E. Nesbit – The Railway Children (страница 11)
‘Yes,’ said Bobbie, ‘but you’d have to be a jolly good shot.’
‘How do you know I’m not?’ said the Doctor. ‘Now, then, what’s the trouble?’
Bobbie fidgeted with the hook of the driving apron.
‘Come, out with it,’ said the Doctor.
‘It’s rather hard, you see,’ said Bobbie, ‘to out with it; because of what Mother said.’
‘What
‘She said I wasn’t to go telling everyone that we’re poor. But you aren’t everyone, are you?’
‘Not at all,’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘Well?’
‘Well, I know doctors are very extravagant – I mean expensive, and Mrs Viney told me that her doctoring only cost her twopence a week because she belonged to a Club.’
‘Yes?’
‘You see she told me what a good doctor you were, and I asked her how she could afford you, because she’s much poorer than we are. I’ve been in her house and I know. And then she told me about the Club, and I thought I’d ask you – and – oh, I don’t want Mother to be worried! Can’t we be in the Club, too, the same as Mrs Viney?’
The Doctor was silent. He was rather poor himself, and he had been pleased at getting a new family to attend. So I think his feelings at that minute were rather mixed.
‘You aren’t cross with me, are you?’ said Bobbie, in a very small voice.
The Doctor roused himself.
‘Cross? How could I be? You’re a very sensible little woman. Now look here, don’t you worry. I’ll make it all right with your Mother, even if I have to make a special brand-new Club all for her. Look here, this is where the Aqueduct begins.’
‘What’s an Aque – what’s its name?’ asked Bobbie.
‘A water bridge,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look.’
The road rose to a bridge over the canal. To the left was a steep rocky cliff with trees and shrubs growing in the cracks of the rock. And the canal here left off running along the top of the hill and started to run on a bridge of its own – a great bridge with tall arches that went right across the valley.
Bobbie drew a long breath.
‘It
‘Right!’ said the Doctor, ‘that’s just exactly what it
‘I thought engineering was making engines.’
‘Ah, there are different sorts of engineering – making roads and bridges and tunnels is one kind. And making fortifications is another. Well, we must be turning back. And, remember, you aren’t to worry about doctor’s bills or you’ll be ill yourself, and then I’ll send you a bill as long as the aqueduct.’
When Bobbie had parted from the Doctor at the top of the field that ran down from the road to Three Chimneys, she could not feel that she had done wrong. She knew that Mother would perhaps think differently. But Bobbie felt that for once she was the one who was right, and she scrambled down the rocky slope with a really happy feeling.
Phyllis and Peter met her at the back door. They were unnaturally clean and neat, and Phyllis had a red bow in her hair. There was only just time for Bobbie to make herself tidy and tie up her hair with a blue bow before a little bell rang.
‘There!’ said Phyllis, ‘that’s to show the surprise is ready. Now you wait till the bell rings again and then you may come into the dining-room.’
So Bobbie waited.
‘Tinkle, tinkle,’ said the little bell, and Bobbie went into the dining-room, feeling rather shy. Directly she opened the door she found herself, as it seemed, in a new world of light and flowers and singing. Mother and Peter and Phyllis were standing in a row at the end of the table. The shutters were shut and there were twelve candles on the table, one for each of Roberta’s years. The table was covered with a sort of pattern of flowers, and at Roberta’s place was a thick wreath of forget-me-nots and several most interesting little packages. And Mother and Phyllis and Peter were singing – to the first part of the tune of St Patrick’s Day. Roberta knew that Mother had written the words on purpose for her birthday. It was a little way of Mother’s on birthdays. It had begun on Bobbie’s fourth birthday when Phyllis was a baby. Bobbie remembered learning the verses to say to Father ‘for a surprise’. She wondered if Mother had remembered, too. The four-year-old verse had been:
The song the others were singing now went like this:
When they had finished singing they cried, ‘Three cheers for our Bobbie!’ and gave them very loudly. Bobbie felt exactly as though she were going to cry – you know that odd feeling in the bridge of your nose and the pricking in your eyelids? But before she had time to begin they were all kissing and hugging her.
‘Now,’ said Mother, ‘look at your presents.’
They were very nice presents. There was a green and red needle-book that Phyllis had made herself in secret moments. There was a darling little silver brooch of Mother’s shaped like a buttercup, which Bobbie had known and loved for years, but which she had never, never thought would come to be her very own. There was also a pair of blue glass vases from Mrs Viney. Roberta had seen and admired them in the village shop. And there were three birthday cards with pretty pictures and wishes.
Mother fitted the forget-me-not crown on Bobbie’s brown head.
‘And now look at the table,’ she said.
There was a cake on the table covered with white sugar, with ‘Dear Bobbie’ on it in pink sweets, and there were buns and jam; but the nicest thing was that the big table was almost covered with flowers – wallflowers were laid all round the tea-tray – there was a ring of forget-me-nots round each plate. The cake had a wreath of white lilac round it, and in the middle was something that looked like a pattern all done with single blooms of lilac or wallflower or laburnum.
‘What is it?’ asked Roberta.
‘It’s a map – a map of the railway!’ cried Peter. ‘Look – those lilac lines are the metals – and there’s the station done in brown wallflowers. The laburnum is the train, and there are the signal-boxes, and the road up to here – and those fat red daisies are us three waving to the old gentleman – that’s him, the pansy in the laburnum train.’
‘And there’s “Three Chimneys” done in the purple primroses,’ said Phyllis. ‘And that little tiny rose-bud is Mother looking for us when we’re late for tea. Peter invented it all, and we got all the flowers from the station. We thought you’d like it better.’
‘That’s my present,’ said Peter, suddenly dumping down his adored steam-engine on the table in front of her. Its tender had been lined with fresh white paper, and was full of sweets.