Текст книги "The Classic Tales. Volume II"

Автор книги: Beatrix Potter

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“With pleasure, my dear Duchess; how beautifully you beg! Oh, how sweetly pretty!”

Duchess sat up with the sugar on her nose and sniffed —

“How good that pie smells! I do love veal and ham – I mean to say mouse and bacon —”

She dropped the sugar in confusion, and had to go hunting under the tea-table, so she did not see which oven Ribby opened in order to get out the pie.

Ribby set the pie upon the table; there was a very savoury smell.

Duchess came out from under the tablecloth munching sugar, and sat up on a chair.

“I will first cut the pie for you; I am going to have muffin and marmalade,” said Ribby.

“Do you really prefer muffin? Mind the patty-pan!”

“I beg your pardon?” said Ribby.

“May I pass you the marmalade?” said Duchess hurriedly.

The pie proved extremely toothsome, and the muffins light and hot. They disappeared rapidly, especially the pie!

“I think” – (thought the Duchess to herself) – “I think it would be wiser if I helped myself to pie; though Ribby did not seem to notice anything when she was cutting it. What very small fine pieces it has cooked into! I did not remember that I had minced it up so fine; I suppose this is a quicker oven than my own.”

“How fast Duchess is eating!” thought Ribby to herself, as she buttered her fifth muffin.

The pie-dish was emptying rapidly! Duchess had had four helps already, and was fumbling with the spoon.

“A little more bacon, my dear Duchess?” said Ribby.

WHERE IS THE PATTY-PAN?

“Thank you, my dear Ribby; I was only feeling for the patty-pan.”

“The patty-pan? my dear Duchess?”

“The patty-pan that held up the pie-crust,” said Duchess, blushing under her black coat.

“Oh, I didn’t put one in, my dear Duchess,” said Ribby; “I don’t think that it is necessary in pies made of mouse.”

Duchess fumbled with the spoon – “I can’t find it!” she said anxiously.

“There isn’t a patty-pan,” said Ribby, looking perplexed.

“Yes, indeed, my dear Ribby; where can it have gone to?” said Duchess.

“There most certainly is not one, my dear Duchess. I disapprove of tin articles in puddings and pies. It is most undesirable – (especially when people swallow in lumps!)” she added in a lower voice.

Duchess looked very much alarmed, and continued to scoop the inside of the pie-dish.

“My Great-aunt Squintina (grand-mother of Cousin Tabitha Twitchit) – died of a thimble in a Christmas plum-pudding. I never put any article of metal in my puddings or pies.”

Duchess looked aghast, and tilted up the pie-dish.

“I have only four patty-pans, and they are all in the cupboard.”

Duchess set up a howl.

“I shall die! I shall die! I have swallowed a patty-pan! Oh, my dear Ribby, I do feel so ill!”

“It is impossible, my dear Duchess; there was not a patty-pan.”

Duchess moaned and whined and rocked herself about.

“Oh I feel so dreadful, I have swallowed a patty-pan!”

“There was nothing in the pie,” said Ribby severely.

“Yes there was, my dear Ribby, I am sure I have swallowed it!”

“Let me prop you up with a pillow, my dear Duchess; where do you think you feel it?”

“Oh I do feel so ill all over me, my dear Ribby; I have swallowed a large tin patty-pan with a sharp scalloped edge!”

“Shall I run for the doctor? I will just lock up the spoons!”

“Oh yes, yes! fetch Dr. Maggotty, my dear Ribby; he is a Pie himself, he will certainly understand.”

Ribby settled Duchess in an armchair before the fire, and went out and hurried to the village to look for the doctor.

DR. MAGGOTTY’S MIXTURE

She found him at the smithy.

He was occupied in putting rusty nails into a bottle of ink, which he had obtained at the post office.

“Gammon? ha! HA!” said he, with his head on one side.

Ribby explained that her guest had swallowed a patty-pan.

“Spinach? ha! HA!” said he, and accompanied her with alacrity.

He hopped so fast that Ribby had to run. It was most conspicuous. All the village could see that Ribby was fetching the doctor.

“I knew they would over-eat themselves!” said Cousin Tabitha Twitchit.

But while Ribby had been hunting for the doctor – a curious thing had happened to Duchess, who had been left by herself, sitting before the fire, sighing and groaning and feeling very unhappy.

“How could I have swallowed it! such a large thing as a patty-pan!”

She got up and went to the table, and felt inside the pie-dish again with a spoon.

“No; there is no patty-pan, and I put one in; and nobody has eaten pie except me, so I must have swallowed it!”

She sat down again, and stared mournfully at the grate. The fire crackled and danced, and something sizz-z-zled!

Duchess started! She opened the door of the top oven; out came a rich steamy flavour of veal and ham, and there stood a fine brown pie – and through a hole in the top of the pie-crust there was a glimpse of a little tin patty-pan!

Duchess drew a long breath —

“Then I must have been eating MOUSE!… No wonder I feel ill… But perhaps I should feel worse if I had really swallowed a patty-pan!” Duchess reflected – “What a very awkward thing to have to explain to Ribby! I think I will put my pie in the back-yard and say nothing about it. When I go home, I will run round and take it away.”

She put it outside the back door, and sat down again by the fire, and shut her eyes; when Ribby arrived with the doctor, she seemed fast asleep.

“Gammon, ha, HA?” said the doctor.

“I am feeling very much better,” said Duchess, waking up with a jump.

“I am truly glad to hear it! He has brought you a pill, my dear Duchess!”

“I think I should feel quite well if he only felt my pulse,” said Duchess, backing away from the magpie, who sidled up with something in his beak.

“It is only a bread-pill, you had much better take it; drink a little milk, my dear Duchess!”

“Gammon? Gammon?” said the doctor, while Duchess coughed and choked.

“Don’t say that again!” said Ribby, losing her temper – “Here, take this bread and jam, and get out into the yard!”

“Gammon and Spinach! ha ha HA!” shouted Dr. Maggotty triumphantly outside the back door…

“I am feeling very much better, my dear Ribby,” said Duchess. “Do you not think that I had better go home before it gets dark?”

“Perhaps it might be wise, my dear Duchess. I will lend you a nice warm shawl, and you shall take my arm.”

“I would not trouble you for worlds; I feel wonderfully better. One pill of Dr. Maggotty —”

“Indeed it is most admirable, if it has cured you of a patty-pan! I will call directly after breakfast to ask how you have slept.”

Ribby and Duchess said goodbye affectionately, and Duchess started home. Half-way up the lane she stopped and looked back; Ribby had gone in and shut her door. Duchess slipped through the fence, and ran round to the back of Ribby’s house and peeped into the yard.

Upon the roof of the pig-stye sat Dr. Maggotty and three jackdaws. The jackdaws were eating pie-crust, and the magpie was drinking gravy out of a patty-pan.

“Gammon, ha, HA!” he shouted when he saw Duchess’s little black nose peeping round the corner.

Duchess ran home feeling uncommonly silly!

SO THERE REALLY WAS A PATTY-PAN

When Ribby came out for a pailful of water to wash up the tea-things, she found a pink and white pie-dish lying smashed in the middle of the yard. The patty-pan was under the pump, where Dr. Maggotty had considerately left it.

Ribby stared with amazement – “Did you ever see the like! so there really was a patty-pan?… But my patty-pans are all in the kitchen cupboard. Well I never did!… Next time I want to give a party – I will invite Cousin Tabitha Twitchit!”

The End

FOR STEPHANIE

FROM COUSIN B.



The Tale of

Mr. Jeremy Fisher



( 1906 )

Once upon a time there was a frog called Mr. Jeremy Fisher; he lived in a little damp house amongst the buttercups at the edge of a pond.

The water was all slippy-sloppy in the larder and in the back passage.

But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet; nobody ever scolded him, and he never caught a cold!

He was quite pleased when he looked out and saw large drops of rain, splashing in the pond —

“I will get some worms and go fishing and catch a dish of minnows for my dinner,” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher. “If I catch more than five fish, I will invite my friends Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise and Sir Isaac Newton. The Alderman, however, eats salad.”

Mr. Jeremy put on a macintosh, and a pair of shiny goloshes; he took his rod and basket, and set off with enormous hops to the place where he kept his boat.

The boat was round and green, and very like the other lily-leaves. It was tied to a water-plant in the middle of the pond.

Mr. Jeremy took a reed pole, and pushed the boat out into open water. “I know a good place for minnows,” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

Mr. Jeremy stuck his pole into the mud and fastened the boat to it.

Then he settled himself cross-legged and arranged his fishing tackle. He had the dearest little red float. His rod was a tough stalk of grass, his line was a fine long white horse-hair, and he tied a little wriggling worm at the end.

The rain trickled down his back, and for nearly an hour he stared at the float.

“This is getting tiresome, I think I should like some lunch,” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

He punted back again amongst the water-plants, and took some lunch out of his basket.

“I will eat a butterfly sandwich, and wait till the shower is over,” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

A great big water-beetle came up underneath the lily leaf and tweaked the toe of one of his goloshes.

Mr. Jeremy crossed his legs up shorter, out of reach, and went on eating his sandwich.

Once or twice something moved about with a rustle and a splash amongst the rushes at the side of the pond.

“I trust that is not a rat,” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher; “I think I had better get away from here.”

Mr. Jeremy shoved the boat out again a little way, and dropped in the bait. There was a bite almost directly; the float gave a tremendous bobbit!

“A minnow! a minnow! I have him by the nose!” cried Mr. Jeremy Fisher, jerking up his rod.

But what a horrible surprise! Instead of a smooth fat minnow, Mr. Jeremy landed little Jack Sharp the stickleback, covered with spines!

The stickleback floundered about the boat, pricking and snapping until he was quite out of breath. Then he jumped back into the water.

And a shoal of other little fishes put their heads out, and laughed at Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

And while Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the edge of his boat – sucking his sore fingers and peering down into the water – a much worse thing happened; a really frightful thing it would have been, if Mr. Jeremy had not been wearing a macintosh!

A great big enormous trout came up – ker-pflop-p-p-p! with a splash – and it seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” – and then it turned and dived down to the bottom of the pond!

But the trout was so displeased with the taste of the macintosh, that in less than half a minute it spat him out again; and the only thing it swallowed was Mr. Jeremy’s goloshes.

Mr. Jeremy bounced up to the surface of the water, like a cork and the bubbles out of a soda water bottle; and he swam with all his might to the edge of the pond.

He scrambled out on the first bank he came to, and he hopped home across the meadow with his macintosh all in tatters.

“What a mercy that was not a pike!” said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

“I have lost my rod and basket; but it does not much matter, for I am sure I should never have dared to go fishing again!”

He put some sticking plaster on his fingers, and his friends both came to dinner. He could not offer them fish, but he had something else in his larder.

Sir Isaac Newton wore his black and gold waistcoat,

And Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise brought a salad with him in a string bag.

And instead of a nice dish of minnows – they had a roasted grasshopper with ladybird sauce; which frogs consider a beautiful treat; but I think it must have been nasty!



The End