The Serial Garden: The Complete Armitage Family Stories (5 page)

"
Je crois que vous faites une montagne d'une colline—une colline de
..."

"Une taupinière,"
supplied Harriet kindly. “And you can call father ‘
tu,
’ you know."

Mark looked sulkily into his porridge and said, “Well, we've got to learn what Miss Croot teaches us, haven't we?"

"I shall go round and have a word with Miss Croot."

But as a result of his word with Miss Croot, from which Mr. Armitage emerged red and flustered, while she remained imperturbably calm and gracious, such very large snails began to march in an endless procession over the fence from Miss Croot's garden into the Armitage rosebed that Mrs. Armitage felt obliged to go round to the school and smooth things over.

"My husband always says a great deal more than he means, you know,” she apologized.

"Not at all,” replied Miss Croot affably. “As a matter of fact, I am closing down at Christmas in any case, for I have had a most flattering offer to go as an instructress to the young king of Siam."

"Thank goodness for
that
,” remarked Mr. Armitage. “I should think she'd do well there. But it's a long time till Christmas."

"At any rate, the snails have stopped coming,” said his wife placidly.

Mr. Armitage issued an edict to the children.

"I can't control what you do in school, but understand if you do any more of these tricks, there will be
no
Christmas tree,
no
Christmas party,
no
stockings, and
no
pantomime."

"Yes, we understand,” said Harriet sadly.

Mrs. Armitage, too, looked rather sad. She had been thinking what a help the children's gifts would be over the shopping; not perhaps with clothes, as nobody wanted a wardrobe that vanished at midnight, but food! Still, would there be very much nourishment in a joint of mutton that abandoned its eaters in the middle of the night; certainly not! It was all for the best.

Mark and Harriet faithfully, if crossly, obeyed their father's edict, and there were no further transformations in the Armitage family circle. But the ban did not, of course, apply to the little Shepherds. Richard, Geoffrey, and Moira were not very intelligent children, and it had taken some time for Miss Croot's teaching to sink into them, but when it did, they were naturally anxious to retaliate for being turned into sheep. Mark and Harriet hardly ever succeeded in reaching school in their natural shape; but whether they arrived as ravens, spiders, frogs, or pterodactyls, Miss Croot always changed them back again with sarcastic politeness. Everyone became very bored with the little Shepherds and their unchanging joke.

Guy Fawkes came and went with no serious casualties, except for a few broken arms and legs and cases of concussion among the children of the neighborhood, and Mrs. Armitage began making plans for her Christmas Party.

"We'll let the children stay up really late this year, shall we? You must admit they've been very good. And you'll dress up as Father Christmas, won't you?"

Her husband groaned, but said that he would.

"I've had such a bright idea. We'll have the children playing Sardines in the dark; they always love that; then you can put on your costume and sack of toys and get into the hiding-place with them and gradually reveal who you are. Don't you think that's clever?"

Mr. Armitage groaned again. He was always sceptical about his wife's good ideas, and this one seemed to him particularly open to mischance. But she looked so pleading that he finally agreed.

"I must make a list of people to ask,” she went on. “The Shepherds, and the McAlisters, and their children, and Miss Croot, of course...."

"
How
I wish we'd never heard of that woman's school,” said her husband crossly.

Miss Croot was delighted when Mark and Harriet gave her the invitation.

"I'll tell you what would be fun, children,” she said brightly. “At the end of the evening, I'll wave my wand and change you all into dear little fairies, and you can give a performance of that Dance of the Silver Bells that you've been practising. Your parents
will
be surprised. And I shall be the Fairy Queen. I'll compose a little poem for the occasion:

"Now, dear parents, you shall see

What your girls and boys can be

Lo, my magic wand I raise

And change them into elves and fays...

or something along those lines."

And she retired to her desk in the throes of composition, leaving the children to get on with copying their runes on their own.

"I think she's got a cheek,” whispered Mark indignantly. “After all, it's our party, not hers."

"Never mind, it won't take long,” said Harriet, who was rather fond of the Dance of the Silver Bells and secretly relished the thought of herself as a fairy.

The party went with a swing; from the first game of Hunt the Slipper, the first carol, the first sight of Mrs. Armitage's wonderful supper with all her specialties, the turkey
vol-a-vent
and Arabian fruit salad.

"Now how about a game of Sardines?” Mrs. Armitage called out, finding with astonishment that it was half-past eleven and that none of her guests could eat another crumb.

The lights were turned out.

"Please, we'd rather not play this game. We're a bit nervous,” twittered the Shepherd children, approaching their hostess. She looked at them crossly—really they
were
faddy children. “Very well, you sit by the fire here till it's time for the Tree.” As she left them, she noticed that they seemed to be drawing pictures in the ashes with their fingers, messy little beasts.

She went to help her husband into his cloak and beard.

"Everyone is in the cupboard under the stairs,” she said. “Harriet hid first, and I told her to go there. I should give them another minute."

"Who's that wandering about upstairs?"

"Oh, that's Miss Croot. Her bun came down, and she went up to fix it. Don't wait for her—there you are, you're done. Off with you."

Father Christmas shouldered his sack and went along to the stair cupboard.

"Well,” he exclaimed, in as jovial a whisper as he could manage, stepping into the thick and dusty dark, “I bet you can't guess who's come in this time.” Gosh, I do feel a fool, he thought.

Silence greeted his words.

"Is there anybody here?” he asked in surprise, and began feeling about in the blackness.

Mrs. Armitage, standing by the main switch, was disconcerted to hear shriek upon shriek coming from the cupboard. She threw on the light and her husband came reeling out, his beard all awry, parcels falling from his sack in all directions.

"Fish!” he gasped. “The whole cupboard's full of great, wriggling fish."

It was at this moment that Miss Croot appeared in full fig as the Fairy Queen, and began to recite:

"Now, dear parents, you shall see

What your girls and boys can be..."

A somewhat shamefaced procession of large silver fish appeared from the cupboard and began wriggling about on their tails.

"Oh dear,” said Miss Croot, taken aback. “This wasn't what I—"

"D.T.s,” moaned Mr. Armitage. “I've got D.T.s.” Then his gaze became fixed on Miss Croot in her regalia, and he roared at her:

"Did you do this, woman? Then out of my house you go, neck and crop."

"Mr. Armitage!” exclaimed Miss Croot, drawing herself up, stiff with rage, and she would certainly have turned him into a toad, had not an interruption come from the little Shepherds, who danced round them in a ring, chanting:

"Tee hee, it was us, it was us! Sucks to the Armitages!"

Luckily, at that moment, the clock struck twelve, the fish changed back into human form, and by a rapid circulation of fruit-cup, cherry ciderette, and the rescued parcels, Mrs. Armitage was able to avert disaster.

"Well, dear friends, I shall say good-bye to you now,” fluted Miss Croot, after ten minutes or so.

"Thank goodness,” muttered Mr. Armitage.

"I'm off to my new post in Siam, but I shall often think with regret of the little charges left behind, and I hope, dears, that you will all keep up the accomplishments that you have learned from me.” ("They'd better not,” growled her host.) “And that
you
, pets,” (here she bent a severe look on the little Shepherds) “will learn some better manners.
Au revoir
to all, and
joyeux noël.
"

At these words, the carpet beneath her feet suddenly rose and floated out of the window.

"My carpet!” cried Mr. Armitage. “My beautiful Persian carpet!"

But then they saw that the (admittedly worn) Persian carpet had been replaced by a priceless Aubusson, which, unlike Miss Croot's other gifts, did not vanish away at midnight.

All the same, it took Mr. Armitage a long time to get used to it. He hated new furniture.

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There was a good deal of trouble at breakfast. To begin with, Mr. Armitage was late, and that made Mrs. Armitage cross, as she always liked to have the meal over quickly on Mondays, so that the dining room could be turned out. Then she began reading her letters, and suddenly inquired:

"What is the date today?"

"The second,” said Harriet.

"I thought so. Then that means she is coming today. How very inconsiderate."

"Who is coming today?"

"Your cousin Sarah."

"Oh no!” said Mark and Harriet together, in deep dismay.

It is dreadful to have to say it of anybody, but their cousin Sarah was really a horrible girl. The only thing she seemed to enjoy was playing practical jokes, which she did the whole time. Nobody minds an occasional joke, but an endless course of sand in the brown-sugar bowl, grease on the stairs, and plastic spiders on the pillowcases soon becomes tiresome.

"It'll be apple-pie beds, apple-pie beds all the way,” said Mark gloomily. “Can't you put her off?"

"No, Aunt Rachel has to go into the hospital for an operation, so I'm afraid you'll just have to bear with her. She's coming at lunchtime."

Here Mr. Armitage arrived, and sat down rubbing his hands and saying: “The Christmas roses will be out any minute now."

"Your bacon's cold,” said his wife crossly. “Here are your letters."

He opened a long, important-looking one which had a lot of printed headings on it, and instantly began to puff and blow with rage.

"Evicted? Requisitioned? What's this? Notice to quit forthwith before 11 a.m., December the second. Who the dickens is this from?"

"Good gracious, my dear,” said his wife, “what have you got there?"

"It's from the Board of Incantation,” he replied, throwing the letter to her. “They've requisitioned this house, if you please, to make a seminary for young magicians, and we have notice to quit immediately."

"A. Whizzard,” murmured Mrs. Armitage, looking at the signature. “Wasn't that the name of the man whose book you were so rude about in your review?"

"Yes, of course. I knew the name seemed familiar. A shockingly bad book on spells and runes."

"Oh dear,” sighed Mrs. Armitage. “I do wish you'd learn to be more tactful. Now we have to find somewhere else to live, and just before Christmas, too. It really is too bad."

"Do we really have to be out by eleven o'clock?” asked Mark, who, with Harriet, had been listening round-eyed.

"I shall contest it,” said his father. “It's the most monstrous tyranny. They needn't think they can ride over me roughshod."

However, Mrs. Armitage, who was a quiet but practical person, at once sent Harriet along the village to ask if they could borrow the house of Mrs. Foster, who was going off to the south of France, while they looked around for somewhere else to live. Then with the help of Agnes and Mrs. Epis she packed up all their clothes and put them in the car. Mr. Armitage refused to leave with the rest of the family, and remained behind to tackle the invaders.

At eleven o'clock sharp several men who looked like builders’ laborers arrived. They rode on rather battered, paint-stained old broomsticks, and carried hammers, saws, and large sheets of beaverboard.

"Morning, guv'ner,” said one who seemed to be the foreman, advancing up the front steps.

Mr. Armitage stood in the way with his arms folded. “I protest against this unseemly intrusion!” he cried. “It is entirely contrary to the British constitution."

"Ah,” said the foreman, waving a screwdriver at him in a pitying manner, “you're cuckoo.” At once Mr. Armitage vanished, and in his place a large bird flapped in a dazed manner round the front door.

Just then an enormous, sleek black car rolled silently up to the gate, and a tall, sleek, dark man stepped out and came up the steps, swinging an elegant umbrella.

"Excellent, Wantage, excellent. I see you have arrived,” he said, glancing about. “I trust you have had no trouble?"

"Only a little, sir,” said the foreman respectfully, indicating the bird, which let out a hoarse and indignant “cuckoo!"

"Dear me,” said the sleek gentleman. “Can this be my unfortunate friend, Mr. Armitage? Such a pleasant person—perhaps just a
little
hot-tempered, just a
little
unkind in his reviews? However, it would certainly be equally unkind to wrest him from his old home; we must find some accommodation for him. Hawkins!” The chauffeur's head looked out from the car. “Bring the case, will you."