Five Run Away Together Part 3

"Just what I was about to ask you? said Julian, coolly. "What do you think you're doing here, sleeping in my uncle's kitchen?"

"I've a right to be here," said the man, in a rude voice. "My wife's cook here, isn't she? My ship's in and I'm on leave. Your uncle arranged with my wife I could come here then, see?"

Julian had feared as much. How awful to have a Mr. Stick as well as a Mrs. and Master Stick in the house! It would be quite unbearable.

"I can ask my uncle about it when he telephones in the morning," said Julian. "Now get out of my way, please. I want to go upstairs."

"Ho!" said Mr. Stick, eyeing the meat-pie and jam-tarts that Julian was carrying. "Ho! Stealing out of the larder, I see! Nice goings-on I must say."

Julian was not going to argue with Mr. Stick, who evidently felt that he was top-dog. "Get out of my way," he said. "I will talk to you in the morning after my uncle has telephoned."

Mr. Stick didn't seem as if he was going to get out of the way at all. He stood there, a nasty little man, not much taller than Julian, a sarcastic smile on his unshaven face.

Julian pursed up his lips and whistled. There came a b.u.mp on the floor above. That was Timothy jumping off George's bed! Then there came the pattering of feet down the stairs ,and up the. kitchen pa.s.sage. Timmy was coming!

He smelt Mr. Stick in the doorway, put up his hackles, bared his teeth and growled. Mr. Stick hastily removed himself from the doorway and then neatly banged the door in the dog's face. He grinned at Julian.

"Now what are you going to do?" he said.

"Shall I tell you?" said Julian, his temper suddenly rising. "I'm going to hurl this nice juicy meat-pie straight into your grinning face!"

He raised his arm, and Mr. Stock ducked.

"Now don't you do that," he said. "I'm only pulling your leg, see? Don't you waste that nice meat-pie. You can go upstairs if you want to."

He moved away to the sofa. Julian opened the door and Timothy bounded in growling. Mr. Stick eyed him uncomfortably.

"Don't you let that nasty great dog come near me," he said. "I don't like dogs."

"Then I wonder you don't get rid of Stinker," said Julian. "Come here, Timmy! Leave him alone. He's not worth growling at."

Julian went upstairs with Timothy close at his heels. The others crowded round him, wondering what had happened, for they had heard the voices downstairs. They laughed when Julian told them how he had nearly thrown the meat-pie at Mr. Stick.

"It would have served him right," said Anne, "though it would have been a great pity, because we shouldn't have been able to eat it. Well, Mrs. Stick may be simply horrible, but she can cook. This pie is gorgeous."

The children finished all the pie and the tarts, too. Julian told them all about Mr. Stick coming on leave from his ship.

"Three Sticks are a lot too much," said d.i.c.k thoughtfully. "Pity we can't get rid of them all and manage for ourselves. George, can't you possibly persuade your father tomorrow to let us get rid of the Sticks and look after ourselves?"

"I'll try," said George. "But you know what he is-awfully difficult to argue with. But I'll try. Golly, I'm sleepy now. Come on, Timmy, let's get to bed! Lie on my feet. I'm hardly going to let you out of my sight now, in case those awful Sticks poison you!"

Soon the four children, now no longer hungry, were sleeping peacefully. They did not fear the Sticks coming up to their rooms, for they knew that Timmy would wake and warn them at once. Timmy was the best guard they could have.

In the morning Mrs. Stick actually produced some sort of breakfast, which surprised the children very much. "Guess she knows your father will telephone, George," said Julian, "and she wants to keep herself in the right. When did he say he would "phone? Nine o'clock, wasn't it? Well, it's half-past eight now. Let's go for a quick run down to the beach and back."

So off they went, the five of them, ignoring Edgar, who stood in the back garden ready to make some of his silly faces at them. The children couldn't help thinking he must be a bit mad. He didn't behave at all like a boy of Julian's age.

When they came back it was about ten minutes to nine. "We'll sit in the sitting-room till the telephone rings," said Julian. "We don't want Mrs. Stick to answer it first."

But to their great dismay, as they reached the house, they heard Mrs. Stick using the telephone in the hall!

"Yes, sir," they heard her say, "everything is quite all right. I can manage the children, sir, even if they do make things a bit difficult. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Well, sir, it's lucky my husband is home on leave from his ship, sir, because he can help me round, like, and it makes things easier. Don't you worry about nothing, sir, and don't you bother to come back till you're ready. I'll manage everything."

George flew into the hall like a wild thing, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the receiver out of Mrs. Stick's hand.

"Father! It's me, George! How's Mother? Tell me quick!"

"No worse, George," said her father's voice. "But we shan't know anything definite till tomorrow morning. I'm glad to hear from Mrs. Stick that everything is all right. I'm very upset and worried, and I'm glad to feel I can tell your Mother that you are all right, and everything is going smoothly at Kirrin Cottage."

"But it isn't," said George, wildly. "It isn't. It's all horrid. Can't the Sticks go and let us manage things by ourselves?"

"Good gracious me, of course not," said her father's voice, surprised and annoyed. "What can you be thinking of? I did hope, George, that you would be sensible and helpful. I must say..."

"You talk to him, Julian," said George, helplessly, and thrust the receiver into Julian's hand. The boy put it to his ear and spoke into the telephone in his clear voice."

"Good morning, sir. This is Julian! I'm glad my aunt is no worse."

"Well, she will be if she thinks things are going wrong at Kirrin Cottage," said Uncle Quentin, in an exasperated voice. "Can't you manage George and make her see reason? Good gracious, can't she put up with the Sticks for a week or two? I tell you frankly, Julian, I am not going to sack the Sticks in my absence-I want the house ready for me to bring back your aunt. If you can't put up with them, you had better find out from your own parents if they can take you back for the rest of the holidays. But George is not to go with you. She is to stay at Kirrin Cottage. That's my last word on the subject."

"But, sir," began Julian, wondering how in the world he could deal properly with his hot-tempered uncle, "I must tell you that ..."

There was a click at the other end of the "phone. Uncle Quentin had put down his receiver and gone. There was no more to be said. Blow! Julian pursed up his mouth and looked round at the others, frowning.

"He's gone!" he said. "Cut me off just as I was trying to reason with him."

"Serves you right!" said Mrs. Stick's harsh voice from the end of the hall. "Now you know where you stand. I'm here and I'm staying here, on your uncle's orders. And you're all going to behave yourselves, or it'll be the worse for you."

Chapter Six.

JULIAN DEFEATS THE STICKS.

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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k. 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 d.i.c.k, 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 beIore: "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.

"NoI 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 b.u.t.ter 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 gra.s.s outside.

"Your dog's dinner," he yelled.

"He looks like a dog's dinner himself," said d.i.c.k, in disgust. "Messy creature!"