Enid Blyton (3 page)

But the one who had done it didn't care a rap for Wilfred's threat. No—old Pink-Whistle grinned to himself and trotted quietly along after Wilfred, waiting to see what mean thing the boy would do next.

And then out would come another sheet of paper, of course—and Wilfred would have to wear another notice on his back!

Mr. Pink-Whistle followed Wilfred home, and then he sat on the wall outside still invisible, to wait for him to come out. Inside the house he could hear Wilfred being very rude to his mother.

"Wilfred, I want you to run down and get me some potatoes," said his mother.

"I don't want to. I'm tired," said the selfish boy.

"Now you do as you're told, Wilfred," said his mother. "Hurry up."

"Shan't!" said Wilfred. "I'm tired, I tell you."

Mr. Pink-Whistle listened, quite horrified. To think that any boy could talk to his mother like that! It was simply dreadful. Wilfred went on being rude—and then, when his mother had gone to the back door to speak to the baker, Wilfred slipped out of the front door. He wasn't going to fetch potatoes, not he!

Mr. Pink-Whistle had been busy writing something on a sheet of white paper with his black chalk. He waited till Wilfred passed him, and then the little fat man neatly pinned the paper on to Wilfred's back.

THE CHILDREN SAW THE NOTICE AND GATHERED ROUND, GIGGLING.

He did it with such a magic touch that the boy didn't feel anything at all. Off went Wilfred down the street, whistling—and on his back the sheet of paper said:

"I'VE BEEN VERY RUDE TO MY MOTHER."

Well, it wasn't long before all the passers-by saw the paper and began to laugh at it. "Fancy!" they said to one another, "he has been rude to his mother! Well, he looks a most unpleasant boy, it's true— but fancy being rude to his mother!"

The other children soon saw the notice and gathered round, giggling. Wilfred glared at them. Whatever was all the giggling about?

"You've been rude to your mother!" shouted Kenneth.

"Bad boy! You've been rude to your mother!" yelled all the children.

Wilfred stopped in surprise. Now how in the world did the others know that? He hadn't told anyone—and his mother certainly hadn't, for she would be too much ashamed of her son to say such a thing.

"How do you know?" he demanded angrily.

"You've got it on your back," shouted the children in glee.

Wilfred tore the paper off his back and looked at it. How he scowled when he saw what was printed there! But how could it have got on his back? And who could have written that sentence?

He tore the paper into little pieces and stuffed them into a litter bin. Then he stamped off angrily. Just wait till he caught anyone pinning paper on his back again! He kept turning round quickly to make sure that no one was creeping behind him.

Soon he met Alison, and she had a bag of sweets. "Give me one!" said Wilfred.

"No," said Alison bravely. Wilfred gave her such a pinch that she squealed loudly and ran away, hugging her bag of sweets and crying.

Well, you can guess that it wasn't more than half a minute before Mr. Pink-Whistle had pinned another sheet of paper on Wilfred's back! This time it said, in bold black letters:

"I HAVE PINCHED ALISON AND MADE HER CRY."

Everyone who saw it looked surprised-—and then grinned. "What a nasty little boy that must be!" they thought. They wondered if he knew that he had the paper on his back. He didn't know at first— but as soon as he met some other children, he knew at once!

For they danced around him, shouting, "You pinched Alison! You horrid boy! You pinched Alison and made her cry!"

"How do you know?" shouted Wilfred. "Did she tell tales on me?"

"No—you're telling tales about yourself!" yelled back the children, keeping a good distance away from the angry little boy. He at once felt round at his back and tore off the paper. When he read what was written he was rather frightened. He felt quite certain that no one had been near enough to him to pin on that paper—he had been keeping a good watch. Then how did it get on his back?

Wilfred thought he would go home. He didn't like these queer happenings at all. It wasn't a bit funny suddenly to have horrid things pinned on his back for people to laugh at. He ran home, quickly.

His mother was out in the garden. Wilfred thought that no one else was in the house, so he crept to the jam cupboard, and looked for a pot of strawberry jam. He didn't know that Mr. Pink-Whistle was just behind him, quite invisible! The naughty boy ran off with the jam and sat down under a bush in the front garden to enjoy it.

Mr. Pink-Whistle busily wrote on another sheet of paper, then sat down beside Wilfred, and pinned it gently on his back. The boy couldn't see Mr. Pink-Whistle, of course, and he was so busy with the jam that he didn't even hear the very slight rustle of the paper.

He finished the jam and went indoors, and as soon as he turned round his mother saw what was pinned on his back!

"I HAVE STOLEN A POT OF STRAWBERRY JAM,"

"Oh, have you!" said Wilfred's mother, and she went to her jam cupboard to look. Sure enough a pot was gone.

"Wilfred! You bad boy! You've taken my jam!" she cried. "Go straight upstairs to bed and stay there for the rest of the day! Go quickly before I smack you!"

Wilfred rushed upstairs, for his mother was really very angry indeed. He took his coat off to undress—and saw the notice that said so plainly, "I HAVE STOLEN A POT OF STRAWBERRY JAM."

Wilfred stared at it, frightened. Who had seen him take the jam? Who had pinned that notice on him? It was magic. It couldn't be anything else. Wilfred began to cry.

"Oh, it's all very well to cry," said the voice of Mr. Pink-Whistle in the bedroom. "You cry just because you are frightened—not because you are sorry. You are a horrid, rude, and mean little boy."

"Oh, who's speaking to me?" asked Wilfred, staring all round the room and seeing nobody. "I'm so frightened. Please, please, don't pin any more notices on me. I can't bear it."

"I shall go on pinning notices on you just as long as you do things that deserve it," said Mr. Pink-Whistle. "I say again—you are a very horrid, rude, and mean little boy."

There was a silence. Mr. Pink-Whistle had gone. Wilfred slowly got undressed and climbed into bed He lay there with nothing to do, thinking very hard.

Yes—the strange voice was right. He was a horrid boy. He had spoilt Kenneth's apple—broken Janet's tricycle—been rude to his mother—stolen her jam—pinched Alison—good gracious, what a long list of horridness!

"If only I could put things right!" thought Wilfred uncomfortably. "It's so easy to do something wrong—and so difficult to put it right afterwards."

"KENNETH, HERE'S SOMETHING FOR YOU," SAID WILFRED.

His mother came into the room, very angry. Wilfred called to her, "Mother! I'm sorry I was rude to-day—and please forgive me for taking the jam. I never will again. Can I take some money out of my money-box and buy another pot for you?"

"Well—that would be very nice of you and would put everything right again, Wilfred," said his mother, surprised and pleased. "You can get up and go and buy it now, before you change your mind."

"I shan't change my mind," said Wilfred, and he hurriedly dressed again. He had been saving up to buy a big bow and some arrows— but never mind! He tipped all the money out of his box. There were seven shillings, a sixpence, and many pennies. He put it all into his pocket.

He rushed out. He went to the grocer's and bought a large pot of best strawberry jam. He went to the greengrocer's and bought two apples for Kenneth. He went to the toy-shop and bought a doll for Alison, and a tricycle basket for Janet. All his money was spent!

The other children were most astonished when they saw Wilfred coming along looking ashamed and shy! He was always so bold and rude!

"Kenneth—here's something for you," said Wilfred, and he pushed the apples into the boy's hands. "Alison—I didn't mean to hurt you and make you cry. Here's a doll to make up for it. And, Janet— here's a new basket to put on the front of your tricycle. I'm sorry I broke it."

"Oh, Wilfred!" cried all three children in the greatest de-light. "How nice of you! Thank you very much."

Wilfred went red and ran home with the jam. He gave it to his mother and she kissed him.

"There's nobody can be nicer than you when you really try!" she said.

"Really, Mother?" said Wilfred, feeling very happy all of a sudden. "Oh, Mother—I don't know how those horrid notices came on my back, but I do hope there won't be any more, now I've tried to put things right."

Well—there was one more! Mr. Pink-Whistle had watched Wilfred trying to put things right, and he was pleased. He followed the boy about for a few more days and saw that he really was trying to be better. So he put one more notice on Wilfred's back—and then went off to another town to see if he could find something else to put right.

What was on that last paper? Something that Wilfred didn't mind at all! It said:

"I REALLY HAVE BEEN DOING MY BEST!"

And all the children clapped their hands and cried, "Yes, Wilfred— you have!"

A WONDERFUL PARTY

NOW
one day Mr. Pink-Whistle met such a nice pair of children that he really had to stop and talk to them. The girl had a bright, smiling face, and the boy looked so strong and had such twinkling eyes that Mr. Pink-Whistle couldn't help smiling when he saw him.

"Hallo, hallo there!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle, looking at the two children. "Are you twins? You look exactly alike!"

"Yes, we're twins," said the boy. "We were born on the same day. Mollie will be eight on Thursday and so shall I."

"Ha! A birthday!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle, who loved presents and surprises. "Good! I suppose you will be having a party?"

"Oh, of course," said Mollie. "Michael has chosen six boys and I have chosen six girls—so it will be a lovely big party! and do you know what Mike and I are going to have—a bran-tub! You see, Grandpa has given us five shillings each for our birthday, and we thought it would be a lovely idea to spend it on presents for our guests."

"We shall put them in the bran-tub and every one will draw one out!" said Michael, doing a little dance of joy on the pavement. "We're going to buy them now."

"Dear me, what nice children to think of giving other people presents on their birthday!" thought Mr. Pink-Whistle, who loved kind and generous people.

"Mother is making a big birthday-cake with both our names on it," said Mollie. "It's going to have pink icing. She saved up the sugar icing specially for us. And she is making pink, yellow, and red jellies, and two big chocolate blanc-manges."

"And we are going to play Blind-Man's Buff and Nuts-in-May, and Postman's Knock, and all kinds of games," said Peter. "And there are six boxes of crackers—what do you think of that? Won't everyone enjoy themselves?"

Mr. Pink-Whistle walked along with the two happy children and watched them buy twelve lovely presents for their little friends.

MOLLIE
AND MIKE GAVE MR. PINK-WHISTLE A BAG OF SWEETS.

There was twopence over, and what do you think the children did with it?