hopped into his inside pocket. He plucked them out by the scruffs of their necks and dropped them back in their drawer, but they scampered out again and clung to his ankles as he walkedback to the door. With this, he gave up.
‘All right then,’ he said, ‘you can come out to the garden. But always remember – you have to behave! You have to be good!’ The two rats grinned as he removed them from his legs and lifted them into his pockets.
When he clumped down the wooden stairs he found Mrs Knuttmegg waiting there, just outside the kitchen door. To his surprise, she didn’t sneer at him or make the usual sarcastic remarks; in fact she looked surprisingly ill at ease. Seeing her there reminded him of something.
‘That horrible screaming in the middle of the night,’ Jasper said, ‘what was that all about? Was that you? It woke me out of a sound sleep.’ Instead of making some smart remark as he expected, Mrs Knuttmegg just stared at him with wide round eyes. She was clearly very frightened.
‘So you heard it too,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me, what exactly did it say? I thought it was“Cats! Cats” and lots of screaming, but Missus thought it was “Bats! Bats!”’
‘Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she?’ Jasper replied. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t make out any words. But what do you mean, “it”? Who was that screaming, if it wasn’t you or Mrs Haverford-Snuffley?’
‘It was the ghost,’ Mrs Knuttmegg said. ‘Didn’t you know that there’s a ghost in this house?’
‘Don’t be so silly! There’s no such a thing as a ghost,’ Jasper said.
‘Well, if there isn’t, who was that screaming last night? It wasn’t me and it wasn’t the missus.’
‘It certainly wasn’t me either, although it seems to be quite the thing to blame me for everything that goes wrong around here,’ Jasper snapped, as he flounced out to the garden to begin his day’s work.
He spent the morning weeding flower beds. There was no gardening work he really liked but he particularly hated weeding. It was hardlabour, and because he didn’t know anything at all it was easy to get it wrong, and rip up the flowers instead of the weeds. He started on a long, curved flower bed and by mid-morning he had worked his way round to the front of the house, where he discovered Mrs Haverford-Snuffley asleep in the sun in a deckchair. A crumpled copy of the Woodford Trumpet lay on the ground beside her, where it had fallen from her hands. Being very careful not to wake her up, Jasper tiptoed over until he was standing right beside her.
The small bat hanging from the feather was asleep too. Ugh, how Jasper hated it! It made him mad to think of a nasty, ugly little creature like that being so pampered and spoiled. He wished he could play a trick on it. Maybe if he was very careful he could reach in and open the ribbons of its bonnet. Then its hat would fall off and it might get into trouble for being careless. But when he looked at it closely the ribbon was tightly knotted and Jasper knewthat his fingers would never be nimble enough to undo it without his being noticed.
And then he had another, even meaner idea. He pressed his middle finger firmly behind his thumb, turning his right hand into a kind of catapult. He would flick the bat off the end of the feather and into the middle of next week! Or at least into the middle of the lawn, he thought, sniggering to himself and carefully taking aim.
But at that very moment, he got a sudden and terrible shock. One of the rats – he would never know which one – bit him on his tummy with its pointed teeth, and a sharp, painful nip it was.
‘Oh that’s agony. AGONY!’
It happened just as he was about to attack Nelly and it made him stumble and lose his footing. Instead of flicking away the bat, he flicked Mrs Haverford-Snuffley hard on the nose just as he tumbled and fell on top of her. The deckchair collapsed and they both endedup in a tangled heap on the ground, all mixed
‘All right then,’ he said, ‘you can come out to the garden. But always remember – you have to behave! You have to be good!’ The two rats grinned as he removed them from his legs and lifted them into his pockets.
When he clumped down the wooden stairs he found Mrs Knuttmegg waiting there, just outside the kitchen door. To his surprise, she didn’t sneer at him or make the usual sarcastic remarks; in fact she looked surprisingly ill at ease. Seeing her there reminded him of something.
‘That horrible screaming in the middle of the night,’ Jasper said, ‘what was that all about? Was that you? It woke me out of a sound sleep.’ Instead of making some smart remark as he expected, Mrs Knuttmegg just stared at him with wide round eyes. She was clearly very frightened.
‘So you heard it too,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me, what exactly did it say? I thought it was“Cats! Cats” and lots of screaming, but Missus thought it was “Bats! Bats!”’
‘Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she?’ Jasper replied. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t make out any words. But what do you mean, “it”? Who was that screaming, if it wasn’t you or Mrs Haverford-Snuffley?’
‘It was the ghost,’ Mrs Knuttmegg said. ‘Didn’t you know that there’s a ghost in this house?’
‘Don’t be so silly! There’s no such a thing as a ghost,’ Jasper said.
‘Well, if there isn’t, who was that screaming last night? It wasn’t me and it wasn’t the missus.’
‘It certainly wasn’t me either, although it seems to be quite the thing to blame me for everything that goes wrong around here,’ Jasper snapped, as he flounced out to the garden to begin his day’s work.
He spent the morning weeding flower beds. There was no gardening work he really liked but he particularly hated weeding. It was hardlabour, and because he didn’t know anything at all it was easy to get it wrong, and rip up the flowers instead of the weeds. He started on a long, curved flower bed and by mid-morning he had worked his way round to the front of the house, where he discovered Mrs Haverford-Snuffley asleep in the sun in a deckchair. A crumpled copy of the Woodford Trumpet lay on the ground beside her, where it had fallen from her hands. Being very careful not to wake her up, Jasper tiptoed over until he was standing right beside her.
The small bat hanging from the feather was asleep too. Ugh, how Jasper hated it! It made him mad to think of a nasty, ugly little creature like that being so pampered and spoiled. He wished he could play a trick on it. Maybe if he was very careful he could reach in and open the ribbons of its bonnet. Then its hat would fall off and it might get into trouble for being careless. But when he looked at it closely the ribbon was tightly knotted and Jasper knewthat his fingers would never be nimble enough to undo it without his being noticed.
And then he had another, even meaner idea. He pressed his middle finger firmly behind his thumb, turning his right hand into a kind of catapult. He would flick the bat off the end of the feather and into the middle of next week! Or at least into the middle of the lawn, he thought, sniggering to himself and carefully taking aim.
But at that very moment, he got a sudden and terrible shock. One of the rats – he would never know which one – bit him on his tummy with its pointed teeth, and a sharp, painful nip it was.
‘Oh that’s agony. AGONY!’
It happened just as he was about to attack Nelly and it made him stumble and lose his footing. Instead of flicking away the bat, he flicked Mrs Haverford-Snuffley hard on the nose just as he tumbled and fell on top of her. The deckchair collapsed and they both endedup in a tangled heap on the ground, all mixed
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