Read Online Mystery of the Strange Messages by Enid Blyton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Enid Blyton
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years ago. It was a waste of my time to go there.
Is Ern with you, Master Frederick?"
"Yes. I'm just sending him back to you," said Fatty.
"He's been a great help to me this afternoon—nice of you to send him up,
Mr. Goon. Thanks very much."
Goon was astonished. Hadn't Ern told Fatty how angry he had been
with Ern, then—and that he had tried to hit him? Well, Ern could stay another
night with him. and then he could go home. He wasn't much good as a watcher,
and as for paying him another penny, he wasn't even going to think of
it!
Ern arrived, wondering how Goon was going to treat him. He sent
him out to have his supper with Mrs. Hicks in the kitchen. "Got some work
to do," he said, and Ern fled thankfully to the warm kitchen.
He sat down by the fire, and watched Mrs. Hicks making some
pastry. "Funny how neither of us saw that fellow, whoever he was, bringing
that note this afternoon," said Ern.
"Well, I wasn't really looking," said Mrs. Hicks.
"I was just sitting here with my teacup, reading the tea-leaves, like I
always do. You couldn't have been looking either, young man. You can
tell fibs to your uncle, if you like, but you needn't tell them to me. You just
wasn't looking!"
"Oooh, I was," said Ern. "I tell you I never
took my eyes off that yard. Never once. When I'm paid to do a thing I do it,
see? And I never saw anyone—all I saw were the birds flying down to peck at the
bread you threw out."
"Oh—you saw me doing that, did you?" said Mrs. Hicks.
"Well, it's funny you didn't see who brought that note then, because he
must have come along just after that—as I was telling your uncle."
"He couldn't have come then," said Ern. "I
tell you I was watching all the time, Mrs. Hicks. I'm not making a
mistake, I know I'm not."
"Are you telling me that I am, then?" said Mrs.
Hicks.
looking so fierce that Ern felt quite alarmed. "You just be
careful of that tongue of yours, young Ern, else not a mite of supper do you
get."
Ern subsided, feeling puzzled. Everyone was cross with him just
now—but on the whole it was safer to sit with Mrs. Hicks in the kitchen rather
than with his uncle in the office. He wondered if Mrs. Hicks would like to hear
his "pome". It might put her into a better temper.
"I write poetry, Mrs. Hicks," he said.
"Well, I shouldn't think that's very difficult, is it?"
said Mrs. Hicks. "I'd write it meself if I had time."
This was rather damping. Ern tried again. "I'd like to know
what you think of my last pome," he said. "Can I say it to you?"
"If you like," said Mrs. Hicks, still rolling the pastry
vigorously. "Silly stuff really. I used to do reciting at school meself."
"But this is something I made up," said Ern. "At
least—I made up some of it, and a friend of mine made up the other half."
And with that he stood up and recited his verses—and Fatty's—about the
"Poor Old House". He didn't see Mr. Goon at the kitchen door,
standing amazed at Ern's recital. He almost jumped out of his skin when he
heard his uncle's voice at the end.
"Have you taken to poetry writing again, Ern?" said Mr.
Goon. "How many times have I told you it's a waste of time? Do you
remember that rude poem you wrote about me, once? Well, I haven't
forgotten it, see? And what's all that about 'The Ivies' in that poem? Don't
you go putting secret information like that into your poems. You give me that
notebook of yours and let me see what other poems you've got there."
"No, Uncle. My notebook's private," said Ern,
remembering that he had put into it notes of the meetings he had had with Fatty
and the others.
"Now, look here, young Ern," said Goon, advancing on
him, and Ern promptly fled out of the back-door. He saw a black shadow moving
before him, and yelled.
"Uncle! There's someone out here! Quick, uncle!"
Mr. Goon rushed out at once—and ran straight into Mrs. Hicks'
washing-line, which was hung with overalls, two sheets and a dark blanket. The
line broke, and Mr. Goon gave a yell as the blanket folded itself
Is Ern with you, Master Frederick?"
"Yes. I'm just sending him back to you," said Fatty.
"He's been a great help to me this afternoon—nice of you to send him up,
Mr. Goon. Thanks very much."
Goon was astonished. Hadn't Ern told Fatty how angry he had been
with Ern, then—and that he had tried to hit him? Well, Ern could stay another
night with him. and then he could go home. He wasn't much good as a watcher,
and as for paying him another penny, he wasn't even going to think of
it!
Ern arrived, wondering how Goon was going to treat him. He sent
him out to have his supper with Mrs. Hicks in the kitchen. "Got some work
to do," he said, and Ern fled thankfully to the warm kitchen.
He sat down by the fire, and watched Mrs. Hicks making some
pastry. "Funny how neither of us saw that fellow, whoever he was, bringing
that note this afternoon," said Ern.
"Well, I wasn't really looking," said Mrs. Hicks.
"I was just sitting here with my teacup, reading the tea-leaves, like I
always do. You couldn't have been looking either, young man. You can
tell fibs to your uncle, if you like, but you needn't tell them to me. You just
wasn't looking!"
"Oooh, I was," said Ern. "I tell you I never
took my eyes off that yard. Never once. When I'm paid to do a thing I do it,
see? And I never saw anyone—all I saw were the birds flying down to peck at the
bread you threw out."
"Oh—you saw me doing that, did you?" said Mrs. Hicks.
"Well, it's funny you didn't see who brought that note then, because he
must have come along just after that—as I was telling your uncle."
"He couldn't have come then," said Ern. "I
tell you I was watching all the time, Mrs. Hicks. I'm not making a
mistake, I know I'm not."
"Are you telling me that I am, then?" said Mrs.
Hicks.
looking so fierce that Ern felt quite alarmed. "You just be
careful of that tongue of yours, young Ern, else not a mite of supper do you
get."
Ern subsided, feeling puzzled. Everyone was cross with him just
now—but on the whole it was safer to sit with Mrs. Hicks in the kitchen rather
than with his uncle in the office. He wondered if Mrs. Hicks would like to hear
his "pome". It might put her into a better temper.
"I write poetry, Mrs. Hicks," he said.
"Well, I shouldn't think that's very difficult, is it?"
said Mrs. Hicks. "I'd write it meself if I had time."
This was rather damping. Ern tried again. "I'd like to know
what you think of my last pome," he said. "Can I say it to you?"
"If you like," said Mrs. Hicks, still rolling the pastry
vigorously. "Silly stuff really. I used to do reciting at school meself."
"But this is something I made up," said Ern. "At
least—I made up some of it, and a friend of mine made up the other half."
And with that he stood up and recited his verses—and Fatty's—about the
"Poor Old House". He didn't see Mr. Goon at the kitchen door,
standing amazed at Ern's recital. He almost jumped out of his skin when he
heard his uncle's voice at the end.
"Have you taken to poetry writing again, Ern?" said Mr.
Goon. "How many times have I told you it's a waste of time? Do you
remember that rude poem you wrote about me, once? Well, I haven't
forgotten it, see? And what's all that about 'The Ivies' in that poem? Don't
you go putting secret information like that into your poems. You give me that
notebook of yours and let me see what other poems you've got there."
"No, Uncle. My notebook's private," said Ern,
remembering that he had put into it notes of the meetings he had had with Fatty
and the others.
"Now, look here, young Ern," said Goon, advancing on
him, and Ern promptly fled out of the back-door. He saw a black shadow moving
before him, and yelled.
"Uncle! There's someone out here! Quick, uncle!"
Mr. Goon rushed out at once—and ran straight into Mrs. Hicks'
washing-line, which was hung with overalls, two sheets and a dark blanket. The
line broke, and Mr. Goon gave a yell as the blanket folded itself
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