The Tale of Holly How (26 page)

He had managed to escape the brutal badger digger who had destroyed his home at the Hill Top quarry and cruelly kidnapped his mother and sister, but his leg had been badly injured in the attempt. He had been found by Jeremy Crosfield—
“Admirable young chap,”
muttered Bosworth,
“most admirable”
—who had taken him to the veterinarian for treatment, and then back to the cottage he shared with his aunt, for rest and recovery.

But earlier that evening, Jeremy had put Thorn into a sack and taken him to the stable behind the Sawrey Hotel, where they hid themselves in the loft. It seemed that Jeremy, who occasionally worked as a stable boy, had some sort of plan to disrupt the badger-baiting and rescue Thorn’s mother and sister. He didn’t get a chance to carry it out, though, for the constable had intervened, blowing his whistle and throwing everyone in the stable into utter confusion. Then the animals had rushed in, adding to the chaos, whilst Thorn and Jeremy watched from the loft, cheering them on. When the raid was over and the men had left the stable, Jeremy had put Thorn back in the sack and climbed down out of the loft.

From that point, Thorn couldn’t provide any information, because (of course) he was shut up in the sack on Jeremy’s shoulder. But he was aware that the boy was climbing up hills and walking for what seemed a very long way. At last they had stopped, Jeremy opened the sack, and told Thorn that it was safe to come out. And then he had found himself on The Brockery’s doorstep and—

“And now you are safe,”
said his mother.
“We are all three together again, and Mr. Badger has offered us a home. What a great blessing.”
She burst into tears.

Bosworth, who was never quite sure how to comfort a crying female, cleared his throat.
“I think,”
he said gruffly,
“that it is time we all went to bed.”

And now he could look up and down the breakfast table and see not only the friends who had joined him in the Great Raid, and the victims they had rescued from an unspeakable fate, but four badgers—five, counting himself—and one of them a boy badger, who, when he grew up, might be just the badger to assume responsibility for the
History
and the
Genealogy.

35

Bo Peep’s Sheep

Miss Potter’s mission to Kendal was highly successful. It was late afternoon before she returned, satisfied that she had at last found a contractor with whom she could comfortably work, and who might succeed where Mr. Biddle had failed, to stop out the pesky rats. In her room at Belle Green, she changed out of her traveling clothes, checked to make sure that Tuppenny was settling in, and went down to the kitchen for a quick cup of tea with Mrs. Crook. Then, putting on her hat and taking a walking stick, she whistled for Rascal.

Rascal was delighted when Miss Potter asked him to escort her, but he was even more pleased when she began carrying on a conversation with him as they walked up Stony Lane. He had noticed that she seemed to talk to all of her animals in that way—as if they were Big Folk. It was a pleasant habit, and one that made him like her even more than he already did.

“It’s been an eventful week,” she remarked as they tramped up the hill. “But everything seems to have turned out well in the end. Lady Longford is no longer in danger from that horrible Miss Martine, and Caroline is safely back at the Manor. Jack Ogden will to have to face justice, the badger-baiting was broken up, and Mr. Heelis found Tuppenny—quite remarkable, when one thinks about it. And I’ve hired a new contractor to replace Mr. Biddle, so perhaps the work at Hill Top Farm will be finished soon, after all.” She paused. “As far as I can see, there’s only one big problem left.”

“The sheep,”
Rascal barked.

Miss Potter smiled down at him. “I feel like Bo Peep, you know. ‘Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep, and can’t tell where to find them.’ P’rhaps I shall put that nursery rhyme in a book some day.” Her smile faded. “Although I can’t think that these sheep will simply come home, wagging their tails behind them.”

“Why not?”
Rascal asked.
“They’re heafed to Holly How. That’s where they live—at least as far as they know. If they can get loose from wherever they are, they’ll go straight home to Holly How. Maybe we should go have another look—”

“We are going to Oldfield Farm, Rascal. I suspect that the sheep are there, and that Mr. Chance hopes I will buy them from him.” Miss Potter thumped her walking stick emphatically. “But if they’re mine, I’ll recognize them. They have lug marks—both ears are shear-halved.”

Rascal knew all about lug marks, of course: slits, notches, or shapes cut into a sheep’s ear to establish its owner’s identity. An ear that was “shear-halved” had a large scallop cut out of the tip. And farmers like Ben Hornby, who managed land that was owned by the lord of the local manor, were entitled to mark
both
ears, not just one. Sheep thieves sometimes removed the lug marks by cutting off the ears of stolen sheep. No knowledgeable farmer would buy a sheep with no ears, of course, for it was clear evidence of theft. But Miss Potter was new to farming, and Mr. Chance might think that he could put one over on her. Rascal wondered grimly if the Holly How sheep had already had their ears cut off.

The afternoon sun was dropping toward the west, the air was warm and sweet, and birds sang in the hedge. Rascal and Miss Potter walked past Tidmarsh Manor, and then past the lane that led to Holly How Farm. They had gone perhaps a quarter-mile farther when they saw, coming toward them, five Herdwick sheep—two ewes and three lambs—in the company of a large yellow dog, limping along behind them.

“Tibbie!”
Rascal yipped.
“Queenie! Where are you going?”

“Home, of course,”
sighed Tibbie.
“Where do you think?”

“And I’m leavin’ Oldfield Farm,”
Mustard growled.
“I’ve had all I can take of Isaac Chance’s boot, and bein’ chained in t’ barn with nothin’ t’ eat. Even an auld dog like me can learn a new trick or twa.”

“How’d the sheep get loose?”
Rascal asked.

Mustard shook his head.
“You’re not goin’ to b’lieve this, but it was an owl.”

“An owl!”
Rascal exclaimed, thinking immediately of the professor.

“I said you wouldn’t b’lieve it. He flew down and knocked t’ hasp off t’ barn door so’s I could get out. Flew to t’ sheep pen and did t’ same trick. Broad daylight, and bold as brass, he was.”
He shook his head again in disbelief.
“Reet maffled me, for sure. Ne’er saw such a thing in all me life.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake,” Miss Potter said, examining the sheep’s ears. “If it isn’t
my
Herdwicks, two ewes and three lambs!” She bent over and stroked Mustard’s head. “Thank you for returning them to me, Mustard. You’ve saved me a long walk, and worry, and a nasty confrontation with Mr. Chance.” She straightened up. “I’ll take them down to Hill Top Farm. You can go home now.”

“I doan’t have nae hoame nae more,”
Mustard said mournfully.
“I’ll just tag along with you, if you doan’t mind, Missus.”

“Taaake us down to Hill Top?”
Tibbie’s bleat was disconsolate.
“But we’re going to Holly How. Thaaat’s where we live!”

“Not any more you don’t,”
Rascal replied.
“Your new home is with Miss Potter. Old Ben Hornby is gone, you know.”

Tibbie nodded sadly.
“We saaaw what Jack Ogden did. He didn’t mean to kill Mr. Hornby, though. They got into a fight on the edge of the cliff, and there was an aaacident.”
She shuddered from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. “
It was appaaalling.”

“Too bad you can’t testify at Ogden’s hearing,”
Rascal said.
“The Big Folk would get on much better in this world if they could hear what we have to say.”
He paused, and the other animals nodded thoughtfully. It was something they had all wished from time to time. The world would be a more harmonious place if all of God’s creatures could talk to one another.

“But now you have a new mistress and a fine new place to live,”
Rascal went on cheerfully.
“You’ll like it—really, you will. Lots of green grass, and a hill to climb, and Wilfin Beck running through the meadow for fresh water, and cows and horses for company.”
He added, thinking this would please Tibbie,
“And since you’re nearer the village, there will be more chance for news and gossip. And who knows—perhaps Miss Potter will put you into one of her little books.”

“I don’t know about books,”
said Tibbie, brightening somewhat,
“but news is always nice.”
She sighed.
“Well, if we haaave to heaf to a new place, we’d best get on with the business. It’s not easy, you know. Come along, laaambs.”
And with a resigned shake of her wooly head, she set off down the lane with her twin lambs. After a moment, and one last, longing glance up at Holly How, Queenie and her lamb hurried to catch up.

Miss Potter, holding her walking stick like a shepherd’s crook, followed the sheep. And in spite of her efforts to make Mustard go back to Oldfield Farm, he tagged along at her heels, with Rascal.

“So you’re looking for a new home, then?”
Rascal asked, feeling some sympathy for the old yellow dog. Mustard was a country fellow and a bit rough around the edges, but manners weren’t everything. He had a good heart.

“A new home,”
Mustard said,
“and a new job. Some of us has to work for a livin’ .”
He paused.
“Doan’t know any farmers in need of a dog, do you? Experienced herder, handy with sheep and cows. Good watchdog, too—sharp teeth, strong claws, sleeps with both eyes open. Doan’t eat more ’n his due, neither.”
He glanced at Miss Potter, striding sturdily two paces ahead.
“T’ lady farmer, f ’ instance. She have a dog at Hill Top?”

“I don’t believe she does,”
Rascal replied.

“She does now,”
Mustard said, and plodded onward.

36

Life Goes On

After the police raid on the badger-baiting in the Sawrey Hotel stable, life in the twin hamlets of Near and Far Sawrey quickly returned to normal. The Flower Show was well attended and highly praised, although there was a great deal of grumbling about Mr. Calvin’s judging of the dahlias. The Esthwaite Vale Cycling Club organized a meet, and the cyclists bought every scone and sausage roll and tea cake that Sarah Barwick had on display in her bakery window. In fact, the bakery’s business improved so much that Sarah (who was now called “Sarah Scones” by the villagers) was able to hire Elsa Grape’s brother’s daughter to help with the sweeping and washing up and mind the shop when Sarah was making deliveries.

Hard on the heels of July’s hay-making came August’s sheep-clipping, and the farmers were busy with their late summer work. Old he might be, but Mustard settled into his new job at Hill Top Farm as if he had always been employed there, and Isaac Chance (who heard at the pub that Miss Potter had recovered her missing sheep) never even came looking for him.

And then, three weeks after Ben Hornby’s death, Isaac Chance himself was dead, kicked in the head by his black horse, Blaze. Some in the village said it was purely an accident, others asserted that Chance had cruelly mistreated the horse and he’d only got what was coming to him. Captain Woodcock said privately to his sister Dimity that he was sorry that he’d never been able to gather enough evidence to charge Chance with burning the Holly How barn and poisoning the Holly How cows, but things had a way of working out for the best, didn’t they? Miss Potter, feeling the need for another horse to help out at Hill Top Farm, purchased Blaze and treated his whip welts and his sore hoofs. Once the old horse was feeling more like himself, he seemed eager to get to work.

Tibbie and Queenie and their lambs took up residence in the Hill Top meadow, finding a great deal to like in the sweet green grass and pleasant waters of Wilfin Beck. If they thought back to their former heaf at Holly How, it was only with the vague nostalgia that is often felt for an earlier home, whether that home was entirely happy or not. For her part, Queenie shuddered whenever she thought about being captured and imprisoned in the pen at Oldfield Farm. And Tibbie never wanted to think back on the appalling accident in which Mr. Hornby had been killed. So both were glad enough to get on with their new life at Hill Top.

After the Great Raid, the wild creatures lived on Holly How in contentment and harmony, and the residents of The Brockery were untroubled by further alarms and excursions. Primrose brought a much welcomed new look to the old sett. Seeing that there was a great deal to be done in the long neglected chambers, she undertook their general cleanup and redecoration, arranging for sweeping out and for whitewashing parties, overseeing the laying of new carpets, and with Hyacinth’s help, sewing bedcovers and draperies. Bosworth Badger XVII, who spent a portion of every day instructing Thorn in the details of the
History
and
Genealogy,
couldn’t have been happier with the way things were going. Thorn showed such promise that Bosworth knew he would not hesitate—at the proper time, of course—to hand over to him the Badger Badge of Authority, together with full responsibility for The Brockery’s management. Bosworth himself had begun to anticipate the day that he would have nothing else to do but sit on his front porch and smoke, or visit Professor Owl’s astronomical observatory, or go looking for earthworms in the rain on Holly How.

Caroline Longford was also getting on with her new life. Lady Longford, once she was no longer influenced by Miss Martine and was fully recovered from her temporary indisposition, found that she enjoyed being a grandmother, and that it was unexpectedly pleasant to have an active, energetic young girl living at Tidmarsh Manor. Of course, there were arguments, and Caroline had to learn to accommodate her grandmother’s wishes, but she was delighted when Lady Longford allowed her to have a pair of guinea pigs as pets. She was even happier when it was decided that she should attend the village school, where Miss Nash—to the satisfaction of the entire village—had taken her place as the new head teacher. Caroline and Jeremy became even closer friends when Lady Longford allowed Jeremy’s aunt to move into the old farmhouse at Holly How, which was much larger and more convenient than the small, damp cottage at Cunsey Beck.

Others did not have so much to look forward to. Jack Ogden, who had played a part in the accident on Holly How, pled guilty to assault and battery against Ben Hornby, and was sent to prison for a term of ten years. To no one’s surprise, he was not charged with badger-baiting.

The Wentworths, brother and sister, were bound over to the autumn assizes in Carlisle on charges of grand larceny and conspiracy to commit murder. Emily had made a new green dress for the trial. However, she would have to share the limelight with Mrs. Beever, who had been told that she would be required to testify to the theft of a packet of flypapers from her kitchen cupboard. Things looked dark for the pair, and it was generally expected that they would be found guilty and receive lengthy prison terms.

As far as Miss Potter was concerned, the coming autumn brought many good things. She had, of course, to get through the difficult time at the end of August—the anniversary of Norman Warne’s death. The sharp grief was still there, and the sense that she had lost her only chance to marry the man she loved. But the pain was blunted somewhat by the passage of time and the continued challenges of Hill Top Farm. In September, the plumber put the pipes at the wrong end of the kitchen, but the problem was put right easily enough after she pointed it out. The joiner and plasterer finished the interior of the new addition, and the good weather held long enough to get the roof-ridge put on. It was also dry enough to get the garden dug, and she bought some new bushes at the nursery at Windermere and planted lavender and violets and sweet William. Mr. Jennings purchased fourteen more Herdwick ewes, bringing her flock to sixteen, so there would be a fine crop of lambs in the spring. Miss Potter, with Caroline and Jeremy, helped him cut bracken in the moor and haul it down in the pony cart to use as bedding in the barn.

The news from Miss Potter’s publisher continued to be good.
The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher,
published in July, went into a second printing in September. And after a great deal of putting off, Miss Potter at last finished the drawings for
The Tale of Tom Kitten
. The next book, she had decided, would be about the rude and unruly rats who had invaded the Hill Top attic.

The story would involve a kitten who was put into a pudding, and dog (greatly resembling Rascal) who rescued him.

She would call it
The Roly-Poly Pudding.