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at once and wrinkled their noses in the drizzle.
'It's raining,'said a small woody.
'I'm hungry,' said another.
Snufkin looked helplessly at Little My.
'Scare them with the Groke!' she suggested. 'That's what my sister used to do.'
'Does it make you a good girl?' asked Snufkin.
'Of course not!' said Little My and laughed so that she toppled over.
Snufkin sighed. 'Come along, come along,' he said. 'Rise up, rise up! Hurry up and I'll show you something!'
'What?' asked the woodies.
'Something...' said Snufkin uncertainly and waved his hands.
*
They walked and they walked.
And it rained and rained.
The woodies sneezed and lost their shoes and asked why they couldn't have some bread and butter. A few of them started a fight. One rammed his snout full of spruce needles, and another one got pricked by a hedgehog.
Snufkin came near to feeling sorry for the Park Wardress. He was now carrying one woody on his hat, two on his shoulders, and two more under his arms. Drenched and unhappy he stumbled along through the blueberry scrub.
At that moment, that most melancholy moment, they arrived at a glade. And in the middle of the glade was a small house with withered garlands around its chimneystack and gateposts. Snufkin staggered to the door on wobbly legs. He knocked and waited.
Nobody opened.
He knocked once more. Nothing. Then he pushed the door open and stepped in.
Nobody was at home. The flowers on the table were faded, the clock had stopped. He put down the woodies
and went across the floor to the cold stove. There had been a pancake once. He went to look for a pantry. The woodies silently followed him with their eyes.
A moment of suspense followed. Then Snufkin returned with a whole keg of beans and put it on the table: 'Now you can eat yourselves square and round again on beans,' he said. 'Because we're going to stay here a little while and calm down until I've learned your names. Light my pipe, someone!'
All the woodies rushed to light his pipe.
A while later there was a good fire in the stove, and all dresses and skirts and trousers were hung up to dry. A large dish of steaming beans stood on the table, and outside the rain was gushing down from an evenly grey sky.
They listened to the rain scuttling over the roof and the logs crackling in the stove.
'Well, what about it, eh?' Snufkin asked. 'Who wants to go back to the sand-box?'
The woodies looked at him and laughed. Then they started on the Fillyjonk's brown beans.
But the Fillyjonk was, as we know, quite unaware that she had guests, because she was already in jail for disorderly behaviour.
CHAPTER 10
About the dress rehearsal
IT was the day of the dress rehearsal of Moominpappa's play, and all the footlights were burning, although it was still only afternoon.
The beavers had been promised free tickets for the first night the following day if they would push the theatre back on an even keel, and now it was almost right, but the stage still slanted a little which made the acting slightly strained.
The curtain was drawn, red and mysterious, and outside on the water a small flotilla of boats was curiously bobbing. They had waited since sunrise, and the people in them had brought their own dinners with them in paper bags, because dress rehearsals always take a lot of time.
'Mother, what's a dress rehearsal?' asked a poor hedge-hog child in one of the boats.
'It's when they practise the play for the very last time to be quite sure that everything's in order,' explained the hedgehog mother. 'Tomorrow they'll act in real earnest, and then one has to pay to look at them. Today's free for poor hedgehogs like us.'
But the people behind the curtain were not at all sure that everything was in order. Moominpappa was rewriting his play. Misabel was crying.
'Didn't we tell you that we both wanted to die in the end!' exclaimed the Mymble's daughter. 'Why should only she be eaten by the lion? The Lion's Brides, we told you. Don't you remember?'
'All
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