The girls went upstairs. ‘Mother’s as mysterious about Gus as Bill is,’ said Dinah, crossly. ‘Is there some mystery about him? Can he be a Prince in disguise, or something?’
‘What! A silly little boy like him!’ said Lucy-Ann, in disgust. ‘Of COURSE not!’
Chapter 6
MOSTLY ABOUT GUSSY
IT was fun settling in at Quarry Cottage. Mrs. Cunningham was pleased and happy. She hadn’t been looking forward to a holiday for seven people, five of them children, knowing that she would have to do everything for them, and that perhaps the shopping would be difficult.
But it was easy. The village was not too far away, even for walking purposes. The farmhouse was willing to supply a wonderful selection of good food. Mrs. Gump, the tiny little charwoman, came every day, and was cheerful and hard-working. She also liked children, which was a great blessing.
She didn’t like Gussy, though. ‘He orders me about, that one,’ she complained. ‘He even wanted me to go upstairs and fetch his handkerchief for him, Mam. He’s a little foreigner, isn’t he? Well, I’m not going to be ordered about by foreigners, specially not little nippers like that.’
Gussy was very difficult those first days. He didn’t like this and he didn’t like that. He complained if he was given a cracked plate. He absolutely refused to make his bed, though it was a rule in the house that everyone should make their own.
‘I do not make beds,’ he announced, in his haughtiest manner. ‘Mrs. Gump shall make my bed.’
‘Mrs. Gump shall not,’ said Dinah, firmly. ‘You go and make your own-and for goodness’ sake don’t make such a fuss, Gussy.’
‘Fussy-Gussy, Fussy-Gussy!’ chanted Kiki, in delight. ‘Fussy-Gussy, Fussy …’
Gus caught up a book and flung it at Kiki. The bird dodged easily, sat on the back of a chair and cackled with laughter. Gus was just about to pick up another book when he found himself on his back on the floor.
Dinah had put up with enough from Gussy. She had now lost her temper, and was showing him how well she could do it! She banged his head on the floor, and he yelled the place down.
Mrs. Cunningham came in at once. ‘Dinah! What are you thinking of? Get up at once. Go upstairs and stay there till I come to you.’
‘He flung a book at Kiki,’ panted Dinah, rising up red and angry. Gussy still lay on the floor, and the tears ran down his cheeks.
‘Get up, Gussy,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘I’m just as cross with you as I am with Dinah. Go up to your room too, and stay there.’
‘You cannot order me,’ said Gussy, with as much dignity as he could manage through his tears. ‘Send this girl back home. And that wicket bird.’
‘GO TO YOUR ROOM!’ said Mrs. Cunningham in such a furious voice that Gussy leapt to his feet, tore up the stairs, went into his room, slammed the door and turned the key!
Bill came in. ‘It’s Gussy again,’ said his wife. ‘He’s such a little fathead. I hope this is going to work out all right, Bill. I think we should have thought of some other idea. The others don’t understand, you see. Can’t we tell them?’
‘I’ll have a word with Gussy again,’ said Bill. ‘If he doesn’t come to heel I’ll take him away by myself-but I thought it would be so much safer if he was here with all of us.’
He went upstairs. Mrs. Cunningham also went up to Dinah. Lucy-Ann was with her, arranging the clothes in the drawers. Dinah was very mutinous.
‘It’s all very well,’ she said, when her mother scolded her, ‘but why should Gussy spoil everything for us? He’s always interfering, always ordering us about, always wanting the best of everything for himself-and fancy DARING to try and hurt Kiki!’
‘I understand how you all feel,’ said her mother. ‘So does Bill. But he’s promised to keep an eye on Gussy for the next few weeks, and he must. I think perhaps it would be best if he took Gussy off somewhere, and left us here by ourselves.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Lucy-Ann at once. ‘No, Aunt Allie! You’ve married him, and he belongs to us now. Please don’t let him do that! Dinah, say something!’
‘Well-I thought I could put up with Gussy, rather than have Bill leave us,’ said Dinah. ‘But-but-oh dear, I can’t promise not to go for Gussy. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself! And I can’t possibly let Bill go away either.’
‘Well, stay here by yourself for an hour and make up your mind,’ said her mother, losing patience. ‘Lucy-Ann, come downstairs with me.’
Nobody told Jack or Philip about Gussy flinging a book at Kiki. Kiki didn’t forget though! She plagued the life out of poor Gussy! He never knew when she was under the table ready to tweak his toes at the end of his sandals. He never knew when she would hide in his bedroom and wait for him to come up. Then she would produce one of her extraordinary noises and send him downstairs in a panic at top speed!
‘Well, if Bill didn’t punish him-and I don’t think he did-Kiki’s doing it all right!’ said Dinah to Lucy-Ann. ‘Anyway, Gussy is certainly better. I wish he wasn’t coming on the picnic with us today, though.’
A picnic had been arranged for everyone on Sugar-Loaf Hill. It was really the name that had attracted the children-Sugar-Loaf Hill! What a lovely name!
They set off together, Bill and the boys carrying the food in satchels on their backs. Gus had made a fuss, of course. He seemed to think that it was a great indignity to carry something on his back.
‘Never haf I done this before,’ he protested. ‘In my country it is the-how do you call it?-donkeys who carry for us. Why do you not haf donkeys? I will not be a donkey.’
He was puzzled at the shouts of laughter that greeted this speech. ‘Oh, Gus-you’ll be the death of me,’ said Jack. ‘Do you mean to say you didn’t know you were a donkey?’
‘It is bad to call me that,’ said Gussy, frowning. ‘In my country you would …’
‘Oh, gee-up, donkey, and stop braying,’ said Philip, giving Gussy a shove. ‘Leave your satchel behind, if you like. No one will mind. It’s got your lunch in, but nobody else’s! We’re carrying the girls’ lunch, and Bill’s got Mother’s. You’ve only got your own.’
‘So chuck it into the bushes, then you won’t have to carry it like a donkey,’ said Dinah, with a squeal of laughter. ‘Go on, Gus!’
But Gus didn’t. He thought better of it, and took the satchel of food on his back, though he looked extremely sulky about it.
Sugar-Loaf Hill was just like its name-it was very like a sugar-loaf, cone-shaped but flat at the top, and was covered with primroses, cowslips and dog-violets.
‘We ought to be able to see quite a good way from the top,’ said Jack, as they toiled up. It was a stiff pull up but at last they were at the top. A strong breeze blew round them, but the sun was hot, so it was very pleasant to feel the wind blowing by.
‘I say! Gussy carried his lunch after all!’ said Jack, pretending to be surprised. ‘My word, I’m hungry.’
They all were. They ate every single thing they had brought, and Kiki had a good share too, especially of the bananas. She loved holding a banana in one foot and biting big pieces off it.
Gussy sneezed. Kiki immediately sneezed too, a much bigger sneeze than Gussy’s. Then Gussy sniffed, a little habit he had which annoyed Mrs. Cunningham very much.
Kiki sniffed too. ‘Stop it, Kiki,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘One sniffer is quite enough.’
‘Polly’s got a cold,’ said Kiki, and sniffed again, exactly like Gussy. Gussy took no notice but after a minute he suddenly sniffed again.
‘Blow your nose!’ shouted Kiki. ‘Where’s your hanky! Gussy’s got a cold, send for …’
‘Be quiet, Kiki,’ said Jack. ‘Gussy, don’t keep sniffing. If you do, you’ll set Kiki off and she’ll do nothing but sniff too.’
‘I do not sniff,’ said Gussy. ‘That bird is wicket and too clever. It should have a cage.’
‘Shut up, Gus,’ said Bill, who was now leaning back, enjoying a pipe. ‘Remember what I said to you.’
Gus apparently remembered. He subsided and lay back and closed his eyes. The others sat and looked at the view. It was marvellous, for they could see a great way off.
‘That’s the village over there,’ said Philip, pointing. ‘And there’s the farmhouse. And you can just see the tops of the chimneys and a bit of one end of the thatched roof belonging to Quarry Cottage. In those trees, look.’
‘And there’s the road we came by-the main road,’ said Jack. ‘Where are my field-glasses? Pass them, Di. Gosh, I can see miles with these. I can see the way the main road twists and turns; I can see the traffic on it-looking just as small as the toy cars we used to have, Philip. Have a look.’