Chapter Six

There was a slam. The kitchen door shut, and Mrs Stick could be heard telling the news triumphantly to Edgar and Mr Stick. The children went into the sitting–room, sat down and stared at one another gloomily.

‘Father’s awful!’ said George, furiously. ‘He never will listen to anything.’

‘Well, after all, he is very upset,’ said Dick, reasonably. ‘It was a great pity that he rang before nine, so that Mrs Stick got her say in first.’

‘What did Father say to you?’ said George. ‘Tell us exactly.’

‘He said that if we couldn’t put up with the Sticks, Anne and Dick and I were to go back to our own parents,’ said Julian. ‘But you were to stay here.’

George stared at Julian. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘you can’t put up with the Sticks, so you’d better all go back. I can look after myself.’

‘Don’t be an idiot!’ said Julian, giving her arm a friendly shake, ‘You know we wouldn’t desert you. I can’t say I look forward to the idea of being under the thumb of the amiable Sticks for a week or two, but there are worse things than that. We’ll “stick” it together.’

But the feeble little joke didn’t raise a smile, even from Anne. The idea of being under the Sticks’ three thumbs was a most unpleasant prospect. Timothy put his head on George’s knee. She patted him and looked round.

‘You go back home,’ she said to the others. ‘I’ve got a plan of my own, and you’re not in it. I’ve got Timmy, and he’ll look after me. Telephone to your parents and go home tomorrow.’

George stared round defiantly. Her head was up, and there was no doubt but that she had made a plan of some sort.

Julian felt uneasy.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘I tell you we all stand together in this. If you’ve got a plan, we’ll come into it. But we’re staying here with you, whatever happens.’

‘Stay if you like,’ said George, ‘but my plan goes on, and you’ll find you’ll have to go home in the end. Come on, Timothy! Let’s go to Jim and see if my boat is ready.’

‘We’ll go with you,’ said Dick. He was sorry for George. He could see below her defiance, and he knew she was very unhappy, worried about her mother, angry with her father, and upset because she felt the others were staying on because of her, when they could go back home and have a lovely time.

It was not a happy day. George was very stand–offish, and kept on insisting that the others should go back home and leave her. She grew quite angry when they were as insistent that they would not.

‘You’re spoiling my plan,’ she said at last. ‘You might go back, you really might. I tell you, you’re spoiling my plan completely.’

‘Well, what is your plan?’ said Julian impatiently. ‘I can’t help feeling you’re just pretending you’ve got a plan, so that we’ll go.’

‘I’m not pretending,’ said George, losing her temper. ‘Do I ever pretend? You know I don’t! If I say I’ve got a plan, I have got a plan. But I’m not giving it away, so it’s no good asking me. It’s my own secret, private plan.’

‘Well, I really do think you might tell us,’ said Dick, quite hurt. ‘After all, we’re your best friends, aren’t we? And we’re going to stick by you, plan or no plan—yes, even if we spoil your plan, as you say, we shall still stay here with you.’

‘I shan’t let you spoil my plan,’ said George, her eyes flashing. ‘You’re mean. You’re against me, just like the Sticks are.’

‘Oh, George, don’t,’ said Anne, almost in tears. ‘Don’t let’s quarrel. It’s bad enough quarrelling with those awful Sticks, without us quarrelling too.’

George’s temper died down as quickly as it had risen. She looked ashamed.

‘Sorry!’ she said. ‘I’m an idiot. I won’t quarrel. But I do mean what I say. I shall go on with my plan, and I shan’t tell you what it is, because if I do, it will spoil the holidays for you. Please believe me.’

‘Let’s take our dinner out with us again,’ said Julian, getting up. ‘We’ll all feel better away from this house today. I’ll go and tackle the old Stick.’

‘Dear old Ju, isn’t he brave!’ said Anne, who would rather have died than go and face Mrs Stick at that moment.

Mrs Stick proved very difficult. She felt rather victorious at the time, and was also very annoyed to find that her beautiful meat–pie and jam–tarts had disappeared. Mr Stick was in the middle of telling her where they had gone when Julian appeared.

‘How you can expect sandwiches for a picnic when you’ve stolen my meat–pie and jam–tarts, I don’t know!’ she began, indignantly. ‘You can have dry bread and jam for your picnic, and that’s all. And what’s more, I wouldn’t give you that either except that I’m glad to be rid of you.’

‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ murmured Edgar to himself. He was lying sprawled on the sofa, reading some kind of highly–coloured comic paper.

‘If you’ve anything to say to me, Edgar, come outside and say it,’ said Julian, dangerously.

‘You leave Edgar alone,’ said Mrs Stick, at once.

‘There’s nothing I should like better,’ said Julian, scornfully. ‘Who wants to be with him? Cowardly little spotty–face!’

‘Now, now, look ’ere!’ began Mr Stick, from his corner.

‘I don’t want to look at you,’ said Julian at once.

‘Now, look ’ere,’ said Mr Stick, angrily, standing up.

‘I’ve told you I don’t want to,’ said Julian. ‘You’re not a pleasant sight.’

‘Insolence!’ said Mrs Stick, rapidly losing her temper.

‘No, not insolence—just the plain truth,’ said Julian, airily. Mrs Stick glared at him. Julian defeated her. He had such a ready tongue, and he said everything so politely. The ruder his words were, the more politely he spoke. Mrs Stick didn’t understand people like Julian. She felt that they were too clever for her. She hated the boy, and banged a saucepan viciously down on the sink, wishing that it was Julian’s head under the saucepan instead of the sink.

Stinker jumped up and growled at the sudden noise.

‘Hallo, Stinker!’ said Julian. ‘Had a bath yet? Alas, no!—as smelly as ever, aren’t you?’

‘You know that dog’s name isn’t Stinker,’ said Mrs Stick, angrily. ‘You get out of my kitchen.’

‘Right!’ said Julian. ‘Pleased to go. Don’t bother about the dry bread and jam. I’ll manage something a bit better than that.’

He went out, whistling. Stinker growled, and Edgar repeated loudly what he had said before: ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!’

‘What did you say?’ said Julian, suddenly poking his head in at the kitchen door again. But Edgar did not dare to repeat it, so off went Julian again, whistling merrily, but not feeling nearly as merry as his whistle. He was worried. After all, if Mrs Stick was going to make meals as difficult as this, life was not going to be very pleasant at Kirrin Cottage.

‘Anyone feel inclined to have dry bread and jam for lunch?’ inquired Julian, when he returned to the others. ‘Not? I rather thought so, so I turned down Mrs Stick’s kind offer. I vote we go and buy something decent. That shop in the village has good sausage–rolls.’

George was very silent all that day. She was worrying about her mother, the others knew. She was probably thinking about her plan too, they thought, and wondered whatever it could be.

‘Shall we go over to Kirrin Island today?’ asked Julian, thinking that it would take George’s mind off her worries, if they went to her beloved island.

George shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t feel like it. The boat’s all ready, I know—but I just don’t feel like it. You see, till I know Mother is going to get better, I don’t feel I want to be out of reach of the house. If a telephone message came from Father, the Sticks could always send Edgar to look for me—and if I was on the island, he couldn’t find me.’

The children messed about that day, doing nothing at all. They went back to tea, and Mrs Stick provided them with bread and butter and jam, but no cake. The milk was sour too, and everyone had to have tea without milk, which they all disliked.

As they ate their tea, the children heard Edgar outside the window. He held a tin bowl in his hand, and put it down on the grass outside.

‘Your dog’s dinner,’ he yelled.

‘He looks like a dog’s dinner himself,’ said Dick, in disgust. ‘Messy creature!’

That made everyone laugh. ‘Edgar, the Dog’s Dinner!’ said Anne. ‘Any biscuits in that tin on the sideboard, do you think, George?’

George got up to see. Timothy slipped out of doors and went to the dish put down for him. He sniffed at it. George, coming back from the sideboard, looked out of the window as she passed and saw him. At once the thought of poison came back to her mind and she yelled to Timothy, making the others jump out of their skins.

‘TIM! TIM! Don’t touch it!’

Timothy wagged his tail as if to say he didn’t mean to touch it, anyway. George rushed out of doors, and picked up the mess of raw meat. She sniffed at it.

‘You haven’t touched it, have you, Timothy?’ she said, anxiously.

Dick leaned out of the window.

‘No, he didn’t eat any. I watched him. He sniffed all round and about it, but he wouldn’t touch it. I bet it’s been dosed with rat–poison or something.’

George was very white. ‘Oh Timmy!’ she said. ‘You’re such a sensible dog. You wouldn’t touch poisoned stuff, would you?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, decidedly. Stinker heard the bark and put his nose out of the kitchen door.

George called to him in a loud voice:

‘Stinker, Stinker, come here! Timmy doesn’t want his dinner. You can have it. Come along, Stinker, here it is!’

Edgar came rushing out behind Stinker. ‘Don’t you give that to him,’ he said.

‘Why not?’ asked George. ‘Go on, Edgar—tell me why not.’

‘He don’t eat raw meat,’ said Edgar, after a pause. ‘He only eats dog biscuits.’

‘That’s a lie!’ said George, flaming up. ‘I saw him eating meat yesterday. Here, Stinker—you come and eat this.’

Edgar snatched the bowl from George, almost snarling at her, and ran indoors at top speed. George was about to go after him, but Julian, who had jumped out of the window when Edgar came up, stopped her.

‘No good, old thing!’ he said. ‘You won’t get anything out of him. The meat’s probably at the back of the kitchen fire by now. From now on, we feed Timothy ourselves with meat bought from the butcher with our own money. Don’t be afraid that he’ll eat poisoned stuff. He’s too wise a dog for that.’

‘He might, if he was terribly, awfully hungry, Julian,’ said George, looking rather green now. She felt sick inside. ‘I wasn’t going to let Stinker eat that poisoned stuff, of course, but I guessed that if it was poisoned, one of the Sticks would come rushing out and stop Stinker eating it. And Edgar did. So it proves it was poisoned, doesn’t it?’

‘I rather think it does,’ said Julian. ‘But don’t worry, George. Timmy won’t be poisoned.’

‘But he might, he might,’ said George, putting her hand on the big dog’s head. ‘Oh, I can’t bear the thought of it, Julian. I can’t, I really can’t.’

‘Don’t think about it then,’ said Julian, taking her indoors again. ‘Here, have a biscuit!’

‘You don’t think the Sticks would poison us, do you?’ said Anne, looking suddenly scared and gazing at her biscuit as if it might bite her.

‘No, idiot. They only want to get Timmy out of the way because he guards us so well,’ said Julian. ‘Don’t look so scared. All this will settle down in a day or two, and we’ll have a grand time after all. You’ll see!’

But Julian only said this to comfort his little sister. Secretly he was very worried. He wished he could take Anne, Dick and George back to his own home. But he knew George wouldn’t come. And how could they leave her to the Sticks? It was quite impossible. Friends must stick together, and somehow they must face things until Aunt Fanny and Uncle Quentin came back.