Comet in Moominland (17 page)

'Listen, take off your dress for a minute will you?' said the Snork.

'What?' said the Hemulen. 'Take off my
dress
?'

'Yes,' they all shouted. 'We want to make a balloon out of it.'

The Hemulen went red with anger. 'Here I sit in distress,' he said, 'after a terrible accident caused only by your rotten old catastrophe. And now you want to take my dress!'

'Listen,' said the Snork. 'We'll save your stamp album if you'll only do what we say. But hurry up! This is only the beginning of the tornado - like a gale warning. When the real thing comes it's safest to be up in the air.'

'I don't care a straw about your tornado
or
your comet,' shouted the Hemulen who had worked himself up into a real rage. 'When it concerns my stamps...'

But he got no farther, for they all threw themselves on top of him and in a twinkling they had pulled his dress over his head. It was a very large dress with a frill round the bottom, which he had inherited from his aunt. They only had to tie up the neck and the armholes and it made a perfect balloon.

The Hemulen cursed and muttered fiercely, but nobody paid any attention to him, because away on the horizon they could see the real tornado approaching. It looked like a great spiral-shaped cloud, and it came whirling over the forest with a wild howling roar, rooting up the trees and throwing them down like match-sticks.

'Hold on with all your might,' shouted Moomintroll, and they all caught hold of the frill on the Hemulen's dress, and knotted their tails together for safety's sake. The tornado had arrived!

For quite a long time they could neither hear nor see. But the Hemulen's dress lifted them up, higher and higher, and carried them over the moor, over mountain tops and dried up lakes, on and on, and twilight came, and then darkness, before the tornado lost its breath and died. At last they came to rest and found the balloon had hitched itself up in a tall plum tree.

'Well, strike me pink!' exclaimed Moomintroll. 'Are you all still here?'

'I'm here,' said the Hemulen, 'and I wish to point out now, before anything else happens, that I will not join in these childish games in future. If you
will
fool about like this you must do it without me.'

This time they all felt too exhausted to start explaining everything to the Hemulen again.

'I'm still here, and I've got my looking-glass too,' said the Snork maiden.

'And I've got my hat,' said Snufkin, 'and the mouth-organ.'

'But my exercise book might be
anywhere,'
said the Snork miserably, 'and I had written down everything that has to be done when a comet comes.
Now
what are we going to do?'

'Well never mind that now,' said Moomintroll. 'Where's Sniff?'

'Here,' piped a feeble voice, 'if it really
is
me and not some poor bit of wreckage left over by the storm.'

'It's you all right,' said the Hemulen. 'I'd know your squeak anywhere. And perhaps I could have my dress back now.'

'Why, certainly,' said Moomintroll. 'And thank you for the loan of it.'

The Hemulen grumbled and puffed as he pulled his dress over his head, but luckily he couldn't see in the dark how the tornado had treated it!

They spent the night in the plum tree, very close together, and they were so tired after their journey that they didn't wake up till twelve o'clock the next day.

CHAPTER 11

Which is about a coffee-party, the flight to the cave and the arrival of the comet.

T
HE
seventh of October was windless and very hot. Moomintroll woke up and gave a huge yawn. Then he shut his mouth with a snap and his eyes opened very wide.

'Do you realize what today is?' he asked.

'The comet!' whispered Sniff.

My goodness, it was big! The red had turned to yellowish-white now, and round it was a circle of dancing flames. The wood seemed to be waiting, breathless... The ants were in their ant hills, the birds in their nests, and every one of the little creeping things of the forest, who had not already left the place, had found somewhere to hide.

'What's the time?' asked Moomintroll.

'Ten past twelve,' answered the Snork.

Nobody said another word. They clambered down the tree and set off as fast as they could towards home.

Only the Hemulen went on making small, angry noises to himself, about the stamps and the ruined dress in turns.

'Be quiet now,' said the Snork.' We have more important things to think about.'

'Do you think the comet will reach Moomin Valley before us?' whispered the Snork maiden.

'We'll get there in time,' said Moomintroll. But he looked worried.

The swarm of grass-hoppers had certainly not been this way, because the wood was green again, and the slope in front of them was white with flowers.

'Would you like a flower to put behind your ear?' asked Moomintroll.

'Good gracious, no!' answered the Snork maiden. 'I'm much too worried to think about things like that.'

Meanwhile Sniff had gone ahead, and suddenly they heard him give a shout of excitement.

'Some new fuss I suppose,' said the Hemulen.

'Hi! Hullo Hurry up!' shrieked Sniff. 'Run! Gome on!' And he put his paws in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle.

They set off at a run through the trees, Moomintroll in

front. As he ran he sniffed, and a delicious smell of baking bread floated up to him. The trees thinned out - and Moomintroll stopped suddenly with a shout of surprise and happiness.

There below him lay the Valley of the Moomins. And in the middle amongst the plum and poplar trees, stood a blue Moominhouse, as blue and peaceful and wonderful as when

he had left it. And inside his mother was peacefully baking bread and cakes.

'Now
everything is going to be all right,' said Moomintroll happily, and he was so overcome that he had to sit down.

'There's the bridge!' said the Snork maiden, 'and there's the poplar tree you talked about that is so good to climb. What a beautiful house it is!'

Moominmamma was in the kitchen decorating a big cake with pale yellow lemon peel and slices of crystalized pear. The words 'To my darling Moomintroll' were written round it in chocolate, and on the top there was a glittering star of spun sugar.

Moominmamma was whistling softly to herself, and now and then she looked out of the window.

Moominpappa was wandering nervously from room to room getting thoroughly in the way. 'They should be here soon,' he said, 'it's half-past one.'

'They'll be here all right,' said Moominmamma confidently. 'Wait a moment while I take away the cake! Sniff shall have the basin to lick out - he always has it.'

'If he comes,' said Moominpappa, and sighed deeply.

At that moment the Muskrat came and sat down in a corner.

'Well, what about the comet?' asked Moominmamma.

'It's coming nearer,' said the Muskrat. 'This is a time for weeping and wailing, sure enough. But of course that sort of thing doesn't affect a philosopher like me.'

'Well, I hope you'll take good care of your whiskers when the time comes,' said Moominmamma kindly. 'It would be a pity to get them singed. Will you have a ginger-nut?'

'Well, thank you - perhaps a small one,' said the Musk-rat. When he had eaten eight ginger-nuts he said: 'Young Moomintroll seems to be coming down the hill, accompanied by the strangest looking party. I don't know if that interests you at all.'

'Moomintroll?'
screamed Moominmamma. 'Why didn't you say so before
V
And she rushed out, closely followed by Moominpappa.

There they were, running across the bridge! First Moomintroll and Sniff, then Snufkin, then the Snorks, and last of all the Hemulen, who had not got over his bad temper.

They all fell into each other's arms and Moominmamma burst out: 'My darling Moomin-child, I thought I should never see you again!'

'You should have seen me fighting with the poisonous bush!' said Moomintroll. 'Snip! Off came one arm! Snap! Off came another, and in the end there was only a stump left!'

'Well!' said Moominmamma. 'And who is this little girl?'

'It's the Snork maiden,' said Moomintroll, bringing her forward. 'She was the one I rescued from the poisonous bush. And this is Snufkin who is one of the world's wanderers. This is the Hemulen; the expert philatterist!'

'Oh!' said Moominpappa, 'really?' And then it dawned on him. 'Why, yes,' he said, 'I remember collecting stamps in my youth. A very interesting hobby.'

'It isn't my hobby - it's my work,' retorted the Hemulen rudely. (He had slept badly.)

'In that case,' said Moominpappa, 'perhaps you could give me your opinion of a stamp album that was blown here yesterday evening by the tornado.'

'Stamp album, did you say?' exclaimed the Hemulen, 'that blew here?'

'Why, yes,' put in Moominmamma. 'I made the dough for the bread last night, and this morning it was full of little bits of sticky paper.'

'Sticky paper!' screeched the Hemulen. 'Those must be my rarest of rare specimens. Are they still there? Where are they? Surely in the name of all Hemulens you haven't thrown them away?'

'They're all hanging up to dry,' said Moominmamma, pointing to a washing line under the plum trees.

The Hemulen rushed off.