Milly-Molly-Mandy Again

by Joyce Lankester Brisley

  “Might start a gang of our own,” said Billy Blunt.

  “Oh, yes!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan exactly together. (So then they had to hold each other’s little finger and think of a poet’s name before they did anything else. “Robert Burns!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Shakespeare!” said little-friend-Susan.)

  Then they set to work to think what they could do in their gang.

  “It must be quite different from that other one,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “They knock things down, so we pick things up.”

  “And they leave field-gates open, so we close them,” said little-friend-Susan.

  “And we could have private meetings in our old cycle-shed,” said Billy Blunt. “It’s got a lock and key.”

  That was a splendid idea, and the new gang got busy right away, clearing dust and spiders out of the cycle-shed. (There were no bicycles kept there now.)

  And while they were in the middle of it – sweeping the floor with the garden broom, scraping the corners out with the garden trowel, and rubbing the tiny window with handfuls of grass – suddenly they heard shouting and footsteps running. And through the fence they saw boys tearing down the road from Mrs Jakes the Postman’s wife’s gate.

  “Come on,” said Billy Blunt to his gang.

  And they all ran out to see what had happened.

  Mrs Jakes was in her yard, flapping her hands with annoyance, her clean washing lying all along the ground.

  “Oh-h-h,” she cried, “those boys! They untied the end of my clothes-line. And now look at it.”

  Billy Blunt picked up the end of the rope, and they all tried to lift the clothes-line to tie it up again, but it was too heavy with all the washing on it. So Mrs Jakes told them to unpeg the clothes and take them carefully off the ground, so as not to dirty them any more. The grass was clean and the things were nearly dry, so they weren’t much hurt – only one or two tea-cloths needed to be rinsed where they had touched against the fence.

  THEY ALL RAN OUT TO SEE WHAT HAD HAPPENED

  The new gang collected the pegs into a basket, and helped Mrs Jakes to carry the washing into her kitchen, and she was very grateful for their help.

  “It’s not near so bad as I thought when I first saw that line come down,” she said. “Do you three like gooseberries?”

  She gave them a handful each, and they went back to the cycle-shed and held a private meeting at once.

  The next day Miss Muggins’ Jilly found out about the new gang, and asked if she could join. She wanted to so much that they let her. And they made up some rules, such as not telling secrets of their private meetings, or where the key of the cycle-shed was hidden, and about being always on the look-out to pick things up, and mend things, and shut gates, and about being faithful to the rules of the gang, and that sort of thing.

  Well, they were kept quite busy in one way and another. They helped Mrs Critch the Thatcher’s wife to collect her chickens when they were all let loose into the road. And they kept an eye on the field-gates, that cows and sheep didn’t get a chance of straying. And they rescued hats and caps and things belonging to other children when they were knocked off unexpectedly. And whenever there was anything important to discuss or if any of their gang had anything given to them, such as apples, they would go along to the cycle-shed and call a private meeting.

  They liked those meetings!

  One day, when they had been having a meeting, they saw Timmy Biggs hanging about by the Blunts’ fence, alone. And when Billy Blunt purposely wandered over that way Timmy Biggs said to him, “I say – I suppose you wouldn’t let me join your gang? I don’t like that other one – I’d rather join yours. Could I?”

  Billy Blunt told him he’d have to think about it and ask the others.

  So he did, and they agreed to let Timmy Biggs join, if he promised to keep the rules. So he joined, and they started a rounders team on the waste ground near the school.

  Then two of the other boys took to hanging round watching, as if they wanted to join in. And presently they spoke to Billy Blunt.

  “We don’t like our gang much; we’re tired of it,” they said. “It was his idea.” And they pointed at the third boy, who was sauntering by himself down the lane. He had been their gang leader.

  With seven of them now they could play rounders splendidly, with Billy Blunt’s bat, and Milly-Molly-Mandy and Miss Muggins’ Jilly taking turns to lend their balls. The cycle-shed was too small now to hold their meetings, so they used it as a place to put the gang belongings in or to write important notices.

  Not long after, just as the whole gang was going to begin a game, Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan began whispering together, and glancing at where the once-leader of the other gang was sitting under a tree, watching them (but pretending not to), because he had nothing much else to do.

  When they had finished whispering Billy Blunt walked over to the tree.

  “If you want to join in, come on,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t mind,” said the boy. And he got up quite quickly.

  They had a grand game with so many players, and they worked up a very fine team indeed.

  And do you know, when, a few weeks later, the time came for those three visiting boys to leave the village and go back home, nobody felt so very pleased to see them go.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan and Miss Muggins’ Jilly and Timmy Biggs would have been quite sorry, only that now they could just manage to squeeze into the cycle-shed to have their private meetings again!

  7

  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’ 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!”

  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.

  EVERYTHING OUTSIDE WAS WHITE AS WHITE COULD BE

  “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 tomorrow, 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’ 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 sledge 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.