He waggled it at Anne and she laughed. ‘\ wish you’d tell me how you do that,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you know. You can’t think how thrilled the girls at school would be if I learnt that trick. They’d think it was super.’
Mr Luffy grinned and got up. ‘Well, so long,’ he said. ‘I’m off before Anne makes me give her a lesson in ear-waggles.’
He went off down the slope to his own tent. George and Anne washed-up, while the boys tightened some tent ropes that had come loose, and generally tidied up.
‘I suppose it’s quite all right leaving everything unguarded like this,’ said Anne, anxiously.
‘Well, we did yesterday,’ said Dick. ‘And who’s likely to come and take anything up here in this wild and lonely spot, I’d like to know? You don’t imagine a spook-train will come along and bundle everything into its luggage-van, do you, Anne?’
Anne giggled. ‘Don’t be silly. I just wondered if we ought to leave Timmy on guard, that’s all.’
‘Leave Timmy!’ said George, amazed. ‘You don’t really think I’d leave Timmy behind every time we go off anywhere, Anne? Don’t be an idiot.’
‘No, I didn’t really think you would,’ said Anne. ‘Well, I suppose nobody will come along here. Throw over that tea-cloth, George, if you’ve finished with it.’
Soon the tea-cloths were hanging over the gorse bushes to dry in the sun. Everything was put away neatly in the tents. Mr Luffy had called a loud goodbye and gone. Now the five were ready to go off to the farm.
Anne took a basket, and gave one to Julian too. ‘To bring back the food,’ said she. ‘Are you ready to go now?’
They set off over the heather, their knees brushing through the honeyed flowers, and sending scores of busy bees into the air. It was a lovely day again, and the children felt free and happy.
They came to the trim little farm. Men were at work in the fields, but Julian did not think they were very industrious. He looked about for the farm-boy.
The boy came out of a shed and whistled to them. ‘Hallo! You come for some more eggs? I’ve collected quite a lot for you.’
He stared at Anne. ‘You didn’t come yesterday. What’s your name?’
‘Anne,’ said Anne. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Jock,’ said the boy, with a grin. He was rather a nice boy, Anne thought, with straw-coloured hair, blue eyes, and rather a red face which looked very good-tempered.
‘Where’s your mother?’ said Julian. ‘Can we get some bread and other things from her today? We ate an awful lot of our food yesterday, and we want to stock up our larder again!’
‘She’s busy just now in the dairy,’ said Jock. ‘Are you in a hurry? Come and see my pups.’
They all walked off with him to a shed. In there, right at the end, was a big box lined with straw. A collie dog lay there with five lovely little puppies. She growled at Timmy fiercely, and he backed hurriedly out of the shed. He had met fierce mother-dogs before, and he didn’t like them!
The four children exclaimed over the fat little puppies, and Anne took one out very gently. It cuddled into her arms and made funny little whining noises.
‘! wish it was mine,’ said Anne. ‘I should call it Cuddle.’
‘What a frightful name for a dog,’ said George scornfully. ‘Just the kind of silly name you would think of, Anne. Let me hold it. Are they all yours, Jock?’
‘Yes,’ said Jock, proudly. ‘The mother’s mine, you see. Her name’s Biddy.’
Biddy pricked up her ears at her name and looked up at Jock out of bright, alert eyes. He fondled her silky head.
‘I’ve had her for four years,’ he said. ‘When we were at Owl Farm, old Farmer Burrows gave her to me when she was eight weeks old.’
‘Oh – were you at another farm before this one, then?’ asked Anne. ‘Have you always lived on a farm? Aren’t you lucky!’
‘I’ve only lived on two,’ said Jock. ‘Owl Farm and this one. Mum and I had to leave Owl Farm when Dad died, and we went to live in a town for a year. I hated that. I was glad when we came here.’
‘But I thought your father was here!’ said Dick, puzzled.
‘That’s my stepfather,’ said Jock. ‘He’s no farmer, though!’ He looked round and lowered his voice. ‘He doesn’t know much about farming. It’s my mother that tells the men what to do. Still, he gives her plenty of money to do everything well, and we’ve got fine machinery and wagons and things. Like to see the dairy? It’s slap up-to-date and Mum loves working in it.’
Jock took the four children to the shining, spotless dairy. His mother was at work there with a girl. She nodded and smiled at the children. ‘Good morning! Hungry again? I’ll pack you up plenty of food when I’ve finished in the dairy. Would you like to stay and have dinner with my Jock? He’s lonely enough here
in the holidays, with no other boy to keep him company.’
‘Oh, yes – do let’s!’ cried Anne, in delight. Td like that. Can we, Ju?’
‘Yes. Thank you very much, Mrs – er – Mrs …’ said Julian.
Tm Mrs Andrews,’ said Jock’s mother. ‘But Jock is Jock Robins – he’s the son of my first husband, a farmer. Well, stay to dinner all of you, and I’ll see if I can give you a meal that will keep you going for the rest of the day!’
This sounded good. The four children felt thrilled, and Timmy wagged his tail hard. He liked Mrs Andrews.
‘Come on,’ saidjqck, joyfully. Til take you all round the farm, into every corner. It’s not very big, but we’re going to make it the best little farm on the moorlands. My stepfather doesn’t seem to take much interest in the work of the farm, but he’sjolly generous when it comes to handing out money to Mum to buy everything she wants.’
It certainly seemed to the children that the machinery on the farm was absolutely up-to-date. They examined the combine, they went into the little cowshed and admired the clean stone floor with white brick walls, they climbed into the red-painted wagons, and they wished they could try the two motor-tractors that stood side by side in a barn.
‘You’ve got plenty of men here to work the farm,’ said Julian. ‘I shouldn’t have thought there was enough for so many to do on this small place.’
‘They’re not good workers,’ said Jock, his face creasing into frowns. ‘Mum’s always getting wild with them. They just don’t know what to do. Dad gives her plenty of men to work the farm, but he
always chooses the wrong ones! They don’t seem to like farm-work, and they’re always running off to the nearest town whenever they can. There’s only one good fellow and he’s old. See him over there? His name’s Will.’
The children looked at Will. He was working in the little vegetable garden, an old fellow with a shrivelled face, a tiny nose and a pair of very blue eyes. They liked the look of him.
‘Yes. He looks like a farm-worker,’ said Julian. ‘The others don’t.’
‘He won’t work with them,’ said Jock. ‘He just says rude things to them, and calls them ninnies and idjits.’
‘What’s an idjit?’ asked Anne.
‘An idiot, silly,’ said Dick. He walked up to old Will. ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘You’re very busy. There’s always a lot to do on a farm, isn’t there?’
The old fellow looked at Dick out of his very blue eyes, and went on with his work. ‘Plenty to do and plenty of folk to do it, and not much done,’ he said, in a croaking kind of voice. ‘Never thought I’d be put to work with ninnies and idjits. Not ninnies and idjits!’
‘There! What did I tell you?’ said Jock, with a grin. ‘He’s always calling the other men that, so wejust have to let him work right away from them. Still, I must say he’s about right – most of the fellows here don’t know the first thing about work on a farm. I wish my stepfather would let us have a few proper workers instead of these fellows.’
‘Where’s your stepfather?’ said Julian, thinking he must be rather peculiar to pour money into a little moorland farm like this, and yet choose the wrong kind of workers.
‘He’s away for the day,’ said Jock. ‘Thank goodness!’ he added, with a sideways look at the others.
‘Why? Don’t you like him?’ asked Dick.
‘He’s all right,’ said Jock. ‘But he’s not a farmer, though he makes out he’s always wanted to be – and what’s more he doesn’t like me one bit. I try to like him for Mum’s sake. But I’m always glad when he’s out of the way.’