Enid Blyton by The Folk of the Faraway Tree

singing," said J o.
    "You ’ re lucky," said Tommy. "Nobody will give me any if I don ’ t sing. It ’ s a good thing I ’ ve got a nice voice!"
    He went off singing like a blackbird again. The others watched him, and then saw someone else coming along crying bitterly. A bigger boy was slapping him hard. Behind the two came a thin cat, its fur wet and draggled.
    "Hi! Stop hitting that boy!" cried J o, who didn ’ t like to see a smaller boy being hit by a bigger one. "Hit someone your own size!"
    "Mind your own business," said the big boy. " J ohnny Thin deserves all he gets. You don ’ t know what a bad boy he is!"
    " J ohnny Thin! Oh, isn ’ t he the boy who put the cat down the well?" cried Fanny. "Then you must be Johnny Stout, who pulled her out!"
    "Yes—and there ’ s the cat, poor thing," said Johnny Stout. " No w don ’ t you think that bad boy deserves to be slapped hard?"
    "Oh yes ,” said Bessie. "He does. Poor cat. I ’ ll dry it a bit."
    She got out her hanky and tried to dry the cat. But it was too wet.
    "Don ’ t troub l e," said J ohnny Stout, giving Johnny Thin a last hard slap that sent him off howling loudly. "I ’ ll take the cat to Polly Flinders. She ’ s always got a f ire, and warms her pretty little toes by it!"
    He picked up the cat and went into a nearby cottage. The children went and peeped in at the open door. They saw a little girl in the room inside, sitting close to a roaring fire, her toes wriggling in the heat.
    Johnny Stout gave the cat to the little girl. “Here you are, Polly," he said. "Dry her a bit, will you? She got put down the well again. But I ’ ve given J ohnny Thin a good slapping, so maybe he ’ l l not do it anymore ."
    Polly Flinders took the cat on her lap, making her pretty frock all wet. J ohnny Stout was just going out of the door when somebody else came in. It was Polly Flinders ’ mother. When she saw Polly sitting among the cinders, warming her toes and nursing the wet cat, she gave a cry of rage.
    "You naughty little girl! How many times have I told you not to sit so close to the fire? What ’ s the good of dressing you up in nice clothes if you make them so dirty? I shall whip you !"
    The children, Moon-Face and Watzisname felt rather scared of the cross mother. Johnny Stout ran away and the others thought it would be better to go too.
    They went down the other side of the hill.
    "Ha l lo!—who are these two coming up the hill?" said Moon-Face.
    " J ack and Jill , of course!" said Bessie. And so they were, carrying a pail between them. They filled it at the well that stood at the top of the hill, and then began to go carefully down the hill.
    "Oh—I do so hope they don ’ t fall down," said Fanny, anxiously. "They always do, in the rhyme!"
    Jack and Jill began to quarrel as they went down the hill. "Don ’ t go so fast, Jack !" shouted Jill .
    "You ’ re always so slow!" grumbled Jack . "Do come on !"
    "The pail ’ s so heavy!" cried Jill , and began to lag behind just as they came to a steep bit.
    "They ’ ll fall down— and Jack will break his crown again—hurt his head badl y!" said Bessie. "I ’ m going to stop them !"
    She ran to the two children, who stopped, sur prised. "Don ’ t quarrel, J ack and Jill," begged Bessie. "You know you ’ ll only fall down and hurt yourselves. Jill , let me take the handle of the pail. I can go as fast as Jack likes. Then for once in a way you will get to the bottom of the hill in safety, w ithout falling down ."
    Jill let go the pail handle. Bessie took it. Jack beamed at her. "Thank you," he said. " J ill ’ s always so slow. Come along with me, and I ’ ll give you one of my humbugs. I ’ ve got a whole bag full at home."
    Bessie liked humbugs, with their brown and yellow stripes. "Oh, thank you," she said. "I ’ d like one." She turned to the others. "You go on to Miss Muffet ’ s," she said. "I ’ ll join you later."
    So off went the others, whilst J ack, Jill and Bessie went down the