Read Online The Tale of Applebeck Orchard by Susan Albert - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Albert
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front of Rascal.
“It’s about the footpath,” Crumpet said, crowding past Tabitha.
“Don’t push,” snapped the ferret. “It’s not civil.”
“P’rhaps we’d better go away and come back some other time,” Max said in a low voice. “If we’re disturbing you, that is.”
“Of course you’re disturbing me,” the ferret growled, showing his teeth again. He began to close the door, but Crumpet put her paw into it.
“The footpath’s closed,” she said.
“Of course it’s closed,” the ferret growled. “Mr. Harmsworth threw a barricade across it.”
“We’re hoping you can tell us why,” Rascal put in, over Crumpet’s shoulder. “You keep a close eye on what goes on in the neighborhood. We thought you might know—”
“And what if I do?”
“Why, we’ll use the information to get the path opened up again,” Crumpet said.
“Three cats and a dog will open the path? Don’t make me laugh.” The ferret eyed them suspiciously. “Why in thunder are there so many of you? Does it take a whole gang to wake up a fellow and ask him silly questions about a footpath?”
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Max said, feeling now that this really was an ill-advised errand. No matter the ferret’s size, his teeth were undeniably sharp. “We’ll come back another time, when it’s more convenient.” He tugged at Tabitha’s tail. “Let’s go,” he whispered urgently. “Now!”
The ferret peered around the others and gave Max a penetrating look. “Who’re you? And where’d you leave your tail?”
“I’m Max. I’m a Manx. Manx don’t have tails.”
“Ah,” said the ferret thoughtfully. “I have always wanted to meet a Manx.” He made a clucking noise. “Well, since the lot of you are already here, and I’m already awake, I suppose I’ll have to hear what this is all about.” He turned with an undulating, snake-like motion and Max saw that he was very long—longer than a cat, counting his long tail—and very lean and lithe, like a weasel. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “But one at a time, mind. Single file, no shoving. Last one in, close the door. We don’t need any more callers.” And with that, he slithered down the burrow.
This was very like a tunnel, so narrow and twisting that the animals could only go single file, ducking their heads, dropping their tails, and sucking in their breaths to squeeze themselves smaller. Rascal led the way, since he was used to creeping into burrows (he was, after all, a fox terrier), and also because he was acquainted with their host. Tabitha and Crumpet came after, and, as usual, Max brought up the rear, closing the door behind him and throwing them into inky darkness. If he could only manage to turn around, Max thought, he would, and let the others go on without him. But the burrow was so narrow that turning was impossible. There was nowhere to go but forward and down. And then up again, and then down and up and around and around until Max was no longer sure which direction they were going.
Just when he had decided that they were doomed to follow the ferret to the very center of the earth, the turning and twisting stopped and the burrow opened up into a surprisingly pleasant parlor, neatly circular in shape, with a high, domed ceiling, and large enough so that three cats and a small dog and a ferret could fit comfortably into it with very little crowding. The room was nicely furnished with one or two thick white fleeces spread on the floor in place of rugs, a fireplace with a carved wooden mantel, a bolstered brown velvet settee, and a ferret-sized lounge chair constructed like a canvas sling. There was a desk against the wall and shelves filled with what looked like pieces of sculpture and a table with a small paraffin lamp.
But this lamp was not burning at the moment, for the room was amply lit by the natural light that spilled in through a window-sash, set into the ceiling for a skylight. Above the skylight, through a screen
“It’s about the footpath,” Crumpet said, crowding past Tabitha.
“Don’t push,” snapped the ferret. “It’s not civil.”
“P’rhaps we’d better go away and come back some other time,” Max said in a low voice. “If we’re disturbing you, that is.”
“Of course you’re disturbing me,” the ferret growled, showing his teeth again. He began to close the door, but Crumpet put her paw into it.
“The footpath’s closed,” she said.
“Of course it’s closed,” the ferret growled. “Mr. Harmsworth threw a barricade across it.”
“We’re hoping you can tell us why,” Rascal put in, over Crumpet’s shoulder. “You keep a close eye on what goes on in the neighborhood. We thought you might know—”
“And what if I do?”
“Why, we’ll use the information to get the path opened up again,” Crumpet said.
“Three cats and a dog will open the path? Don’t make me laugh.” The ferret eyed them suspiciously. “Why in thunder are there so many of you? Does it take a whole gang to wake up a fellow and ask him silly questions about a footpath?”
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Max said, feeling now that this really was an ill-advised errand. No matter the ferret’s size, his teeth were undeniably sharp. “We’ll come back another time, when it’s more convenient.” He tugged at Tabitha’s tail. “Let’s go,” he whispered urgently. “Now!”
The ferret peered around the others and gave Max a penetrating look. “Who’re you? And where’d you leave your tail?”
“I’m Max. I’m a Manx. Manx don’t have tails.”
“Ah,” said the ferret thoughtfully. “I have always wanted to meet a Manx.” He made a clucking noise. “Well, since the lot of you are already here, and I’m already awake, I suppose I’ll have to hear what this is all about.” He turned with an undulating, snake-like motion and Max saw that he was very long—longer than a cat, counting his long tail—and very lean and lithe, like a weasel. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “But one at a time, mind. Single file, no shoving. Last one in, close the door. We don’t need any more callers.” And with that, he slithered down the burrow.
This was very like a tunnel, so narrow and twisting that the animals could only go single file, ducking their heads, dropping their tails, and sucking in their breaths to squeeze themselves smaller. Rascal led the way, since he was used to creeping into burrows (he was, after all, a fox terrier), and also because he was acquainted with their host. Tabitha and Crumpet came after, and, as usual, Max brought up the rear, closing the door behind him and throwing them into inky darkness. If he could only manage to turn around, Max thought, he would, and let the others go on without him. But the burrow was so narrow that turning was impossible. There was nowhere to go but forward and down. And then up again, and then down and up and around and around until Max was no longer sure which direction they were going.
Just when he had decided that they were doomed to follow the ferret to the very center of the earth, the turning and twisting stopped and the burrow opened up into a surprisingly pleasant parlor, neatly circular in shape, with a high, domed ceiling, and large enough so that three cats and a small dog and a ferret could fit comfortably into it with very little crowding. The room was nicely furnished with one or two thick white fleeces spread on the floor in place of rugs, a fireplace with a carved wooden mantel, a bolstered brown velvet settee, and a ferret-sized lounge chair constructed like a canvas sling. There was a desk against the wall and shelves filled with what looked like pieces of sculpture and a table with a small paraffin lamp.
But this lamp was not burning at the moment, for the room was amply lit by the natural light that spilled in through a window-sash, set into the ceiling for a skylight. Above the skylight, through a screen
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