem to care at all. It just went on whistling and sweeping, its queer little head nodding and smiling all the time.

It went to the dustbin. It swept hard against it, and over it went. The lid went rolling across the yard with a clatter. Everything fell out of the dustbin at once!

Then the broom had a wonderful time! It swept everything up—ashes, tins, broken bottles, bits of cabbage, old tea-leaves—and what a fine pile it made! Then it swept up the dustbin too, rushed across to the lid and swept that up as well.

After that the broom went quite mad. It hopped to the kitchen door and swept up the mat there. It went inside the kitchen and swept all the saucepans and kettles off the stove. They made a tremendous clatter as they rolled across the yard to the dust-heap, with the broom sweeping madly behind them, whistling its silly little song all the time!

Then it swept the chairs out of the kitchen too, and the cat’s basket as well—with the cat inside! Puss was so terrified that she didn’t jump out till the basket was falling down the step. The broom tried its best to sweep her up, but the cat fled away over the fence.

“Oh, stop, stop, you wicked broom!” yelled Benny. But it was no good—the broom didn’t stop. It just went on and on sweeping things out of the kitchen.

When it tried to sweep all the things off the dresser, Mollie was frightened. Whatever would Mother say if she came home to find half her cups and saucers and plates broken?

“Benny! You must stop the broom!” cried the little girl in dismay.

Benny rushed over to the broom. Mollie followed. Benny tried to catch hold of the handle, but the broom dodged cleverly. Benny tried again. The broom swung itself round and rapped Benny hard on the knuckles.

“Oooh!” yelled Benny. “You horrid thing! Wait till I catch you!”

But that’s just what Benny couldn’t do! The broom wasn’t going to be caught just as it was having such a marvellous time. No, no! It was too much to ask.

So it dodged and twisted and got in some more little raps on Benny’s hands and legs. Benny was so angry that he rushed round and round and round after the broom and got so giddy that he couldn’t see where he was going.

He bumped right into Mollie and they both fell over, bump! The broom gave them each a good whack—and then, my goodness me, it began to sweep them up!

Over and over went the two children, rolling towards the dust-heap. The broom was so strong that they couldn’t even get up! They yelled and howled;, but the broom took no notice. It wanted to sweep, and sweep it did!

Just as Benny and Mollie rolled to the dust-heap their mother came in at the gate. At once the broom

became still and quiet, and leaned itself against the fence. Its funny little head disappeared. It was a broom as good as gold.

“Benny! Mollie! What in the world do you think you are doing?” cried their mother. “Get up at once. And goodness me—why have you taken all the mats and chairs and saucepans out here? Did you mean to throw them away? You bad, naughty children, what a mess the yard is in!”

Benny and Mollie picked themselves up, dusty and dirty, their faces tear-stained and their hair untidy. They were both crying.

“Mother! It wasn’t our fault. It was that horrid broom!” wept Mollie. “It’s grown a little head—and it began to sweep everything up, even us! We couldn’t stop it.”

Mother looked round at the broom. It had no head now. It was a good, quiet, well-behaved broom, leaning against the fence. Mother was very angry.

“I don’t know how you expect me to believe fairytales about my broom growing a head and sweeping things out of my kitchen! It’s never behaved like that with
me\
You are disgraceful children. Go straight indoors and up to bed!”

Mother went indoors with her basket. The children followed her, crying. Just as they were going into the kitchen, a voice called them. They turned, and saw the old woman who had rubbed the spell on the broom.

“That broom will always be ready to sweep you up if you don’t behave yourselves!” she called. “Just you be careful now!”

So they are being very careful—and all I hope is that I’m there if they begin to be bad again, because I
would
love to see that broom going mad, and sweeping up Mollie and Benny, wouldn’t you?

The Old Red Cushion

EILEEN’s mother had been ill, but she was much better now. She was allowed to leave her room and go and sit downstairs in an armchair.

Eileen was pleased. It was lovely to see Mother down again, even if she did look rather pale and thin. The little girl fussed round her mother anxiously.

“Mother, which footstool do you want—or would you rather put your feet high up on a chair? Which pillow will you have? Or would you rather have a cushion?”

“I’ll have that big cushion,” said Mother. Eileen fetched it and tried to pack it gently behind her mother’s back.

“It’s rather a hard cushion,” she said. “You want a down cushion, Mother—they’re so very, very soft. Like the one Granny has. It’s a pity Granny lives so far away or I could go and fetch it for you. I’m sure she would lend it to you.”

“Oh, this one will do all right,” said Mother, but Eileen could see that it wasn’t very comfortable.

“Perhaps Daddy could buy you a nice soft cushion,

just for your back, Mother,” she said. But her mother shook her head.

“No, dear—and don’t ask him, whatever you do. He has had such a lot of expense with me ill for so long. He can’t afford a luxury like a new down cushion! I can easily make do with this one.”

Eileen put a rug over her mother’s knees and put her book beside her. Her mother thought what a kind, loving child she had. She smiled at her and Eileen smiled back.

“I do wish I could buy Mother a really soft cushion,” thought Eileen, as she watched her mother trying to make herself comfortable with the big cushion behind her. “I know her back hurts her. I wonder how much money I’ve got in my money-box. I’ll go and see.”

She had two shillings, a sixpence, and three pennies, but that was all. Two and ninepence. Would that buy a cushion of any sort? Eileen felt certain that it wouldn’t.

Still, she went to the little village shop to find out. Mrs. Bryan, the shop-woman, shook her head. “No, my dear,” she said, “I’ve no cushions at that price. You’ll never get a down cushion for so little. They cost a great deal of money. The cheapest cushion I’ve got is ten shillings—and that’s not a soft one, either!”

Eileen went out of the shop sadly. It wasn’t any good at all trying to get a nice new soft cushion. She went down the little winding street and came to the village sweet shop. “I’ll buy a few peppermint drops and take them to

old Mrs. Johns,” she thought suddenly. “I always used to go and see her each week, but I haven’t been once since I’ve been looking after Mother. She does so love peppermint drops. I’ll spend tuppence on them.”

She bought the peppermint drops and set off to the tiny two-roomed cottage in which old Mrs. Johns lived all by herself. She was a very poor old woman, but she managed to keep her cottage spick and span, and always had a vase of flowers on her table.

Eileen knocked at the door. “Come in!” cried Mrs. Johns’ rather quavery voice. Eileen pushed open the door and went in. There was old Mrs. Johns, sitting knitting in her rocking-chair, rocking herself to and fro all the time.

“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Eileen!” said the old lady. “That means your mother’s a bit better, I know! Ah, I’ve wished I could send her something whilst she’s been ill—but I haven’t had a penny to spare, not one!”

Eileen knew how poor Mrs. Johns was. Once, when she broke her teapot, she had to make her tea in a jug for three weeks, because she hadn’t enough money to buy a new one. In the end Eileen gave her a little pot from her biggest doll’s tea-set and Mrs. Johns said it made the best tea she had ever had.

“I’ve brought you some peppermints,” said Eileen and put them in the old lady’s lap.

“That’s kind of you,” said Mrs. Johns and opened the bag with trembling hands. “My, what nice ones! And how’s your mother now? You tell me all about it.”

Eileen told her. She told her about the cushion, too.

“I’ve been trying to buy one for her, to put behind her poor back,” she said. “But I’ve only got two and nine-pence—no, two and sevenpence now—so I can’t. Daddy can’t buy one either, because there are so many bills to pay since Mother’s been ill.”

“Ah, it’s a hard world!” said Mrs. Johns. “Do you know I’ve got to move out of here, Miss Eileen? Yes, I have! My landlord’s going to raise the rent, and I can’t pay any more. So out I shall have to get!”

“Oh, Mrs. Johns—but you love this little cottage so much!” said Eileen. “Wherever will you go?”

“I’ll have to go to my niece, Sarah,” said Mrs. Johns gloomily. Eileen knew how she would hate that. Sarah was impatient and bad-tempered and would make life miserable for the old lady.

“Well, there now, don’t let’s think of such miseries!” said Mrs. Johns, beginning to knit again. “Let’s each have a peppermint drop and talk of nicer things!” As they talked, Mrs. Johns was thinking of what Eileen had said about the cushion. Her eyes went to the old sofa on which the little girl was sitting. There was an old red cushion there, very worn and shabby. But it was made of down!

BOOK: Anytime Tales
12.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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