Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Hullo, Billy!” And Billy Blunt blew “Hullo!” into his mouth-organ (at least, Milly-Molly-Mandy guessed it was that), and went on playing.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy waited a bit and listened, and suddenly she found she knew what he was playing. “It’s Good King Wenceslas!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “Isn’t it? Can I have a go soon?”

  “I’m practising,” said Billy Blunt, stopping for a moment and then going on again.

  “Practising what?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Carols,” said Billy Blunt.

  “What for?” said Milly-Molly-Mandy.

  “Don’t know,” said Billy Blunt, “only it’s Christmas time.”

  “Then we could go caroling!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, with a sudden thought. “You could play on your mouth-organ, and I could sing. We could do it outside people’s houses on Christmas Eve. Ooh, let’s!”

  But Billy Blunt only said “Huh!” and went on blowing his mouth-organ. But he did it rather thoughtfully.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy waited a bit longer, and then she was just going to say good-bye when Billy Blunt said, “Here! You can have a go if you want to.”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy, very pleased, took the mouth organ and wiped it on her skirt, and had quite a good “go” (and Billy Blunt knew she was playing God Save the King). And then she wiped it again and gave it back saying, “Good-bye, Billy. Don’t forget about the carol-singing,” and went on homeward up the white road with the hedges each side.

  A few days later (it was the day before Christmas Eve) Billy Blunt came up to the nice white cottage with the thatched roof, where Milly-Molly-Mandy lived, to bring a bag of meal which Uncle had ordered from Mr Blunt’s corn-shop for his chickens. Milly-Molly-Mandy was watching Father cut branches of holly from the holly-tree; but when she saw Billy Blunt she thought of the carols, and came running down to the path.

  “I say,” said Billy Blunt. “About that carol-singing.”

  “Yes!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Have you been practising hard?”

  “Mmm,” said Billy Blunt, “I thought we might try ’em over now, if you’re still keen on it. Where’ll we do it?”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy led the way to the barn; and there in private they made plans and tried over one or two songs. They couldn’t do Hark the Herald Angels Sing or Christians Awake, as the top notes in both of them went beyond the top of the mouth-organ and Billy Blunt wouldn’t sing the top notes, because he said it didn’t sound proper. But he could play Noël and While Shepherds Watched and Wenceslas beautifully. So Milly-Molly-Mandy sang while Billy Blunt played, until they could do it together quite nicely.

  “I’ll have to ask Mother first if I may,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy then. So they went round the back way into the kitchen, where Mother and Grandma and Aunty were mixing the Christmas pudding, and Milly-Molly-Mandy asked her question.

  Just at first Mother looked a little doubtful. And then she said, “You know Christmas-time is giving time. If you don’t mean to knock at the doors and sing for money—”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “No, we won’t.”

  “Why, that would be very nice, then,” said Mother, “if you do it as nicely as ever you can.”

  “We’ll do it our very best, just for love,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy; and Billy Blunt nodded. Then Mother gave them some almonds and bits of peel-sugar, and then Billy Blunt had to go back.

  The next day, directly tea was over, Milly-Molly-Mandy, very excited, slipped out of the house in her coat and muffler, and ran down to the gate to look for Billy Blunt.

  It was very dark. Presently she saw a bicycle lamp coming along the road. It was jogging up and down in a queer way for a bicycle. And then as it came near it started waving to and fro, and Milly-Molly-Mandy guessed there must be Billy Blunt with it; and she skipped up and down outside the gate, because it did look so exciting and Christmassy!

  “You ready? Come on,” said Billy Blunt, and the two of them set off down the road.

  Soon they came to the Moggses’ cottage, and began their carols. At the end of the first song little-friend-Susan’s head peered from behind the window curtain and in the middle of the second she came rushing out of the door, saying, “Oh, wait a bit while I get my hat and coat on, and let me join!”

  And Mrs Moggs called from inside, “Susan, bring them in quickly and shut that door, you’re chilling the house!”

  So they hurried inside and shut the door; and there was Mrs Moggs sitting by the fire with Baby Moggs in her lap, and Mr Moggs was fixing a bunch of holly over the mantelpiece. Mrs Moggs gave them each a lump of toffee, and then Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt with little-friend-Susan went off to their caroling.

  When they came to the village they meant to sing outside Mr Blunt’s corn-shop, and Miss Muggins’s draper’s shop; but all the little shop-windows were so brightly lit up it made them feel shy.

  People were going in and out of Mr Smale the Grocer’s shop, and Mrs Hubble the Baker’s shop, and sometimes they stopped to look in Miss Muggins’s window (which was showing a lot of gay little penny toys and strings of tinsel balls, as well as gloves and handkerchiefs).

  Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Let’s wait!” and Billy Blunt said, “Come on!” So they turned into the dark lane by the forge.

  They heard the cling-clang of a hammer banging on the anvil. And Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Let’s sing to Mr Rudge!” So they went up to the half-open door of the forge.

  Billy Blunt blew a little note on the mouth-organ, and they started on their carol.

  By the end of the first verse the Blacksmith was bringing his hammer down in time to the music, and it sounded just like a big bell chiming; and then he began joining in, in a big humming sort of voice. And when they finished he shouted out, “Come on in and give us some more!”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy and Billy Blunt and little-friend-Susan came in out of the dark.

  It was lovely in the forge, so warm and full of strange shadows and burnt-leathery sort of smells. They had a warm-up by the fire, and then began another song. And the Blacksmith sang and hammered all to time; and it sounded – as Mr Jakes the Postman popped his head in to say – “real nice and Christmassy!”

  “Go on, give us some more, ’” said the Blacksmith, burying his horseshoe in the fire again to make it hot so that he could punch nail-holes in it.

  “We can’t do many more,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “because the mouth-organ isn’t quite big enough.”

  “Oh, never mind that,” said the Blacksmith. “Go on, William, give us Hark the Herald Angels Sing!”

  They started on their carol

  So Billy Blunt grinned and struck up, and everybody joined in so lustily that nobody noticed the missing top notes. While they were in the middle of it the door creaked open a little wider, and Miss Muggins’s Jilly slipped in to join the fun; and later on Mr and Mrs Blunt strolled over (when they had shut up shop); and then Mr Critch the Thatcher. And soon it seemed as if half the village were in and round the old forge, singing away, song after song, while the Blacksmith hammered like big bells on his anvil, and got all his horseshoes finished in good time before the holidays.

  Presently who should come in but Father! He had been standing outside for quite a time, listening with Mother and Uncle and Aunty and Mr Moggs (they had all strolled down to see what their children were up to, and stopped to join the singing).

  But soon Mother beckoned to Milly-Molly-Mandy from behind Father’s shoulder, and Miss Muggins peeped round the door and beckoned to Billy Blunt, and Mr Moggs to little-friend-Susan. They knew that meant bed, but for once they didn’t much mind, because it would make Christmas come all the sooner!

  So the carols came to an end, and the Blacksmith called out, “What about passing the hat for the carollers!”

  But Billy Blunt said with a grin, “You sang, too – louder than we did!”

  And little-friend-Susan said, “Everybody sang!”

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “We did it for love – all of us!”

  And everybody said, “So we did, now!” and wished everybody else “Happy Christmas!”

  And then Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Good night, see you tomorrow!” to Billy Blunt, and went skipping off home to bed, holding on to Father’s hand through the dark.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Keeps House

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy was left one evening in the nice white cottage with the thatched roof to keep house.

  There was something called a political meeting being held in the next village (Milly-Molly-Mandy didn’t know quite what that meant, but it was something to do with voting, which was something you had to do when you grew up), and Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty all thought they ought to go to it.

  Milly-Molly-Mandy said she would not mind one bit being left, especially if she could have little-friend-Susan in to keep her company.

  So Mother said, “Very well, then, Milly-Molly-Mandy, we’ll have little-friend-Susan in to keep you company. And you needn’t open the door if anyone knocks unless you know who it is. And I’ll leave you out some supper, in case we may be a little late getting back.”

  Little-friend-Susan was only too pleased to come and spend the evening with Milly-Molly-Mandy. So after tea she came in; and then Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty put on their hats and coats, and said goodbye, and went off.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan shut the door carefully after them, and there they were, all by themselves, keeping house!

  “What fun!” said little-friend-Susan. “What’ll we do?”

  “Well,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “if we’re house-keepers I think we ought to wear aprons.”

  So they each tied on one of Mother’s aprons.

  And then little-friend-Susan said, “Now if we’ve got aprons on we ought to work.”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy fetched a dustpan and brush and swept up some crumbs from the floor; and little-friend-Susan folded the newspaper that was lying all anyhow by Grandpa’s chair and put it neatly on the shelf. And then they banged the cushions and straightened the chairs, feeling very housekeeperish indeed.

  Then little-friend-Susan looked at the plates of bread-and-dripping on the table, with the jug of milk and two little mugs. And she said, “What’s that for?”

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “That’s for our supper. But it isn’t time to eat it yet. Mother says we can warm the milk on the stove, if we like, in a saucepan.”

  “What fun!” said little-friend-Susan. “Then we’ll be cooks. Couldn’t we do something to the bread-and-dripping too?”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy looked at the bread-and-dripping thoughtfully, and then she said, “We could toast it – at the fire!”

  “Oh, yes!” said little-friend-Susan. And then she said, “Oughtn’t we to begin doing it now? It takes quite a long time to cook things.”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy said, “Let’s!” and fetched a saucepan, and little-friend-Susan took up the jug of milk, and then – suddenly – “Bang-bang-bang!” went the door knocker, ever so loudly.

  “Ooh!” said little-friend-Susan, “that did make me jump! I wonder who it is!”

  “Ooh!” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “We mustn’t open the door unless we know. I wonder who it can be!”

  So together they went to the door, and Milly-Molly-Mandy put her mouth to the letter-box and said politely, “Please, who are you, please?”

  Nobody spoke for a moment; and then a funny sort of voice outside said very gruffly, “I’m Mr Snooks.”

  And directly they heard that Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan looked at each other and said both together – “It’s Billy Blunt!” And they unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  And there was Billy Blunt standing grinning on the doorstep!

  Milly-Molly-Mandy held the door wide for him to come in, and she said, “Did you think we didn’t know you?”

  And little-friend-Susan said, “You did give us a jump!” And Billy Blunt came in, grinning all over his face.

  “We’re all alone said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “We’re keeping house.”

  “Look at our aprons,” said little-friend-Susan. “We’re going to cook our suppers.”

  “Come on,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy, “and we’ll give you some. May you stop?”

  Billy Blunt let them pull him into the kitchen, and then he said he’d seen Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty as they went past the corn-shop to the crossroads, and Mother had told him they were alone, and that he could go and have a game with them if he liked. So he thought he’d come and give them a jump.

  “Take your coat off, because it’s hot in here,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “Now we must get on with the cooking. Come on, Susan!”

  So they put the milk into the saucepan on the back of the stove, and then they each took a piece of bread-and-dripping on a fork, to toast it.

  But it wasn’t a very good “toasting fire” (or else there were too many people trying to toast at the same time). Billy Blunt began to think it was rather long to wait, and he looked at the frying-pan on the side of the stove (in which Mother always cooked the breakfast bacon), and said, “Why not put ’em in there and fry ’em up?”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan thought that was a splendid idea; so they fried all the bread-and-dripping nice and brown (and it did smell good!). When they had done it there was just a little fat left in the pan, so they looked round for something else to cook.

  “I’ll go and see if there’re any odd bits of bread in the bread-crock,” said Milly-Molly-Mandy. “We mustn’t cut any, because I’m not allowed to use the bread-knife yet.”

  So she went into the scullery to look, and there were one or two dry pieces in the bread-crock. But she found something else, and that was – a big basket of onions! Then Milly-Molly-Mandy gave a little squeal because she had a good idea, and she took out a small onion (she knew she might, because they had lots, and Father grew them) and ran back into the kitchen with it.

  And Billy Blunt, with his scout’s knife, peeled it and sliced it into the pan (and the onion made him cry like anything!); and then Milly-Molly-Mandy fried it on the stove (and the onion made her cry like anything!) and then little-friend-Susan, who didn’t want to be out of any fun, stirred it up, with her head well over the pan (and the onion made her cry like anything too! – at least, she managed to get one small tear out).

  And the onion smelt most delicious, all over the kitchen – only it would seem to cook all black or else not at all. But you can’t think how good it tasted, spread on slices of fried bread!

  They all sat on the hearthrug before the fire, with plates on their laps and mugs by their sides, and divided everything as evenly as possible. And they only wished there was more of everything (for of course Mother hadn’t thought of Billy Blunt when she cut the bread-and-dripping).

  And the onion smelt most delicious!

  When they had just finished the last crumb the door opened and Father and Mother and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Aunty came in. And they all said together, “Whatever’s all this smell of fried onions?”

  So Milly-Molly-Mandy explained, and when Mother had looked at the frying-pan to see that it wasn’t burnt (and it wasn’t) she only laughed and opened the window.

  And Father said, “Well, this smell makes me feel very hungry. Can’t we have some fried onions for supper too, Mother?”

  Then, before Father took little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt home, Mother gave them all a piece of currant cake with which to finish their supper; and then she started frying a panful of onions for the grown-up supper.

  And Milly-Molly-Mandy (when she had said goodbye to little-friend-Susan and Billy Blunt) watched Mother very carefully, so that she should know how to fry quite properly next time she was left to keep house!

  Milly-Molly-Mandy Makes a Cosy

  Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy went out visiting, in her best hat and new shoes and white cotton gloves. Milly-Molly-Mandy felt very proper indeed. She walked down the road, past the Moggses’ cottage, past Mr Blunt’s corn-shop, till she came to Miss Muggins’s small shop. For Milly-Molly-Mandy was going to tea with Miss Muggins and her little niece, Jilly.

  Miss Muggins’s shop and the passage behind smelt so interesting – like calico and flannelette and brown paper, with faint whiffs of peppermint and raspberry-drops. (For Miss Muggins sold a few sweets too, from bottles on a shelf in her window.)

  But the little sitting-room at the back of the shop smelt most of warm buttered scones and sugary cakes, for the table was all laid ready, and Miss Muggins and Jilly were waiting for her. And over the teapot in front of Miss Muggins was a most beautiful cosy, all made of odd-shaped pieces of bright-coloured silks and velvets, with loops of coloured cord on top. Milly-Molly-Mandy did like it!

  After Milly-Molly-Mandy had eaten two buttered scones she couldn’t help saying, “Isn’t that a beautiful cosy!”

  And Jilly said, “Aunty made it!”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy thought how nice it would be to have such a beautiful cosy on the table at home.

  When she had eaten a pink sugary cake she said, “Wasn’t that cosy very difficult to make?”

  She couldn’t help saying, “Isn’t that a beautiful cosy!”

  And Miss Muggins (who had just come back from serving a lady with a card of linen buttons and some black elastic) said, “Oh, no, it was quite easy! You ought to get your aunty to teach you feather-stitching, Milly-Molly-Mandy, so that you could make one!”

  Milly-Molly-Mandy thought how nice it would be to make Mother such a beautiful cosy, but she didn’t know how she could get the stuffs.

 

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