Further Doings of Milly-Molly-Mandy

by Joyce Lankester Brisley

  Milly-Molly-Mandy went a little farther downstream, and poked about with her net in the water; and soon she caught a fish, and put it in her jam-jar, and ran to show it to Billy Blunt. And Billy Blunt said, “Huh!” But he said it wasn’t proper fishing without a rod and line, so it didn’t really count.

  But Milly-Molly-Mandy liked it quite well that way, all the same.

  So they fished and they fished along the banks and sometimes they saw quite big fish, two or three inches long, and Billy Blunt got quite excited and borrowed Milly-Molly-Mandy’s net; and they got a number of fish in their jam-jars.

  “Oh, don’t you wish we’d brought our teas too, so we could stay here a long, long time?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Umm,” said Billy Blunt. “We ought to have done. Expect we’ll have to be getting back soon.”

  So at last as they got hungry, and thirsty too (having finished all the bottle of water), they began to pack up their things and Billy Blunt put on his socks and boots. And they tramped all the way back, scrambling up and down the banks, and jumping the stepping-stones.

  When they got near home Milly-Molly-Mandy said doubtfully, “What about our fishes?”

  And Billy Blunt said, “We don’t really want ’em now, do we? We only wanted a fishing expedition.”

  So they counted how many there were (there were fifteen), and then emptied them back into the brook, where they darted off at once to their meals.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt went on up through the meadow to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, feeling very hungry, and hoping they weren’t too badly late for tea.

  And when they got in Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty were all sitting at table, just finishing – what do you think?

  Why, their midday dinner!

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt couldn’t think how it had happened. But when you get up so very early to go on fishing expeditions, and get so very hungry, well, it is rather difficult to reckon the time properly!

  6

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Helps to Thatch a Roof

  Once upon a time it was a very blustery night, so very blustery that it woke Milly-Molly-Mandy right up several times.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy’s little attic bedroom was just under the thatched roof, so she could hear the wind blowing in the thatch, as well as rattling her little low window, and even shaking her door.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy had to pull the bedclothes well over her ears to shut out some of the noise before she could go to sleep at all, and so did Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty, in their bedrooms. It was so very blustery.

  The next morning, when Milly-Molly-Mandy woke up properly, the wind was still very blustery, though it didn’t sound quite so loud as it did in the dark.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy sat up in her little bed, thinking, “What a noisy night it was!” And she looked toward her little low window to see if it were raining.

  But what do you think she saw? Why, lots of long bits of straw dangling and swaying just outside from the edge of the thatched roof above. And when she got up and looked out of her little low window she saw – why! – lots of long bits of straw lying all over the grass, and all over the flower-beds, and all over the hedge!

  Milly-Molly-Mandy stared round, thinking, “It’s been raining straw in the night!”

  And then she thought some more. And suddenly she said right out loud, “Ooh! The wind’s blowing our nice thatched roof off!”

  And then Milly-Molly-Mandy didn’t wait to think any longer, but ran barefooted down into Father’s and Mother’s room, calling out, “Ooh! Father and Mother! The wind’s blowing our nice thatched roof off, and it’s lying all over the garden!”

  Then Father jumped out of bed, and put his boots on his bare feet, and his big coat over his pyjamas, and ran outside to look. And Mother jumped out of bed, and wrapped the down-quilt round Milly-Molly-Mandy, and went with her to the window to look (but there wasn’t anything to see from there).

  Then Father came back to say that one corner of the thatched roof was being blown off, and it would have to be seen to immediately before it got any worse. And then everybody began to get dressed.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy thought it was kind of funny to have breakfast just the same as usual while the roof was blowing off. She felt very excited about it, and ate her porridge nearly all up before she even remembered beginning it!

  “When shall you see to the roof?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Directly after breakfast?”

  And Father said, “Yes, it must be seen to as soon as possible.”

  “How will you see to it?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy. “With a long ladder?”

  And Father said, “No, it’s too big a job for me. We must send to Mr Critch the Thatcher, and he’ll bring a long ladder and mend it.”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy felt sorry that Father couldn’t mend it himself, but it would be nice to see Mr Critch the Thatcher mend it.

  Directly after breakfast Aunty put on her hat and coat to go down to the village with the message; and Milly-Molly-Mandy put on her hat and coat and went with her, because she wanted to see where Mr Critch the Thatcher lived. And as they went out of the gate the wind got another bit of thatch loose on the roof, and blew it down at them; so they hurried as fast as they could, along the white road with the hedges each side, down to the village.

  But when Aunty knocked at Mr Critch the Thatcher’s door (he lived in one of the little cottages just by the pond where the ducks were), Mrs Critch, the Thatcher’s wife, opened it (and her apron blew about like a flag, it was so windy).

  And Mrs Critch, the Thatcher’s wife, said she was very sorry, but Mr Critch had just gone off in a hurry to mend another roof, and she knew he would not be able to come to them for a couple of days at the earliest, because he was so rushed – “what with this wind and all,” said Mrs Critch.

  “Dear, dear!” said Aunty. “Whatever shall we do?”

  Mrs Critch was sorry, but she did not know what they could do, except wait until Mr Critch could come.

  “Dear, dear!” said Aunty. “And meantime our roof will be getting worse and worse.”

  Then Aunty and Milly-Molly-Mandy said good morning to Mrs Critch, and went out through her little gate into the road again.

  “Father will have to mend it now, won’t he, Aunty?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “It isn’t at all easy to thatch a roof,” said Aunty. “You have to know how. I wonder what we can do!”

  They set off back home along the white road with the hedges each side, and Aunty said, “Well, there must be a way out, somehow.” And Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “I expect Father will know what to do.”

  So they hurried along, holding their hats on.

  As they passed the Moggs’ cottage they saw little-friend-Susan trying to hang a towel on the line, with the wind trying all the time to wrap her up in it.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy called out, “Hullo, Susan! Our roof’s being blown off, and Mr Critch the Thatcher can’t come and mend it, so Father will have to. Do you want to come and see?” Little-friend-Susan was very interested, and as soon as she had got the towel up she came along with them.

  When Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle heard their news they all looked as if they were saying, “Dear, dear!” to themselves. But Milly-Molly-Mandy looked quite pleased, and said, “Now you’ll have to mend the roof, won’t you, Father?”

  And Father looked at Uncle, and said, “Well, Joe. How about it?” And Uncle said, “Right, John!” in his big voice.

  And then Father and Uncle buttoned their jackets (so that the wind shouldn’t flap them), and fetched ladders (to reach the roof with), and a rake (to comb the straw tidy with), and wooden pegs (with which to fasten it down). And then they put one ladder so that they could climb up to the thatched roof, and another ladder with hooks on the end so that they could climb up on the thatched roof; and then Father gathered up a big armful of straw, and he and Un
cle set to work busily to mend the hole in the thatch as well as they could, till Mr Critch the Thatcher could come.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan, down below, set to work busily to collect the straw from the hedges and the flower-beds and the grass, piling it up in one corner, ready for Father when he came down for another armful. And they helped to hold the ladder steady, and handed up sticks for making the pattern round the edge of the thatch, and fetched things that Father or Uncle called out for, and were very useful indeed.

  Soon the roof began to look much better.

  Then Father fetched a big pair of shears, and he snip-snip-snipped the straggly ends of the straw all round Milly-Molly-Mandy’s little bedroom window up under the roof. (Milly-Molly-Mandy thought it was just like the nice white cottage having its hair cut!) And then Father and Uncle stretched a big piece of wire netting over the mended place, and fastened it down with pegs. (Milly-Molly-Mandy thought it was just like the nice white cottage having a hair-net put on and fastened with hairpins!)

  SOON THE ROOF BEGAN TO LOOK MUCH BETTER

  And then the roof was all trim and tidy again, and they wouldn’t feel in any sort of a hurry for Mr Critch the Thatcher to come and thatch it properly.

  “Isn’t it a lovely roof?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “I knew Father could do it!”

  “Well, you can generally manage to do a thing when you have to, Milly-Molly-Mandy,” said Father, but he looked quite pleased with himself, and so did Uncle.

  And when they saw what a nice snug roof they had now, so did Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Aunty and Milly-Molly-Mandy!

  7

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Writes Letters

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy heard the postman’s knock, bang-BANG! on the front door; so she ran hop-skip down the passage to look in the letter-box, because she always sort of hoped there might be a letter for her!

  But there wasn’t.

  “I do wish the postman would bring me a letter sometimes,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, coming slowly back into the kitchen. “He never does. There’s only a business-looking letter for Father and an advertisement for Uncle.”

  And then Milly-Molly-Mandy noticed that the business-looking letter was from Holland (where Father got his flower bulbs) and had a Dutch stamp on it, so that was more interesting. Milly-Molly-Mandy was collecting foreign stamps. She had collected one Irish one already, and it was stuck in Billy Blunt’s new stamp album. (Billy Blunt had just started collecting stamps, so Milly-Molly-Mandy was collecting for him.)

  “If you want the postman to bring you letters you’ll have to write them to other people first,” said Mother, putting the letters upon the mantelshelf till Father and Uncle should come in.

  “But I haven’t got any stamps,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “I’ll give you one when you want it,” said Grandma, pulling the kettle forward on the stove.

  “But I don’t know who to write to,” said

  Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “You’ll have to think round a little,” said Aunty, clearing her sewing off the table.

  “There’s only Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan, and it would be silly to write to them when I see them every day,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “We must just think,” said Mother, spreading the cloth on the table for tea. “There are sure to be lots of people who would like to have letters by post, as well as you.”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy hadn’t thought of that. “Do you suppose they’d run like anything to the letter-box because they thought there might be a letter from me?” she said. “What fun! I’ve got the fancy notepaper that Aunty gave me at Christmas – they’ll like that, won’t they? Who can I write to?”

  And then she helped to lay the table, and made a piece of toast at the fire for Grandma; and presently Father and Uncle and Grandpa came in to tea, and Milly-Molly-Mandy was given the Dutch stamp off Father’s letter. She put it in her pencil-box, ready for Billy Blunt in the morning.

  And then she had an idea. “If I could write to someone not in England they’d stick foreign stamps on their letters when they wrote back, wouldn’t they?”

  And then Aunty had an idea. “Why, there are my little nieces in America!” she said. (For Aunty had a brother who went to America when he was quite young, and now he had three little children, whom none of them had seen or knew hardly anything about, for “Tom”, as Aunty called him, wasn’t a very good letter writer, and only wrote to her sometimes at Christmas.)

  “Ooh, yes!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “and I don’t believe Billy has an American stamp yet. What are their names, Aunty? I forget.”

  “Sallie and Lallie,” said Aunty, “and the boy is Tom, after my brother, but they call him Buddy. They would like to have a letter from their cousin in England, I’m sure.”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy looked out the box of fancy notepaper that Aunty had given her, and kept it by her side while she did her home-lessons after tea. And then, when she had done them all, she wrote quite a long letter to her cousin Sallie (at least it looked quite a long letter, because the pink notepaper was rather small), telling about her school, and her friends, and Billy Blunt’s collection, and about Toby the dog, and Topsy the cat, and what Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty were all doing at that moment in the kitchen, and outside in the barn; so that Sallie should get to know them all. And then there was just room to send her love to Lallie and Buddy, and to sign her name.

  It was quite a nice letter.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy showed it to Mother and Aunty, and then (just to make it more interesting) she put in a piece of coloured silver paper and two primroses (the first she had found that year), and stuck down the flap of the pink envelope.

  The next morning she posted her letter in the red pillar-box on the way to school (little-friend-Susan was quite interested when she showed her the address); and then she tried to forget all about it, because she knew it would take a long while to get there and a longer while still for an answering letter to come back.

  After morning school she gave the Dutch stamp to Billy Blunt for his collection. He said he had got one, as they were quite common, but that it might come in useful for exchanging with some other fellow. And after school that very afternoon he told her he had exchanged it for a German stamp; so it was very useful.

  “Have you got an American stamp?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “No,” said Billy Blunt. “What I want to get hold of is a Czechoslovakian one. Ted Smale’s just got one. His uncle gave it to him.”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy didn’t think she could ever collect such a stamp as that for Billy Blunt, but she was glad he hadn’t got an American one yet.

  All that week and the next Milly-Molly-Mandy rushed to the letter-box every time she heard the postman, although she knew there wouldn’t be an answer for about three weeks, anyhow. But the postman’s knock, bang-BANG! sounded so exciting she always forgot to remember in time.

  A whole month went by, and Milly-Molly-Mandy began almost to stop expecting a letter at all, or at least one from abroad.

  And then one day she came home after school a bit later than usual, because she and little-friend-Susan had been picking wild-flowers and primroses under a hedge, very excited to think spring had really come. But when she did get in what DO you think she found waiting for her, on her plate at the table?

  Why, three letters, just come by post! One from Sallie, one from Lallie, and one from Buddy!

  They were so pleased at having a letter from England that they had all written back, hoping she would write again. And they sent some snapshots of themselves, and Buddy enclosed a Japanese stamp for Billy Blunt’s collection.

  The next Saturday Billy Blunt came to tea with Milly-Molly-Mandy and she gave him the four stamps, three American and one Japanese. And, though he said they were not really valuable ones, he was pleased as anything to have them!

  THEY SAT AND WROTE LETTERS TOGETHER

  And when the table
was cleared they sat and wrote letters together – Milly-Molly-Mandy to Sallie and Lallie, and Billy Blunt to Buddy (to thank him for the stamp), with a little P.S. from Milly-Molly-Mandy (to thank him for his letter).

  Milly-Molly-Mandy does like letter-writing, because now she has got three more friends!

  8

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Learns to Ride

  Once upon a time, when Milly-Molly-Mandy had gone down to the village to get some things for Mother at the grocer’s shop, she saw Miss Muggins’ little niece Jilly wheeling a bicycle out of their side door.

  It was a young bicycle, not a grown-up one, and it was very new, and very shiny, and very black-and-silvery.

  “Hullo!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, looking at it interestedly, “is that your bicycle?”

  “Hullo!” said Miss Muggins’ Jilly, trying to look as if nothing unusual were happening. “Yes. My uncle gave it to me.”

  “Can you ride it?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Oh, yes,” said Miss Muggins’ Jilly, “I ride it up and down the road. I’m just going to do it now. Goodbye.” And she got up on it and rode off (rather wobblily, but still she did it) toward the crossroads.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy went into the grocer’s shop with her basket, wishing she could have a ride, but of course as it was such a beautiful new bicycle she hadn’t liked to ask.

  When she came out again Miss Muggins’ Jilly passed her, riding back; and she got off when she came to the letter-box at the corner to turn round, because she couldn’t ride round without toppling over yet.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy couldn’t help saying to her longingly, “I do wish I could have a little ride on it.”

  But Miss Muggins’ Jilly said, “I don’t expect you could if you’ve never learned – you’d fall off. And my Aunty says I’ve got to be very careful with it, because it’s new. I’m going to ride back to the crossroads now. Goodbye.” And Miss Muggins’ Jilly rode off again, and Milly-Molly-Mandy walked on homeward.