Read Online Vile Visitors by Diana Wynne Jones - Free Book Online

anxiously round Chair Person when Simon and Marcia came to fetch him. Chair Person was still standing like a statue in the road.
    â€œIs he ill?” the lady from Number 27 asked.
    â€œNo, he’s not,” Marcia said. “He’s just eccentric. The Vicar says so.”
    Simon did his very best to imitate Mr Pennyfeather. “Right,” he barked at Chair Person. “You can move now. We’re going to a party.”
    Though Simon sounded to himself just like a nervous person talking loudly, Chair Person at once started snuffling and waving his arms about. “Oh – hn hm – good,” he said. “I believe I shall like a party. What snuffle party is it? Conservative, labour or that party whose name keeps changing? Should I be – hn hm – sick of the moon or over the parrot?”
    At this, all the neighbours nodded to one another. “ Very eccentric,” the lady from Number 27 said as they all went away.
    Simon and Marcia led Chair Person towards the Community Hall trying to explain that it was a party for The Society for Underprivileged Children. “And we’re supposed to be helping,” Marcia said. “So do you think you could try to behave like a proper person for once?”
    â€œYou – hn hm – didn’t have to say that !” Chair Person said. His feelings were hurt. He followed them into the hall in silence.
    The hall was quite nicely decorated with bunches of balloons and full of children. Simon and Marcia knew most of the children from school. They were surprised they were underprivileged – most of them seemed just ordinary children. But the thing they looked at mostly was the long table at the other end of the room. It had a white cloth on it. Much of it was covered with food: jellies, cakes, crisps and big bottles of fizzy pop. But at one end was the pile of prizes, with the green teddy on top. The conjuring set, being quite big, was at the bottom of the pile. Simon and Marcia were glad, because that would mean it would be the last prize anybody won. They would have time to look through the box.
    Auntie Christa was in the midst of the children, trying to pin someone’s torn dress. “There you are at last!” she called to Simon and Marcia. “Where are your mother and father?”
    â€œThey couldn’t come – we’re awfully sorry!” Marcia called back.
    Auntie Christa rushed out from among the children. “Couldn’t come? Why not ?” she said.
    â€œOur house has been on fire —” Simon began to explain.
    But Auntie Christa, as usual, did not listen. “I think that’s extremely thoughtless of them!” she said. “I was counting on them to run the games. Now I shall have to run them myself.”
    While they were talking, Chair Person lumbered into the crowd of children, waving his arms importantly. “Er, hn hm, welcome to the party,” he brayed. “You are all honoured to have me here because I am – snuffle – Chair Person and you are only children who are underprivileged.”
    The children stared at him resentfully. None of them thought of themselves as underprivileged. “Why is he wearing football socks?” someone asked.
    Auntie Christa whirled round and stared at Chair Person. Her face went quite pale. “Why did you bring him ?” she said.
    â€œHe – er – he needs looking after,” Marcia said, rather guiltily.
    â€œHe just nearly burnt our house down,” Simon tried to explain again.
    But Auntie Christa did not listen. “I shall speak to your mother very crossly indeed!” she said and ran back among the children, clapping her hands. “Now listen, children. We are going to play a lovely game. Stand quiet while I explain the rules.”
    â€œEr, hn hm,” said Chair Person. “There appears to be a feast laid out over there. Would it snuffle trouble you if I started eating it?”
    At