Special Note from ENID BLYTON

My readers will want to know if Whispering Island is real, set in the great blue harbour in the story - and if the little cottage on the hills is there still - and the golf-course in the story - and Lucas, who tells the children about the island. Yes, the island is real, and lies in the great harbour, still full of whispering trees. The little cottage on the hills is still there, with its magnificent view and its old well - and Lucas can be found on the golf-course, nut-brown and bright-eyed, telling stories of the animals and birds he loves so much. I have taken them all and put them into this book for you - as well as the friends you know so well - The Famous Five


Chapter One
EASTER HOLIDAYS

‘The nicest word in the English language is holidays!’ said Dick, helping himself to a large spoonful of marmalade. ‘Pass the toast, Anne. Mother, do you feel down-hearted to have us all tearing about the place again?’
‘Of course not,’ said his mother. ‘The only thing that really worries me when holidays come, is Food - Food with a capital F. We never seem to have enough in the house when all three of you are back. And by the way - does anyone know what has happened to the sausages that were in the larder?’
‘Sausages - sausages - let me think!’ said Julian, frowning. Anne gave a sudden giggle. She knew quite well what had happened.
‘Well, Mother - you said we could get our own meal last night, as you were out,’ said Julian. ‘So we poked about and decided on sausages.’
‘Yes, but Julian - two whole pounds of sausages!’ said his mother. ‘I know Georgina came over to spend the evening - but even so... !’
‘She brought Timmy,’ said Anne. ‘He rather likes sausages too, Mother.’
‘Well, that’s the last time I leave the larder door unlocked, when I go out!’ said her mother. ‘Fancy cooking those lovely pork sausages for a dog - especially Timmy, with his enormous appetite! Really, Anne! I meant to have them for our lunch today.’
‘Well - we rather thought we’d go and spend the day at Kirrin, with George and Timmy,’ said Dick. ‘That’s if you don’t want us for anything, Mother.’
‘I do want you,’ said his mother. ‘Mrs Layman is coming to tea, and she said she wants to see you about something.’
The three groaned, and Dick protested at once. ‘Oh Mother - the first day of the holidays - and we have to be in to tea! It’s too bad - a glorious spring day like this too!’
‘Oh - we’ll be in to tea all right,’ said Julian, giving Dick a sharp little kick under the table, as he saw his mother’s disappointed face. ‘Mrs Layman’s a nice old thing - she was always giving us little treats when we were little.’
‘And she never forgets our birthdays,’ said Anne. ‘Do you think we could ask George over too - with Timmy? George will be awfully disappointed if we aren’t with her the first day of the hols.’
‘Yes, of course you can,’ said her mother. ‘Go and ring her up now, and arrange it. And don’t forget to put our old Tibby-cat into the shed, with a saucer of milk. She’s scared stiff of Timmy - he’s so enormous. And please, all of you, TRY to look clean at tea-time.’
‘I’ll see to Dick and Anne,’ said Julian, with a grin. ‘I must remember to find their overalls!’
‘I’m going to phone George now, this very minute,’ said Anne, getting up from the table. ‘Do you mind, Mother? I’ve finished - and I’d like to catch George before she takes Tim for a walk, or does some shopping for Aunt Fanny.’
‘Uncle Quentin will be glad to be rid of George even for a meal,’ said Dick. ‘He fell over her lacrosse stick yesterday, and wanted to know why she left her fishing net about! George didn’t know what he was talking about!’
‘Poor old Georgina,’ said his mother. ‘It’s a pity that both she and her father have exactly the same hot tempers. Her mother must find it dificult to keep the peace! Ah - here’s Anne back again. Did you get George on the phone, dear?’
‘Yes. She’s thrilled,’ said Anne. ‘She says it’s just as well we’re not going to spend the day with her, because Uncle Quentin has lost some papers he was working on, and he’s turning the house upside down. George said she will probably be mad as a hatter by the time she arrives this afternoon! Uncle Quentin even made Aunt Fanny turn out her knitting bag to see if the papers were there!’
‘Dear old Quentin,’ said her mother. ‘Such a truly brilliant scientist - remembers every book he’s ever read - every paper he’s ever written - and has the finest brain I know - and yet loses some valuable paper or other almost every week!’
‘He loses something else every day of the week too,’ said Dick, with a grin. ‘His temper! Poor old George - she’s always in some sort of trouble!’
‘Well, anyway, she’s jolly glad to be coming over here!’ said Anne. ‘She’s biking over, with Timmy. She’ll be here for lunch. Is that all right, Mother?’
‘Of course!’ said her mother. ‘Now - seeing that you had today’s dinner for last night’s supper, you’d better do a little shopping for me. What shall we have?’
‘SAUSAGES!’ said everyone, at once.
‘I should have thought you were quite literally fed up with sausages, after last night’s feast,’ said their mother, laughing. ‘All right - sausages. But Timmy can have a bone - a nice meaty bone. I am NOT going to buy any more sausages for him, that’s quite certain.’
‘And shall we get some nice cakes for tea as Mrs Layman is coming?’ said Anne. ‘Or are you going to make some, Mother?’
‘I’ll make a few buns,’ said her mother. ‘And you can choose whatever else you like - so long as you don’t buy up the shop!’
The three went off shopping, cycling along the lane to the village. It was a truly lovely spring day. The celandines were golden in the ditches, and daisies were scattered everywhere. Dick burst into song as they went, and the cows in the nearby fields lifted their heads in surprise, as Dick’s loud voice swept round them.
Anne laughed. It was good to be with her brothers again She missed them very much when she was at school. And now - they would have almost a whole month together - with their cousin George too. She was suddenly overwhelmed with joy, and lifted up her voice and joined Dick in his singing. Her brothers looked at her with affection and amusement.
‘Good old Anne,’ said Dick. ‘You’re such a quiet little mouse, it’s nice to hear you singing so loudly.’
‘I am NOT a quiet little mouse!’ said Anne, surprised and rather hurt. ‘Whatever makes you say that? You just wait - you may get a surprise one day!’
‘Yes - we may!’ said Julian. ‘But I doubt it. A mouse can’t suddenly turn into a tiger! Anyway, one tiger’s enough. George is the tiger of our family - my word, she can put out her claws all right - and roar - and ramp and rave!’
Everyone laughed at the picture of George as a tiger. Dick wobbled as he laughed and his front wheel touched Anne’s back wheel. She turned round fiercely.
‘LOOK OUT, IDIOT! You nearly had me over! Can’t you see where you’re going? Be sensible, can’t you?’
‘Hey, Anne - whatever’s the matter?’ said Julian, amazed to hear his gentle little sister lashing out so suddenly.
Anne laughed. ‘It’s all right. I was just being a tiger for a moment - putting out my claws! I thought Dick and you might like to see them!’
‘Well, well!’ said Dick, riding beside her, ‘I’ve never heard you yell like that before. Surprising - but quite pleasing! What about you showing old George your claws sometime when she gets out of hand?’
‘Stop teasing,’ said Anne. ‘Here’s the butcher’s. For goodness sake go and get the sausages and be sensible. I’ll go and buy the cakes.’
The baker’s shop was full of new-made buns and cakes, and smelt deliciously of home-made bread. Anne enjoyed herself choosing a vast selection. ‘After all,’ she thought, ‘there will be eight of us - counting Timmy - and if we’re all hungry, cakes soon disappear.’
The boys were very pleased to see all the paper bags.
‘Looks like a good tea today,’ said Dick. ‘I hope the old lady - what’s her name now - Layman - who’s coming to tea today, has a good appetite. I wonder what she’s going to tell us about.’
‘Did you buy a nice meaty bone for Timmy?’ asked Anne. ‘He’ll like that for his tea.’
‘We bought such a beauty that I’m pretty sure Mother will say it’s good enough to make soup from,’ said Dick, with a grin. ‘So I’ll keep it in my saddlebag till he comes. Dear old Tim. He deserves a jolly good bone. Best dog I ever knew!’
‘He’s been on a lot of adventures with us,’ said Anne, bicycling beside the boys, as the road was empty. ‘And he seemed to enjoy them all.’
‘Yes. So did we!’ said Dick. ‘Well - who knows? An adventure may be lying in wait for us these hols too! I seem to smell one in the air!’
‘You don’t!’ said Anne. ‘You’re just making that up. I’d like a bit of peace after a hectic term at school. I worked jolly hard this last term.’
‘Well - you were top of your form, and captain of Games - so you deserve to have the kind of holiday you like,’ said Julian, proud of his young sister. ‘And so you shall! Adventures are OUT! Do you hear that, Dick? We keep absolutely clear of them. So that’s that!’
‘Is it, Ju?’ said Anne, laughing. ‘Well - we’ll see!’


Chapter Two
A VISITOR TO TEA

George and Timmy were waiting for Julian, Dick and Anne, when they arrived home. Timmy was standing in the road, ears pricked, long tail waving. He went quite mad when he saw their bicycles rounding the corner, and galloped towards them at top speed, barking madly, much to the horror of a baker’s boy with a large basket.
The boy disappeared into the nearest garden at top speed, yelling ‘Mad dog, mad dog!’ Timmy tore past, and forced the three to dismount, for they were afraid of knocking him over.
‘Dear Timmy!’ said Anne, patting the excited dog. ‘Do put your tongue in - I’m sure it will fall out some day!’
Timmy ran to each of them in turn, woofing in delight, licking everyone, and altogether behaving as if he hadn’t seen them for a year!
‘Now that’s enough, old boy,’ said Dick, pushing him away, and trying to mount his bicycle once more. ‘After all, we did see you yesterday. Where’s George?’
George had heard Timmy barking, and had now run out into the road too. The three cycled up to her, and she grinned happily at them.
‘Hallo! You’ve been shopping, I see. Shut up barking, Timmy, you talk too much. Sorry you couldn’t come over to Kirrin Cottage - but I’m jolly glad you asked me to come to you - my father still hasn’t found the papers he’s lost, and honestly our place is like a mad-house - cupboards being turned out - even the kitchen store-cupboard! and I left poor Mother up in the loft, looking there - though why Father should think they might be there, I don’t know!’
‘Poor old George - I can just see your father tearing his hair, and shouting - and all the time he’s probably put the papers into the waste-paper basket by mistake!’ said Dick, with a chuckle.
‘Gracious - we never thought of that!’ said George. ‘I’d better phone Mother at once, and tell her to look. Bright idea of yours, Dick.’
‘Well, you go and phone, and we’ll put our bikes away,’ said Julian. ‘Take your nose away from that bag of sausages, Timmy. You’re in disgrace over sausages, let me tell you. You’re suspected of eating too many last night!’
‘He did eat rather a lot,’ said George. ‘I took my eye off him, and he wolfed quite a few. I say, who’s this Mrs Layman who’s coming to tea? Have we got to stay in and have tea with her? I hoped we might be going off for a picnic this afternoon.’
‘Nothing doing, old thing,’ said Dick, ‘Mrs Layman is apparently coming to talk to us about something. So we have to be in - with clean hands, nice manners, and everything. So behave yourself, George!’
George gave him a friendly punch. ‘That’s unfair,’ said Dick. ‘You know I can’t punch you back. My word, you should have seen Anne this morning, George - yelled at me like a tiger howling, and showed her teeth, and...’
‘Don’t be an idiot, Dick,’ said Anne. ‘He called me a mouse, George - he said we’d one tiger - you - and that was enough in the family. So I went for him - put out my claws for a moment, and gave him such a surprise. I rather liked it!’
‘Good old Anne!’ said George, amused. ‘But you’re not really cut out to be a tiger, and rage and roar, you know.’
‘I could be, if I had to,’ said Anne, obstinately. ‘One of these days I’ll surprise you all. You just wait!’
‘All right. We will,’ said Julian, putting his arm round his sister. ‘Come on, now - we’d better get indoors before Timmy gets some of the cakes out of the bags. Stop licking that bag, Tim - you’ll make a hole in it.’
‘He can smell the cherry buns inside,’ said Anne. ‘Shall I give him one?’
‘NO!’ said Julian. ‘Cherry buns are wasted on him, you know that. Don’t you remember how he chews the bun part and spits out the cherries?’
‘Woof,’ said Timmy, exactly as if he agreed. He went to sniff at the bag with his bone inside.
'That’s your dinner, Tim,’ said Anne. ‘Plenty of meat on it, too. Look there’s Mother at the window, beckoning. I expect she wants the sausages. NO, Timmy - the sausages are NOT for you. Get down! Good gracious, I never in my life knew such a hungry dog. Anybody would think you starved him, George.’
‘Well, they’d think wrong, then,’ said George. ‘Timmy, come to heel.’
Timmy came, still looking round longingly at the various bags that the others were now taking from their saddle-bags.
They all went indoors, and deposited the goods on the kitchen table. The cook opened the bags and looked inside, keeping a sharp eye on Timmy.
‘Better take that dog of yours out of my kitchen,’ she said. ‘Funny how sausages always disappear when he’s around. Get down, now - take your paws off my clean table!’
Timmy trotted out of the kitchen. He thought it was a pity that cooks didn’t like him. He liked them very much indeed - they always smelt so deliciously of cooking, and there were always so many titbits around which he longed for, but was seldom offered. Ah well - he’d trot into the kitchen again when Cookie had gone upstairs for something! He might perhaps find a few bits and pieces on the floor then!
‘Hallo, Georgina dear!’ said her aunt, coming into the kitchen, Timmy following her in delight. ‘Timmy, go out of the kitchen. I don’t trust you within a mile of sausages. Go on - shoo!’
Timmy ‘shooed’. He liked Anne’s mother, but knew that when she said ‘Shoo!’ she meant it. He lay down on a rug in the living-room, with a heavy sigh, wondering how long it would be before he had that lovely meaty bone. He put his head on his paws, and kept his ears pricked for George. He thought it most unfair that George shouldn’t be shooed out of the kitchen too.
‘Now for goodness sake, keep out of my way while I cook the lunch,’ said Cook, to the children milling round her kitchen. ‘And shut the door, please. I don’t want that great hungry dog sniffing round me all the time, making out he’s starving, when he’s as fat as butter!’
‘He’s NOT!’ said George, indignantly. ‘Timmy has never been fat in his life. He’s not that kind of dog. He’s never greedy!’
‘Well, he must be the first dog ever born that wasn’t greedy,’ said Cookie. ‘Can’t trust any of them! There was that pug-dog of Mrs Lane’s - crunched up lumps of sugar whenever it could reach a sugar-bowl - and that fat poodle next door - came and knocked over the cream that the milkman left outside the back door - deliberated knocked it over, mark you - and then licked up every drop. Ha - his mistress tried to make out he didn’t like cream - but you should have seen his nose - covered in cream up to his eyes!’
Timmy looked in at the kitchen door, his nose in the air, for all the world as if he were deeply offended at Cookie’s remarks. Julian laughed. ‘You’ve wounded his pride, Cookie!’ he said.
‘I’ll wound him somewhere else, too, if he comes sniffing round me when I’m cooking,’ said Cookie. That made George give one of her scowls, but the others couldn’t help laughing!
The morning went very pleasantly. The five went down to the beach, and walked round the high cliffs, enjoying the stiff breeze that blew in their faces. Timmy raced after every seagull that dared to sit on the smooth sand, annoyed that each one rose up lazily on great wings, as soon as he almost reached it.
They were all hungry for their dinner, and not one single morsel was left when they had finished! Cookie had made a tremendous steamed pudding, with lashings of treacle, which was, as usual, a huge success.
‘Wish I had a tongue like Timmy’s and could lick up the lovely treacle left on the bottom of the dish,’ said George. ‘Such a waste!’
‘You certainly won’t be able to eat any tea, I’m sure of that!’ said her aunt. But, of course, she was wrong. When teatime came, they all felt quite ready for it, and were most impatient when Mrs Layman was late!
The tea looked lovely, laid on a big table, over a white lace cloth. The children sat and looked at it longingly. When would Mrs Layman arrive?
‘I begin to feel I’m not going to like Mrs Layman,’ said George, at last. ‘I can’t bear looking at those cream cakes when I’m hungry.’
The front door bell rang. Hurrah! Then in came a cheerful, smiling old lady, nodding to everyone, very pleased to see such a nice little party waiting for her.
‘This is Mrs Layman, children,’ said Julian’s mother. ‘Sit down, Mrs Layman. We’re delighted to have you.’
‘Well, I’ve come to ask the children something,’ said Mrs Layman. ‘But we’ll have tea first, and then I’ll say what I’ve come to say. My, my - what a wonderful tea! I’m glad I feel hungry!’
Everyone else was hungry too, and soon the bread and butter, the sandwiches, the buns, the cakes and everything else disappeared. Timmy sat quietly by George, who slipped him a titbit now and again, when no one was looking. Mrs Layman chatted away. She was a most interesting person, and the children liked her very much.
‘Well now,’ she said, when tea was finished, ‘I’m sure you must be wanting to know why I asked to come to tea today. I wanted to ask your mother, Julian, if there was any chance of you three - and this other boy here - what’s his name - George? would you like to help me out of a difficulty.’
Nobody pointed out that George was a girl, not a boy, and that George was short for Georgina. George, as usual, was pleased to be taken for a boy. They all looked at Mrs Layman, listening to her with interest.
‘It’s like this,’ she said. ‘I’ve a dear little house up on the hills, overlooking the harbour - and I’ve a grandson staying with me there - Wilfrid. Well, I have to go to look after a cousin of mine, who’s ill - and Wilfrid can’t bear to be left alone. I just wondered if your mother would allow you children to share the little house with Wilfrid - and well - keep him company. He feels a bit scary being on his own. I’ve a good woman there, who comes in to cook and clean - but poor Wilfrid’s really scared of being in such a lonely place, high up on the hill.’
‘You mean that lovely little house with the wonderful view?’ said Julian’s mother.
‘Yes. It’s rather primitive in some ways - no water laid on, only just a well to use - and no electricity or gas - just candles, or an oil lamp. Maybe it sounds too old-fashioned for words - but honestly the view makes up for it! Perhaps the children would like to come over and see it, before they decide?’ Mrs Layman looked earnestly round at everyone, and nobody knew quite what to say.
‘Well - we’ll certainly come and see it,’ said Julian’s mother. ‘And if the children feel like it, well, they can stay there. They do like being on their own, of course.’
‘Yes,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll come and see it, Mrs Layman. Mother’s going to be busy with a bazaar soon - she’ll be glad to get us out of the way - and, of course, we do like being on our own!’
Mrs Layman looked extremely pleased. ‘Tomorrow, then?’ she said. ‘About ten o’clock. You’ll love the view. Wonderful, wonderful! You can see right over the great harbour, and for miles around. Well - I must be going now. I’ll tell Wilfrid you children may be keeping him company. He’s such a nice lad - so helpful. You’ll love him.’
Julian had his doubts about the nice helpful Wilfrid. He even wondered if Mrs Layman wanted to get away from Wilfrid, and leave him to himself! No - that was too silly. Anyway, they’d soon see what the place was like, tomorrow.
‘It would be fun to be on our own again,’ said George, when Mrs Layman had gone. ‘I don’t expect this Wilfrid would be any bother. He’s probably just a silly kid, scared of being left alone - though apparently there is a woman there! Well - we’ll go tomorrow! Maybe the view will make up for dear Wilfrid!’


Chapter Three

THE COTTAGE ON THE HILL - AND WILFRID

Next day the children prepared to go and see the cottage belonging to Mrs Layman. ‘You coming too, Mother?’ asked Julian. ‘We’d like your advice!’
‘Well no, dear,’ said his mother. ‘I’ve rather a lot to do - there’s a meeting on at the Village Hall, and I promised to go to it.’
‘You’re full of good works, Mother,’ said Julian, giving her a hug. ‘All right, we’ll go by ourselves. I daresay we shall know at once whether we’d like to stay in the cottage - or not. Also, we MUST know what this Wilfrid is like! It’s a quarter to ten, and George is already here, with Timmy. I’ll call the others and we’ll get our bikes.’
Soon the four were on their bicycles, with Timmy, as usual, running alongside, his long tongue out, his eyes bright and happy. This was Timmy’s idea of perfect happiness - to be with the four children all day long!
They went along a road that ran on the top of a hill. They swung round a corner - and there, spread far below them, was a great sea-vista that included a wonderful harbour, filled with big and little ships. The sea was as blue as the Mediterranean, quite breathtaking. Anne jumped off her bicycle at once.
‘I must just feast my eyes on all this before I go a yard further!’ she said. ‘What a panorama! What miles of sea and sky!’
She put her bicycle against a gate and then climbed over and stood by herself, gazing down at the view. Dick joined her.
Then suddenly a voice shouted loudly ‘FORE! FORE!’ A small white thing came whizzing through the air and landed just by Anne’s foot. She jumped in surprise.
‘It’s a golf-ball,’ said Dick. ‘No, don’t pick it up. Whoever’s playing with it, has to come and hit it from exactly where it fell. Good thing you weren’t hit, Anne. I didn’t realize that this gate led on to a golf-course!’
‘We ought to have a walk over it,’ said Anne. ‘Just look at those gorse bushes over there, absolutely flaming with yellow blossom - and all the tiny flowers springing up everywhere - speedwell and coltsfoot and daisies and celandines - beautiful. And oh - what a view!’
‘Yes - and if Mrs Layman’s cottage has a view anything like this, I’d certainly like to stay there!’ said Dick. ‘Think of getting out of bed in the morning and seeing this enormous view out of the window - the harbour - the sea beyond - the hills all round - the great spread of sky...’
‘You ought to be a poet, Dick!’ said Anne, in surprise. The golfers came up at that moment, and the children stood aside and watched one of them address the ball, and then strike it easily and strongly. The ball soared through the air, and landed far away on a smooth green fairway.
‘Good shot!’ said the man’s partner, and the two sauntered off together.
‘Funny game, really,’ said Anne. ‘Just hitting a ball all round the course.’
‘Wish I had some clubs!’ said Dick. ‘I’m sure I could hit some smashing shots!’
‘Well, if that cottage is anywhere near the golf-course, perhaps you could pay to have a lesson,’ said Anne. ‘I bet you could hit a ball as far as that man!’
The others were now yelling for them to come back, so they went to fetch their bicycles. Soon they were all riding along the road again. ‘We have to look for a small white gate, with “Hill Cottage” painted on it,’ said George. ‘On the hillside facing the sea.’
‘There it is!’ cried Anne. ‘We’ll pile our bicycles together against the hedge, and go in at the gate.’
They left their bicycles in a heap and went through the gate. Not far to their left stood a funny old cottage, its back to them, its front looking down the steep hill that ran towards the great harbour and the sea beyond.
‘It’s like a cottage out of an old fairy-tale,’ said Anne. ‘Funny little chimneys - rather crooked walls - a thatched roof, all uneven - and what tiny windows!’
They walked down a little winding path that led to the cottage. They soon came to a well, and leaned over it to see the water deep down. ‘So that’s the water we’d have to drink!’ said Anne, wrinkling up her nose. ‘And we’d have to let down the bucket by winding this handle - and down it would go on the rope! Do you suppose the water is pure?’
‘Well, seeing that people must have drunk it for years on end - the ones living in that cottage, anyway - I should imagine it’s all right!’ said Julian. ‘Come on - let’s find the front door of the cottage - if it has one!’
It had one wooden door, hung rather crooked, with an old brass knocker. It faced down the hill, and was flanked on each side by small windows. Two other small windows were above. Julian looked at them. The bedrooms would be very small, he thought - would there really be room for them all?
He knocked at the door. Nobody came to open it. He knocked again, and then looked for a bell, but there wasn’t one.
‘See if the door is unlocked,’ said Anne. So Julian turned the handle - and at once the door gave under his hand! It opened straight into a room that looked like a kitchen-living-room.
Julian gave a shout. ‘Anyone at home?’
There was no answer. ‘Well - as this is obviously the cottage we were meant to see, we’d better go in,’ said Julian and in they all went.
It was old, very old. The carved wooden furniture was old too. Ancient oil lamps stood on two tables in the room, and in a recess there was an oilstove with a saucepan on top. A narrow, crooked stairway made of wood curved up to the floor above. Julian went up, and found himself in a long, darkish room, its roof thatched with reed and held up by black beams.
‘This place must be hundreds of years old!’ he called down to the others. ‘I don’t think it’s big enough for us four and the others too - the cook and that boy called Wilfrid.’
Just as he finished calling down the stairs, the front door was flung open and someone came in.
‘What are you doing here?’ he shouted. ‘This is my cottage!’
Julian went quickly down the stairs, and there, facing them all, stood a boy of about ten, a scowl on his brown face.
‘Er - are you Wilfrid, by any chance?’ asked Dick, politely.
‘Yes, I am. And who are you? And where’s my aunt? She’ll soon chuck you out!’ said the boy.
‘Is your aunt Mrs Layman?’ asked Julian. ‘If so, she asked us to come and see her cottage, and decide if we’d like to keep you company. She said she had to go away and look after a sick friend.’
‘Well, I don’t want you!’ said the boy. ‘So clear off. I’m all right here alone. My aunt’s a nuisance, always fussing round.’
‘I thought there was a cook too,’ said Julian. ‘Where is she?’
‘She only comes in the morning, and I sent her off,’ said Wilfrid. ‘She left me some food. I want to be alone. I don’t want you. So clear off’
‘Don’t be a fathead, Wilfrid,’ said Julian. ‘You can’t live all alone here. You’re just a kid.’
‘I shan’t be living all alone. I’ve plenty of friends,’ said Wilfrid, defiantly.
‘You CAN’T have plenty of friends here in this lonely place, with only the hills and sky around you,’ said Dick.
‘Well, I have!’ said Wilfrid. ‘And here’s one - so look out!’ And, to the horror of the two girls, he put his hand into his pocket, and brought out a snake!
Anne screamed, and tried to hide behind Julian. Wilfrid saw her fright and came towards her, holding the snake by its middle, so that it swayed to and fro, its bright little eyes gleaming.
‘Don’t be scared, Anne,’ said Julian. ‘It’s only a harmless grass-snake. Put the creature back into your pocket, Wilfrid, and don’t play the fool. If that snake is the only friend you have, you’ll be pretty lonely here by yourself!’
‘I’ve plenty of friends, I tell you!’ shouted Wilfrid, stuffing the snake back into his pocket. ‘I’ll hit you if you don’t believe me.’
‘Oh no, you won’t,’ said Dick. ‘Just show us your other friends. If they’re kids like you, it’s just too bad!’
‘Kids? I don’t make friends with kids!’ said Wilfrid, scornfully. ‘I’ll show you I’m speaking the truth. Come out here on the hillside, and see some of my other friends.’
They all trooped out of the little cottage, on to the hillside, amazed at this fierce, strange boy. When they were in the open, they saw that he had eyes as bright blue as the speedwell in the grass, and hair almost as yellow as the celandines.
‘Sit down and keep quiet,’ he ordered. ‘Over there, by that bush. And don’t move a finger. I’ll soon make you believe in my friends! How dare you come here, doubting my word!’
They all sat down obediently beside the gorse-bush, puzzled and rather amused. The boy sat down too, and drew something out of his pocket. What was it? George tried to see, but it was half-hidden in his right hand.
He put it to his mouth, and began to whistle. It was a soft, weird whistle that grew loud and then died away again. There was no tune, no melody, just a kind of beautiful dirge that pulled at the heart. Sad, thought Anne, such a sad little tune - if you could call it a tune!
Something stirred a little way down the hill - and then, to everyone’s astonishment, an animal appeared - a hare! Its great ears stood upright, its big eyes stared straight at the boy with the curious little pipe. Then the hare lollopped right up to Wilfrid - and began to dance! Soon another came, but this one only watched. The first one then seemed to go mad, and leapt about wildly, utterly unafraid.
The tune changed a little - and a rabbit appeared! Then another and another. One came to Wilfrid’s feet and sniffed at them, its whiskers quivering. Then it lay down against the boy’s foot.
A bird fiew down - a beautiful magpie! It stood nearby, watching the hare, fascinated. It took no notice of the children at all. They all held their breath, amazed and delighted.
And then Timmy gave a little growl, deep down in his throat. He didn’t really mean to, but he just couldn’t help it! At once the hares, the rabbits and the magpie fled, the magpie squawking in fright.
Wilfrid faced round at once, his eyes blazing. He lifted his hand to strike Timmy - but George caught his fist at once.
‘Let go!’ yelled Wilfrid. ‘That dog scared my friends! I’ll get a stick and whip him. He’s the worst dog in the world, he’s...’
And then something strange happened. Timmy came gently over to Wilfrid, lay down, and put his head on the angry boy’s knee, looking up at him lovingly. The boy, his hand still raised to strike, lowered it, and fondled Timmy’s head, making a curious crooning noise.
‘Timmy! Come here!’ ordered George, amazed and angry. To think that her dog, her very own dog, should go to a boy who had been about to strike him!
Timmy stood up, gave Wilfrid a lick, and went to George.
The boy watched him, and then spoke to them all. ‘You can come and stay in my cottage,’ he said, ‘if you’ll bring that dog too. There aren’t many dogs like him - he’s a wonderful dog. I’d like him for one of my friends.’
Then, without another word, Wilfrid sprang up and ran away down the hill, leaving four most astonished people - and a dog who whined dismally because the boy had gone. Well, well, Timmy - there must indeed by something about that boy, if you stand looking after him as if you had lost one of your very best friends!