Jack.’
‘You’re always ready to talk about Jack, aren’t you?’ said Bill, amused. ‘Well, I must say that Jack has got something I’d dearly like to have myself.’
‘What’s that? Kiki?’ asked Lucy-Ann.
‘No—a very nice little sister,’ said Bill. ‘It’s good to see a brother and sister so fond of one another.’
‘Well, our mother and father died when we were very young,’ said Lucy-Ann, ‘so we only had each other. But now we’ve got you and Aunt Allie, and we’ve got Philip and Dinah as well. We’re lucky!’
‘I’m lucky too,’ said Bill. ‘A nice ready-made family for me! Hark at the owls hooting round. What a collection of hoots!’
‘That was the little-owl,’ said Lucy-Ann, who had been well trained in bird calls by Jack. ‘That “tvit-tvit-tvit” noise. And that lovely long quavering hoot is the tawny-owl.’
‘And what in the world is that?’ said Bill, suddenly startled by a loud screech near his head. Lucy-Ann laughed.
‘The screech-owl—the old barn-owl!’ she said. ‘He does that to frighten the mice and the rats.’
‘Well, he scared me too,’ said Bill. ‘Ah—is that the farm-house looming up? It is. You come in with me, Lucy-Ann, and don’t be surprised at my conversation with Mrs. Ellis!’
They knocked at the door and went into the big, cosy kitchen. Although it was a warm night there was a fire in the chimney corner, and old Aunt Naomi sat there, knitting, huddled up in a shawl.
Mrs. Ellis hurried to meet them. ‘Well, it’s good to see you! And how are you getting on? Settled in nicely? That’s right. Now, what can I do for you? Sit you down, do!’
They sat down. Lucy-Ann found a rocking-chair and began to rock to and fro. A big tabby came and jumped into her lap, settled down and went to sleep. Lucy-Ann felt quite honoured.
Mrs. Ellis brought her a piece of cake, and she nibbled at it and listened lazily to Bill. He gave Mrs. Ellis all the news first. Then he went on to talk about Quarry Cottage.
‘It’s a lovely, peaceful spot,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t think strangers ever come along here, do they, Mrs. Ellis? Except people like ourselves who want to stay for a bit.’
‘Now, it’s funny you should say that,’ said Mrs. Ellis, ‘because two strangers came to our farm-house this very afternoon—in a lovely black car. Rather like yours, Mr. Cunningham.’
‘I suppose they lost their way,’ said Bill. Although he spoke in his ordinary voice Lucy-Ann knew that he had pricked up his ears at once.
‘No, they hadn’t lost their way,’ said Mrs. Ellis. ‘They’d been hunting round for a nice farm-house to stay in for a few days—the man’s wife has been ill, and simply longed to be in a quiet farm-house, with good food. Somebody ‘told him of our farm, and they came to inquire.’
‘I see,’ said Bill. ‘And—er—did you say you would take them, Mrs. Ellis?’
‘I did,’ said Mrs. Ellis, ‘though my husband scolded me for it. He says my kind heart runs away with me! They’re coming tomorrow. They said their name was Jones—but it’s my belief they’re foreigners!’
‘Foreigners,’ said Bill, slowly. ‘Yes—I had an idea you were going to say that!’
Chapter 9
AN AFTERNOON OUT
Lucy-Ann stopped rocking the chair, and her heart sank into her shoes. Foreigners! Did that mean they were from Tauri-Hessia, or whatever the country was—and had they tracked down Gussy? Oh dear—surely, surely another adventure wasn’t beginning! This had seemed as if it would be such a nice peaceful holiday.
‘Blow!’ whispered Lucy-Ann to the cat on her knee. ‘Blow Gussy! Blow his uncle!’
Bill asked a few more cautious questions, but Mrs. Ellis had nothing else to tell him of any interest. He got up, took the milk she had brought him from the dairy, and paid her. He thanked her, said good night, and out he and Lucy-Ann went, into the starry night.
‘I fear—I very much fear—that somebody is on
‘You’re always ready to talk about Jack, aren’t you?’ said Bill, amused. ‘Well, I must say that Jack has got something I’d dearly like to have myself.’
‘What’s that? Kiki?’ asked Lucy-Ann.
‘No—a very nice little sister,’ said Bill. ‘It’s good to see a brother and sister so fond of one another.’
‘Well, our mother and father died when we were very young,’ said Lucy-Ann, ‘so we only had each other. But now we’ve got you and Aunt Allie, and we’ve got Philip and Dinah as well. We’re lucky!’
‘I’m lucky too,’ said Bill. ‘A nice ready-made family for me! Hark at the owls hooting round. What a collection of hoots!’
‘That was the little-owl,’ said Lucy-Ann, who had been well trained in bird calls by Jack. ‘That “tvit-tvit-tvit” noise. And that lovely long quavering hoot is the tawny-owl.’
‘And what in the world is that?’ said Bill, suddenly startled by a loud screech near his head. Lucy-Ann laughed.
‘The screech-owl—the old barn-owl!’ she said. ‘He does that to frighten the mice and the rats.’
‘Well, he scared me too,’ said Bill. ‘Ah—is that the farm-house looming up? It is. You come in with me, Lucy-Ann, and don’t be surprised at my conversation with Mrs. Ellis!’
They knocked at the door and went into the big, cosy kitchen. Although it was a warm night there was a fire in the chimney corner, and old Aunt Naomi sat there, knitting, huddled up in a shawl.
Mrs. Ellis hurried to meet them. ‘Well, it’s good to see you! And how are you getting on? Settled in nicely? That’s right. Now, what can I do for you? Sit you down, do!’
They sat down. Lucy-Ann found a rocking-chair and began to rock to and fro. A big tabby came and jumped into her lap, settled down and went to sleep. Lucy-Ann felt quite honoured.
Mrs. Ellis brought her a piece of cake, and she nibbled at it and listened lazily to Bill. He gave Mrs. Ellis all the news first. Then he went on to talk about Quarry Cottage.
‘It’s a lovely, peaceful spot,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t think strangers ever come along here, do they, Mrs. Ellis? Except people like ourselves who want to stay for a bit.’
‘Now, it’s funny you should say that,’ said Mrs. Ellis, ‘because two strangers came to our farm-house this very afternoon—in a lovely black car. Rather like yours, Mr. Cunningham.’
‘I suppose they lost their way,’ said Bill. Although he spoke in his ordinary voice Lucy-Ann knew that he had pricked up his ears at once.
‘No, they hadn’t lost their way,’ said Mrs. Ellis. ‘They’d been hunting round for a nice farm-house to stay in for a few days—the man’s wife has been ill, and simply longed to be in a quiet farm-house, with good food. Somebody ‘told him of our farm, and they came to inquire.’
‘I see,’ said Bill. ‘And—er—did you say you would take them, Mrs. Ellis?’
‘I did,’ said Mrs. Ellis, ‘though my husband scolded me for it. He says my kind heart runs away with me! They’re coming tomorrow. They said their name was Jones—but it’s my belief they’re foreigners!’
‘Foreigners,’ said Bill, slowly. ‘Yes—I had an idea you were going to say that!’
Chapter 9
AN AFTERNOON OUT
Lucy-Ann stopped rocking the chair, and her heart sank into her shoes. Foreigners! Did that mean they were from Tauri-Hessia, or whatever the country was—and had they tracked down Gussy? Oh dear—surely, surely another adventure wasn’t beginning! This had seemed as if it would be such a nice peaceful holiday.
‘Blow!’ whispered Lucy-Ann to the cat on her knee. ‘Blow Gussy! Blow his uncle!’
Bill asked a few more cautious questions, but Mrs. Ellis had nothing else to tell him of any interest. He got up, took the milk she had brought him from the dairy, and paid her. He thanked her, said good night, and out he and Lucy-Ann went, into the starry night.
‘I fear—I very much fear—that somebody is on
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