Milly-Molly-Mandy Again

by Joyce Lankester Brisley

  4

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and the Blacksmith’s Wedding

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was going to a wedding.

  It wasn’t just the ordinary sort of wedding, where you stared through the churchyard railings, wondering at ladies walking outdoors in their party clothes and who the man in the tight collar was.

  This was a very important wedding indeed.

  Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was marrying the young lady who helped in Mrs Hubble the Baker’s shop. And (which Milly-Molly-Mandy thought was the most important part) there were to be two bridesmaids. And the bridesmaids were Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy was sorry that Billy Blunt couldn’t be a bridesmaid too, but Billy Blunt said he didn’t care because he thought the most important part came later.

  In the village, in olden days, when the blacksmith or any of his family got married, he used to “fire the anvil” outside his forge, with real gunpowder, to celebrate! That’s what Mr Rudge the Blacksmith said. He said his father had been married that way, and his uncle, and both his aunts, and his grandpa, and his great-grandpa a long time back. And that was how he meant to be married too, quite properly.

  Billy Blunt didn’t think many blacksmiths could be properly married, for he had never seen a blacksmith’s wedding before, nor even heard one, and neither had Milly-Molly-Mandy, nor little-friend-Susan.

  Anyhow, though he wasn’t a bridesmaid, Billy Blunt had a proper invitation to the wedding, like Mr and Mrs Blunt (Billy Blunt’s father and mother), and Mr and Mrs Moggs (little-friend-Susan’s father and mother), and Milly-Molly-Mandy’s Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty, and some other important friends. (For, of course, only important friends get proper invitations to weddings; the other sort have to peep through the railings or hang round by the lane.)

  Well, it was only a few days to the wedding now, and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt were coming home from afternoon school. And when they came to the corn-shop (where Billy Blunt lived) they could hear clink-clang noises coming from the forge near by; so they all went round by the lane to have a look in. (For nobody can pass near a forge when things are going on without wanting to look in.)

  Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was mending a plough, which wasn’t quite so interesting to watch as shoeing a horse, but there was a nice piece of red-hot metal being hammered and bent to the right shape. The great iron hammer bounced off each time, as if it knew just how hot the metal was and didn’t want to stay there long, and the iron anvil rang so loudly at every bang and bounce that the Blacksmith couldn’t hear anyone speak. But presently he turned and buried the metal in his fire to heat it again, and the Blacksmith’s Boy began working the handle of the bellows up and down till the flames roared and sparks flew.

  It was just quiet enough then for Milly-Molly-Mandy to call out:

  “Hullo, Mr Rudge.”

  And Mr Rudge said, “Hullo, there! Been turned out of school again, have you? Go on, Reginald, push her up.”

  So the boy pushed harder at the handle, and the fire roared and the sparks flew.

  “Is that really his name?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “My name’s Tom,” said the boy, pumping away.

  “Can’t have two Toms here,” said the Blacksmith. “That’s my name. He’ll have to be content with Reginald. Now then, out of the way, there!”

  They all scattered in a hurry as the Blacksmith brought the piece of metal glowing hot out of the fire with his long-handled tongs, and laid it on the anvil again, and began to drill screw-holes in it. The drill seemed to go through the red-hot iron as easily as if it were cheese. As it cooled off and turned grey and hard again, the Blacksmith put it back into the fire. So then they could talk some more.

  “Where do you put the gunpowder when you fire the anvil?” asked Billy Blunt.

  “In that hole there,” said the Blacksmith, pointing at his anvil.

  So Billy Blunt and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan bent over to see. And, sure enough, there was a small square hole in the top of the anvil. (You look at an anvil if you get the chance, and see.)

  “That won’t hold very much,” said little-friend-Susan, quite disappointed.

  “It’ll hold a famous big bang – you wait,” said the Blacksmith. “You don’t want me to blow up all the lot of you, do you?”

  “Have you got the gunpowder ready?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “I have,” said Mr Rudge.

  “Where do you keep it?” asked little-friend-Susan, looking about.

  “Not just around here, I can tell you that much,” said Mr Rudge.

  “Where do you get the gunpowder?” asked Billy Blunt.

  But the Blacksmith said he wasn’t giving away any secrets like that. And he brought the piece of metal out of the fire and started hammering again.

  When he had put it back into the fire Milly-Molly-Mandy said:

  “Aunty has nearly finished making our bridesmaids’ dresses, Mr Rudge.”

  “I should hope so!” said the Blacksmith. “How do you suppose I’m to be married next Saturday if you bridesmaids aren’t ready? Go on, Reginald, get a move on.”

  “They’re long dresses, almost down to our feet,” said little-friend-Susan. “But we’re to have a lot of tucks put in them afterwards, so that we can wear them for Sunday-best. And when we grow the tucks can be let out.”

  “That’s an idea,” said the Blacksmith. “I’ll ask for tucks to be put in my wedding suit, so that I can wear it for Sunday-best afterwards.”

  Whereupon the Blacksmith’s Boy burst out laughing so loudly, as he worked the bellows, that he made more noise than the other three all put together.

  The Blacksmith fished the red-hot metal from the fire, and plunged it for a second into a tank of water near by, and there was a great hissing and steaming, and a lot of queer smell.

  “What do you do that for?” asked Billy Blunt.

  “Tempers the iron,” said the Blacksmith, trying it against the plough to see if it fitted properly; “brisks it up, like when you have a cold bath on a hot day.”

  He laid it on the anvil, and took up a smaller hammer and began tapping away. So Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt thought perhaps it was time to go now, so they said goodbye and went off home to their teas.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan had another trying-on of their bridesmaids’ dresses after tea. And Aunty stitched and stitched away, so that they should be ready in time for the wedding.

  Well, the great day came. And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan, dressed alike in long pink dresses with bunches of roses in their hands, followed the young lady who helped Mrs Hubble the Baker, up the aisle of the church, to where Mr Rudge the Blacksmith was waiting.

  Mr Rudge looked so clean in his new navy blue suit with shiny white collar and cuffs and a big white button-hole, that Milly-Molly-Mandy hardly knew him (though she had seen him clean before, when he played cricket on the playing-field, or walked out with the young lady who helped Mrs Hubble the Baker).

  Then, when the marrying was done, Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan followed the Bride and Bridegroom down the aisle to the door, while everybody in the pews smiled and smiled, and Miss Bloss, who played the harmonium behind a red curtain, played so loudly and cheerfully, and Reginald the Blacksmith’s Boy who pumped the bellows for her (so he did a lot of pumping one way and another) pushed the handle up and down so vigorously, it’s a wonder they didn’t burst the harmonium between them. (But they didn’t often have a wedding to play for.)

  THEY STOOD ON THE CHURCH STEP TO BE PHOTOGRAPHED

  Then the two Bridesmaids, with the Bride and Bridegroom, of course, stood outside on the church step to be photographed.

  Then everybody walked in a procession down the lane, past the Blacksmith’s house and past the forge (which was closed), and up the road to the Inn, where a room had been hired for
the wedding-breakfast (though it was early afternoon).

  And then everybody stood around eating and drinking and making jokes and laughing and making speeches and clapping and laughing a lot more.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt ate and laughed and clapped as much as anyone (though I’m not sure if Billy Blunt laughed as much as the others, as he was so busy “sampling” things).

  They had two ice-creams each (as Grandma and one or two others didn’t want theirs), and they had a big slice of wedding cake each, as well as helpings of nearly everything else, because Mr Rudge insisted on their having it, though their mothers said they’d had quite enough. (He was a very nice man!)

  And then came the great moment when everybody came out of the Inn and went to the forge to fire the anvil.

  Mr Rudge unlocked the big doors and fastened them back. And then he and Father and Uncle and Mr Blunt and Mr Smale the Grocer between them pulled and pushed the heavy anvil outside into the lane. (The anvil had been cleaned up specially, so it didn’t make their hands as dirty as you might think.)

  And then Mr Rudge put some black powder into the little square hole in the anvil (Billy Blunt didn’t see where he got it from). And the men-folk arranged a long piece of cord (which they called the fuse) from the hole down on to the ground. And then Mr Rudge took a box of matches from his pocket, and struck one, and set the end of the fuse alight.

  And then everybody ran back and made a big half-circle round the front of the forge and waited.

  Mother and Mrs Moggs and Mrs Blunt wanted Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt to keep near them, and Mr Rudge kept by the young lady who used to help Mrs Hubble the Baker (but she wasn’t going to any more, as she was Mrs Rudge now, and Mr Rudge said she’d have her work cut out looking after him). She seemed very frightened and held her hands over her ears, so he kept his arm round her.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan put their hands half over their ears and hopped up and down excitedly. But Billy Blunt put his hands in his pockets and stood quite still. He said he didn’t want to waste any of the bang.

  The little flame crept along the fuse, nearer and nearer. And it began to creep up the anvil. And they all waited, breathless, for the big bang. They waited. And they waited.

  And they waited.

  “What’s the matter with the thing?” said Mr Rudge, taking his arm away from the young lady who was Mrs Rudge now. “Has the fuse gone out? Keep back, everybody, it isn’t safe yet.”

  So they waited some more. But still nothing happened.

  At last Mr Rudge walked over to the anvil, and so did the other men (though the women didn’t want them to).

  “Ha!” said Mr Rudge. “Fuse went out just as it reached the edge of the anvil. Now what’ll we do? It’s too short to re-light.”

  “I’ve got some string,” said Billy Blunt, and he rummaged in his breeches pocket.

  “Bring it here, and let’s have a look at it,” said Mr Rudge.

  So Billy Blunt went close and gave it to him (and took a good look into the hole at the same time).

  “Will that carry the flame, d’you think?” said Father.

  “Might do, if you give it a rub with a bit of candle-wax,” said Mr Smale the Grocer.

  “I think I’ve got a bit of wax,” said Billy Blunt, rummaging in his pocket again.

  “Hand it over,” said Mr Rudge. “What else have you got in there – a general store?”

  “It’s bees-wax, not candle-wax, though,” said Billy Blunt.

  “Never mind, so long as it’s wax,” said Mr Blunt.

  “It’s got a bit stuck,” said Billy Blunt, still rummaging.

  “You boys – whatever will you put in your pockets next?” said Mrs Blunt.

  “Better turn it inside out,” said Uncle

  So Billy Blunt pulled his whole pocket outside. And there were a lot of things in it – marbles, and horse-chestnuts, and putty, and a pocket-knife, and a pencil-holder, and a broken key, and a ha’penny, and several bus tickets, and some other things. And stuck half into the lining at the seam was a lump of bees-wax, which they dug off with the pocket-knife.

  “You have your uses, William,” said Mr Rudge. And he waxed the string, and arranged it to hang from the anvil along the ground. And he struck a match and lit the end. And everybody ran back again in a hurry, and made a big half-circle round the anvil, and waited as before.

  And the little flame crept along, and it paused and looked as if it were going out, and it crept on again, and it reached the anvil, and it began to creep up, and everybody waited, and Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan put their hands over their ears and smiled at each other, and Billy Blunt put his hands deep in his pockets and frowned straight ahead.

  And the little flame crept up the string to the top of the anvil, and everybody held their breath, and Milly-Molly-Mandy pressed her hands hard over her ears, and then she was afraid she might not hear enough so she lifted them off – and, just at that very moment, there came a great big enormous

  BANG!

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan jumped and gave a shriek because they were so splendidly startled (even though they were expecting it). And Billy Blunt grinned and looked pleased. And everybody began to talk and exclaim together as they went forward to look at the anvil (which wasn’t hurt at all, only a bit dirty-looking round the hole).

  Then everybody shook hands with the Blacksmith and his Bride, and told them they certainly had been properly married, and wished them well. And the Blacksmith thanked them all heartily.

  And when it came time for Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt to shake hands and say thank-you-for-a-nice-wedding-party, Mr Rudge said:

  “Well, now, what sort of a wedding it would have been without you bridesmaids, and Billy Blunt to provide all our requirements out of his ample pockets, I just cannot conceive!”

  And everybody laughed, and Mr Rudge smacked Billy Blunt on the shoulder so that he nearly fell over (but it didn’t hurt him).

  So then Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt each knew that they had been very important indeed in helping to give Mr Rudge a really proper Blacksmith’s Wedding!

  5

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and Dum-dum

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was wandering past the Big House down by the crossroads where the little girl Jessamine, and her mother, Mrs Green, lived (only they were away just now).

  There was always a lot of flowers in the garden of the Big House, so it was nice to peep through the gate when you passed. Besides, Mr Moggs, little-friend-Susan’s father, worked there (he was the gardener), and Milly-Molly-Mandy could see him now, weeding with a long-handled hoe.

  “Hullo, Mr Moggs,” Milly-Molly-Mandy called through the gate (softly, because you don’t like to shout in other people’s gardens, even when you know the people are away). “Could I come in, do you think?”

  Mr Moggs looked up and said, “Well, now, I shouldn’t wonder but that you could!”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy pushed open the big iron gate and slipped through.

  “Isn’t it pretty here!” she said, looking about her. “What do you weed it for, when there’s nobody to see?”

  “Ah,” said Mr Moggs, “you learn it doesn’t do to let things go, in a garden, or anywhere else. Weeds and all such like, they get to thinking they own the place if you let ’em alone awhile.”

  He went on scratching out weeds, so Milly-Molly-Mandy gathered them into his big wheelbarrow for him.

  Presently Mr Moggs scratched out a worm along with a tuft of dandelion, and Milly-Molly-Mandy squeaked because she nearly took hold of it without noticing (only she just didn’t).

  “Don’t you like worms?” asked Mr Moggs.

  “No,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “I don’t!”

  “Ah,” said Mr Moggs. “I know someone who does, though.”

  “Who?” asked Milly-Molly-Mandy, sit
ting back on her heels.

  “Old Dum-dum’s very partial to a nice fat worm,” said Mr Moggs. “Haven’t you met old Dum-dum?”

  “No,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Who’s old Dum-dum?”

  “You come and see,” said Mr Moggs. “I’ve got to feed him before I go off home.”

  He trundled the barrow to the back garden and emptied it on the rubbish heap, and Milly-Molly-Mandy followed, carrying the worm on a trowel.

  Mr Moggs got a little tin full of grain from the tool-shed, and pulled a lettuce from the vegetable bed, and then he went to the end of the garden, Milly-Molly-Mandy following.

  There was a little square of grass fenced off with wire netting in which was a little wooden gate. And in the middle of the square of grass was a little round pond. And standing at the edge of the little round pond, looking very solemn, hunched up in his feathers, was Dum-dum.

  “Oh!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Dum-dum is a duck!”

  “Well, he’s a drake, really,” said Mr Moggs. “See the little curly feathers on his tail? That shows he’s a gentleman. Lady ducks don’t have curls on their tails.” He leaned over the netting and emptied the grain into a feeding-pan lying on the grass. “Come on, quack-quack!” said Mr Moggs. “Here’s your supper.”

  Dum-dum looked round at him, and at Milly-Molly-Mandy. Then he waddled slowly over on his yellow webbed feet, and shuffled his beak in the pan for a moment. Then he waddled slowly back to his pond, dipped down and took a sip, and stood as before, looking very solemn, hunched up in his feathers, with a drop of water hanging from his flat yellow beak.

  “He doesn’t want any supper!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Why doesn’t he?”

  “Feels lonely, that’s what. Misses the folk up at the Big House. They used to come and talk to him sometimes and give him bits. He’s the little girl Jessamine’s pet.”