Read Online The Peppermint Pig by Nina Bawden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nina Bawden
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One time Marigold almost got caught. She came face to face with old Mullen and he said, “What are you up to, Miss? What have you got in your apron?” I was behind her, nearly dying of fright, but Marigold stuck her nose in the air and said, “I’m surprised at you, Mr Mullen, asking a lady such an indelicate question,” and swept straight past him, oozing outrage and virtue! Oh, it doesn’t sound so funny perhaps, but we had a good laugh over the look on his face and it makes me sad to see the meek way she speaks to him now…’
She gave a long sigh, looking into the fire, and then her face twisted suddenly and she turned to Lily and said, almost desperately, ‘Remember, Lily, that’s the worst thing about poverty! Not hunger or leaky boots but the way it drains out your spirit! However things turn out, you must never let that happen to you. Promise me!’
Poll said, bewildered, ‘I would hate to be hungry,’ and her mother gasped and jumped up from herchair and put her arms round her, holding her so close and tight that Poll could feel her heart fluttering.
‘Oh my lamb, of course you’re never going to be. Did I frighten you? That was stupid, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Everything is going to be quite all right, you must believe me.’
Lily laughed. ‘Poll knows Aunt Sarah wouldn’t let us starve. She’s just acting up, you know what she is! Don’t worry, Mother.’
Poll heard her mother’s stays creak as she drew a deep breath and released it slowly. She let Poll go, smiled at Lily and said in a quiet, even voice, ‘Yes, of course, dear. Of course we all know that. I was just being silly.’
She had a notice printed to send to old clients and stuck one in the window.
EMILY GREENGRASS
Begs respectfully to inform the Ladies of this
District that she has Commenced
DRESS AND MANTLE MAKING
and hopes, by strict personal attention, to merit
a share of their Patronage and Support .
Having been sole manageress of the Dressmaking
Department of a well-known local store for a number of
years, she feels confident of giving satisfaction to her
Customers in all orders entrusted to her.
A GOOD FIT AND LATEST STYLE
GUARANTEED
No one answered, or came for several days, and then one afternoon old Miss Mantripp, who lived in the cottage at the end of the terrace, knocked at the door and asked if Mother could make her a blouse out of some lace she had ‘put by’ for a special occasion.
‘It’s very good lace, Mrs Greengrass,’ she said. ‘The end of a bolt brought from Paris that her Ladyship gave me. I would have made it up myself but my eyes are too bad now for delicate work. I hope you’ll take good care of it.’
Miss Mantripp was about four foot six inches tall and bent over so that she appeared even smaller. She was a retired lady’s maid, living on a tiny pension her employers had given her, and the children thought she was an extraordinary person. If anyone spoke to her early in the day, when she was shaking her rug at the door, or shuffling along to the shops in an old coat and slippers, all she would ever say was, ‘Don’t talk mornings,’ in a gruff, grumpy voice. But as soon as midday had struck she took off her shabby clothes, put on a black dress with pearl buttons and sat in her window with the curtains drawn back, looking out at the Square and waiting for visitors.
No one ever came. Miss Mantripp was quite alone in the world, Mother said, and when the old woman called that afternoon, bringing the lace, Mother greeted her in her gentlest voice and sat down by the fire.
Miss Mantripp was wearing her black dress and a huge, ancient straw hat that was nibbled into small holes round the edges as if the mice had been at it. Standing behind her chair, Poll nudged Lily and giggled, but Mother froze them both still with a look.
The lace might have been good once but it was now just very old lace and rotten in places. Mother rolled it up very carefully and said it would be a
She gave a long sigh, looking into the fire, and then her face twisted suddenly and she turned to Lily and said, almost desperately, ‘Remember, Lily, that’s the worst thing about poverty! Not hunger or leaky boots but the way it drains out your spirit! However things turn out, you must never let that happen to you. Promise me!’
Poll said, bewildered, ‘I would hate to be hungry,’ and her mother gasped and jumped up from herchair and put her arms round her, holding her so close and tight that Poll could feel her heart fluttering.
‘Oh my lamb, of course you’re never going to be. Did I frighten you? That was stupid, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Everything is going to be quite all right, you must believe me.’
Lily laughed. ‘Poll knows Aunt Sarah wouldn’t let us starve. She’s just acting up, you know what she is! Don’t worry, Mother.’
Poll heard her mother’s stays creak as she drew a deep breath and released it slowly. She let Poll go, smiled at Lily and said in a quiet, even voice, ‘Yes, of course, dear. Of course we all know that. I was just being silly.’
She had a notice printed to send to old clients and stuck one in the window.
EMILY GREENGRASS
Begs respectfully to inform the Ladies of this
District that she has Commenced
DRESS AND MANTLE MAKING
and hopes, by strict personal attention, to merit
a share of their Patronage and Support .
Having been sole manageress of the Dressmaking
Department of a well-known local store for a number of
years, she feels confident of giving satisfaction to her
Customers in all orders entrusted to her.
A GOOD FIT AND LATEST STYLE
GUARANTEED
No one answered, or came for several days, and then one afternoon old Miss Mantripp, who lived in the cottage at the end of the terrace, knocked at the door and asked if Mother could make her a blouse out of some lace she had ‘put by’ for a special occasion.
‘It’s very good lace, Mrs Greengrass,’ she said. ‘The end of a bolt brought from Paris that her Ladyship gave me. I would have made it up myself but my eyes are too bad now for delicate work. I hope you’ll take good care of it.’
Miss Mantripp was about four foot six inches tall and bent over so that she appeared even smaller. She was a retired lady’s maid, living on a tiny pension her employers had given her, and the children thought she was an extraordinary person. If anyone spoke to her early in the day, when she was shaking her rug at the door, or shuffling along to the shops in an old coat and slippers, all she would ever say was, ‘Don’t talk mornings,’ in a gruff, grumpy voice. But as soon as midday had struck she took off her shabby clothes, put on a black dress with pearl buttons and sat in her window with the curtains drawn back, looking out at the Square and waiting for visitors.
No one ever came. Miss Mantripp was quite alone in the world, Mother said, and when the old woman called that afternoon, bringing the lace, Mother greeted her in her gentlest voice and sat down by the fire.
Miss Mantripp was wearing her black dress and a huge, ancient straw hat that was nibbled into small holes round the edges as if the mice had been at it. Standing behind her chair, Poll nudged Lily and giggled, but Mother froze them both still with a look.
The lace might have been good once but it was now just very old lace and rotten in places. Mother rolled it up very carefully and said it would be a
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