Sallie and Lallie and Buddy thought England was quite an exciting sort of place! They would have liked to stay much longer at the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, but there were other things they had to see.
When the day came for them to leave Uncle Tom gave Milly-Molly-Mandy a real dollar bill – to use when she came to visit America one day he said.
Milly-Molly-Mandy is keeping it safe in her treasure-box.
20
Milly-Molly-Mandy Goes Sledging
Once upon a time, one cold grey wintry day, Milly-Molly-Mandy and the others were coming home from school.
It was such a cold wintry day that everybody turned up their coat-collars and put their hands in their pockets, and such a grey wintry day that it seemed almost dark already, though it was only four o’clock.
“Oooh! isn’t it a cold grey wintry day!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Perhaps it’s going to snow,” said little-friend-Susan.
“Hope it does,” said Billy Blunt. “I’m going to make a sledge.”
Whereupon Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan said both together: “Ooh! will you give us a ride on it?”
“Haven’t made it yet,” said. Billy Blunt. “But I’ve got an old wooden box I can make it of.”
Then he said goodbye and went in at the side gate by the corn-shop where he lived. And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan ran together along the road to the Moggs’s cottage, where little-friend-Susan lived. And then Milly-Molly-Mandy went on alone to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, where Toby the dog came capering out to welcome her home.
It felt so nice and warm in the kitchen, and it smelled so nice and warm too, that Milly-Molly-Mandy was quite glad to be in.
“Here she comes!” said Grandma, putting the well-filled toast-rack on the table.
“There you are!” said Aunty, breaking open hot scones and buttering them on a plate.
“Just in time, Milly-Molly-Mandy!” said Mother, pouring boiling water into the teapot. “Call the men-folk in to tea, but don’t keep the door open long,”
So Milly-Molly-Mandy called, and Father and Grandpa and Uncle soon came in, rubbing their hands, very pleased to get back into the warm again.
“Ah! Nicer indoors than out,” said Grandpa.
“There’s snow in the air,” said Uncle.
“Shouldn’t wonder if we had a fall before morning,” said Father.
“Billy Blunt’s going to make a sledge, and he might let Susan and me have a ride, if it snows,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. And she wished very much that it would.
That set Father and Uncle talking during tea of the fun they used to have in their young days sledging down Crocker’s Hill.
Milly-Molly-Mandy did wish it would snow soon.
The next day was Saturday and there was no school, which always made it feel different when you woke up in the morning. But all the same Milly-Molly-Mandy thought something about her little bedroom looked different somehow, when she opened her eyes.
“Milly-Molly-Mandy!” called Mother up the stairs, as she did every morning.
“Yoo-oo!” called Milly-Molly-Mandy, to show she was awake.
“Have you looked out of your window yet?” called Mother.
“No, Mother,” called Milly-Molly-Mandy, sitting up in bed. “Why?”
“You look,” said Mother. “And hurry up with your dressing.” And she went downstairs to the kitchen to get the breakfast.
So Milly-Molly-Mandy jumped out of bed and looked.
“Oh!” she said, staring. “Oh-h!”
EVERYTHING OUTSIDE WAS WHITE AS WHITE COULD BE
For everything outside her little low window was white as white could be, except the sky, which was dark, dirty grey and criss-crossed all over with snowflakes flying down.
“Oh-h-h!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy again.
And then she set to work washing and dressing in a great hurry (and wasn’t it cold!) and she rushed downstairs.
She wanted to go out and play at once, almost before she had done breakfast, but Mother said there was plenty of time to clear up all her porridge, for she mustn’t go out until the snow stopped falling.
Milly-Molly-Mandy hoped it would be quick and stop. She wanted to see little-friend-Susan, and to find out if Billy Blunt had begun making his sledge.
But Father said, the deeper the snow the better for sledging. So then Milly-Molly-Mandy didn’t know whether she most wished it to snow or to stop snowing!
“Well,” said Mother, “it looks as if it means to go on snowing for some while yet, so I should wish for that if I were you! Suppose you be Jemima-Jane and help me to make the cakes this morning, as you can’t go out.”
So Milly-Molly-Mandy tied on an apron and became Jemima-Jane. And she washed up the breakfast things and put them away; and fetched whatever Mother wanted for cake-making from the larder and the cupboard, and picked over the sultanas (which was a nice job, as Jemima-Jane was allowed to eat as many sultanas as she had fingers on both hands, but not one more), and she beat the eggs in a basin, and stirred the cake-mixture in the bowl. And after Mother had filled the cake tins Jemima-Jane was allowed to put the scrapings into her own little patty-pan and bake it for her own self in the oven (and that sort of cake always tastes nicer than any other sort, only there’s never enough of it!)
Well, it snowed and it snowed all day. Milly-Molly-Mandy kept running to the windows to look, but it didn’t stop once. When Father and Grandpa and Uncle had to go out (to see after the cows and the pony and the chickens) they came back looking like snowmen.
“Is It good for sledging yet, Father?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Getting better every minute, Milly-Molly-Mandy, that’s certain,” answered Father, stamping snow off his boots on the door-mat.
“I wonder what Susan thinks of it, and if Billy has nearly made his sledge yet,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
But it didn’t stop snowing before dark, so she couldn’t find out that day.
The next day, Sunday, the snow had stopped falling, and it looked beautiful, spread out all over everything. Father and Mother and Grandpa and Uncle and Aunty and Milly-Molly-Mandy put on their Wellington boots, or goloshes (Milly-Molly-Mandy had boots), and walked to Church. (Grandma didn’t like walking in the snow, so she stayed at home to look after the fire and put the potatoes on.)
Billy Blunt was there with his father and mother, so afterwards in the lane Milly-Molly-Mandy asked him, “Have you made your sledge yet?”
And Billy Blunt said, “ ’Tisn’t finished. Dad’s going to help me with it this afternoon. I’ll be trying it out before school to-morrow, probably.”
Milly-Molly-Mandy was sorry it wasn’t done yet. But anyhow she and little-friend-Susan had a grand time all that afternoon, making a snowman in the Moggs’s front garden.
On Monday Milly-Molly-Mandy was in a great hurry to finish her breakfast and be off very early to school.
She didn’t have long to wait for little-friend-Susan either, and together they trudged along through the snow. It was quite hard going, for sometimes it was almost over the tops of their boots. (But they didn’t always keep to the road!)
When they came to the village there, just outside the corn-shop, was Billy Blunt’s new sledge. And while they were looking at it Billy Blunt came out at the side gate.
“Hullo,” he said. “Thought you weren’t coming.”
“Hullo, Billy. Isn’t that a beauty! Have you been on it yet? Can we have a ride?”
“You’ll have to hurry, then,” said Billy Blunt, picking up the string. “I’ve been up on the hill by Crocker’s Farm, past the crossroads.”
“I know,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “near where that little girl Bunchy and her grandmother live. Can we go there now?”
“Hurry up, then,” said Billy Blunt.
So they all hurried up, through the village, past the crossroads and the school, along the road to Crocker’s Hill, shuffling through the snow, dragging the sledg
e behind them.
“Isn’t it deep here!” panted Milly-Molly-Mandy. “This is the way Bunchy comes to school every day. I wonder how she’ll manage today. She isn’t very big.”
“We’ve come uphill a long way,” panted little-friend-Susan. “Can’t we sit on the sledge and go down now?”
“Oh, let’s get to the top of the hill first,” panted Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“There’s a steep bit there. You get a good run,” said Billy Blunt. “I’ve done it six times. I went up before breakfast.”
“I wish I’d come too!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Sledge only holds one,” said Billy Blunt.
“Oh!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Oh!” said little-friend-Susan.
They hadn’t thought of that.
“Which of us has first go?” said little-friend-Susan.
“Don’t suppose there’ll be time for more than one of you, anyhow,” said Billy Blunt. “We’ve got to get back.”
“You have first go,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy to little-friend-Susan.
“No, you have first go,” said little-friend-Susan to Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Better hurry,” said Billy Blunt. “You’ll be late for school.”
They struggled on up the last steep bit of the hill.
And there were the little girl Bunchy and her grandmother, hand-in-hand, struggling up it through the snow from the other side. The little cottage where they lived could be seen down below, with their two sets of footprints leading up from it.
“Hullo, Bunchy,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.
“Oh! Hullo, Milly-Molly-Mandy,” said Bunchy.
And Bunchy and her grandmother both looked very pleased to see them. all. Grandmother had just been thinking she would have to take Bunchy all the way to school today.
But Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “I’ll take care of her.” And she took hold of Bunchy’s little cold hand with her warm one (it was very warm indeed with pulling the sledge up the hill). “You go down in the sledge, Susan, and I’ll look after Bunchy.”
No,” said little-friend-Susan. “You wanted it just as much.”
“Sit her on it,” said Billy Blunt, pointing to Bunchy. “We can run her to school in no time. Come on.”
So Bunchy had the ride, with Billy Blunt to guide the sledge and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan to keep her safe on it. And Grandmother stood and watched them all go shouting down the steep bit. And then, as Bunchy was quite light and the road was a bit downhill most of the way, they pulled her along easily, right up to the school gate, in good time for school.
And Bunchy did enjoy her ride. She thought it was the excitingest thing that had ever happened!
And then after afternoon school (Bunchy had her dinner at school because it was too far for her to go home for it) Billy Blunt told her to get on his sledge again. And he and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan pulled her all the way home (except up the steepest bit). And Grandmother was so grateful to them that she gave them each a warm currant bun.
And then Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan took turns riding down the hill on Billy Blunt’s sledge. It went like the wind, so that you had to shriek like anything, and your cap blew off, and you felt you could go on for ever! And then, Whoosh! you landed sprawling in the snow just where the road turned near the bottom.
Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan each got tipped out there. But when Billy Blunt had gone back to the top of the hill with the sledge for his turn he came sailing down and rounded the bend like a bird, and went on and on and was almost at the crossroads when the others caught him up. (But then, he’d had plenty of practice, and nobody had seen him spill out at his first try!)
It seemed a long walk home to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof after all that, and Milly-Molly-Mandy was quite late for tea. But Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty weren’t a bit cross, because they guessed what she had been up to, and of course, you can’t go sledging every day!
In fact, it rained that very night, and next day the snow was nearly gone. So wasn’t it a good thing that Billy Blunt had got his sledge made in time?
About the Author
Joyce Lankester Brisley was born over a hundred years ago, on 6 February 1896. She had two sisters: an elder one, Ethel, and Nina, who was just a year younger than Joyce. The family lived in Bexhill-on-Sea in Sussex, in a house so close to the sea that when there was a very high tide the waves would come right into the garden. Joyce’s father ran a chemist’s shop in the town. Her mother enjoyed drawing and painting, but had to spend most of her time looking after the home and her children.
Joyce and her sisters were all good at art, like their mother, and went to evening classes at Hastings School of Art, taking the train there and back along the coast. By the time they were teenagers, “Eth” (as Ethel was always known in the family) was having her pictures accepted for exhibitions at the Royal Academy in London and was soon selling paintings as a result. Then, through a friend, the girls were invited to meet Miss Brown of the magazine Home Chat. They quickly began to do illustrations for this magazine, so for the first time all three sisters started to earn money for themselves.
This money was soon to become very important for the family. In 1912, when Joyce was sixteen, her parents separated. In her diary (writing in French as if to keep it a secret) she recorded that her father wanted his family to leave the house. They stayed until Joyce and Nina had finished their term at art school, then the three girls moved with their mother to South London, where Eth had found them a tiny flat.
In London, Joyce and Nina enrolled at the Lambeth School of Art in 1912 – an uncle kindly agreed to pay the fees for both girls. They studied there five days a week for two years. In 1913 they moved to a house with a large room that the three girls could use as a studio.
The outbreak of the First World War in 1914 meant that food was scarce. Their mother had to spend a lot of time searching for meat and vegetables she could afford, while the girls worked hard earning money from illustrations for magazines, newspapers and advertisements. Joyce writes in her diary about drawing advertisements for Cherry Blossom boot polish and Mansion floor polish. She also writes about the German bombing raids on London – describing how, in September 1916, the sister had to get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs for safety, still in their nightclothes and bedtime plaits.
Despite the war and constant worries about money, family life continued happily throughout this time. In 1917 Joyce records in her diary that Nina (daringly) wanted to cut her hair short, and Eth longed to do the same, but Joyce felt “I couldn’t – it wouldn’t suit me well at all”. The sisters obviously got along very well together, but nevertheless Joyce wished she had some privacy. She was delighted when, shortly after her twenty-first birthday, she was able to have a room of her own – “My longing, for years and years.”
In 1918 they all moved again, to a house with a larger studio. Joyce went with her mother and sisters to the local Christian Science Church. There they met an artist who worked for The Christian Science Monitor. As a result, both Joyce and Nina began submitting stories and drawings to the paper, and it was on the Children’s Page in October 1925 that the first story about Milly-Molly-Mandy appeared. The idea had come into Joyce’s mind one day when “the sun was shining and I longed to be out in the country instead of sitting indoors all day, earning a living . . .”
Milly-Molly-Mandy was an immediate success and soon began to gain a strong following among readers. Joyce records that:
“. . . boys and girls began writing letters to the paper, to the editors and to Milly-Molly-Mandy herself, wanting to know more about her, asking, Could she come for a holiday by the sea? Could she have a baby sister to take out riding in the pram? (She couldn’t, as she was an ‘only’ child, but little-friend-Susan could, and did.) Some of the letters enclosed foreign stamps for Billy Blunt’s collection (so generous!). One boy wrote all the way from
Australia to tell me that ‘Father’ was shown digging with his wrong foot on the spade (for it seems the left foot is the right foot for digging with!). I wrote back to thank him and promised to alter the drawing before it went into a book – as you may see I did, for it’s nice to get things quite correct.”
Joyce went on writing stories about Milly-Molly-Mandy for the rest of her life, but she wrote about other characters too, in books such as Marigold in Godmother’s House (1934) and Adventures of Purl and Plain (1941). She also illustrated stories by other authors and was specially chosen by her publisher, George Harrap, to draw the pictures for the first edition of Ursula Moray Williams’ Adventures of the Little Wooden Horse (1938).
Joyce always remained close to her sisters. Nina, who became the first and much-loved illustrator of the Chalet School stories by Elinor M. Brent-Dyer, was the only one to marry. Ethel died in 1961, and Nina and Joyce died within a few months of each other, in 1978.
Joyce Lankester Brisley seems to have been rather a shy person and she obviously didn’t like publicity. Once, after two of her pictures had been accepted by the Royal Academy and a journalist wanted to interview her, she telegraphed at once that she “would be out”. Maybe she was a bit like Milly-Molly-Mandy herself – happy to be busily getting on with whatever task or errand she’d set herself for the day, and content with whatever good fortune life might bring her.
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MILLY-
MOLLY-
MANDY
First published in 1925, the stories of Milly-Molly-Mandy and her friends have charmed children for generations.
Milly-Molly-Mandy is always ready for an adventure, whether she is having a picnic, going sledging, camping out or excavating. Along with Toby the dog, little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt she can always find something to do in the village.
Macmillan Classics: breathing new life into much-loved children’s stories
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