Anytime Tales (9 page)

“I’ve just thought of something!” said Mrs. Johns, beaming. “See that old red cushion behind you, Miss Eileen? Well, the inside of it is down! My old mother, she used to keep ducks, and she stuffed two pillows and a cushion with down. It’s as soft as can be, that cushion. You take it for your mother.”

“Oh—but I couldn’t take your cushion!” said Eileen. “And I have already told you that I’ve only got two and sevenpence saved up.”

“Well, now, I’ll tell you what to do with that money!” said Mrs. Johns. “You spend it on some stuff to make a pretty new cover! You can easily get some at the village shop. You can rip away that old red cover—it’s shabby and faded and the edging is ragged. Then you can make a new cover and slip it on and sew

it up!”

“Oh!” said Eileen, delighted. “Yes, I could. Oh,~~Mrs. Johns—it’s a lovely idea! But you shouldn’t really give me your down cushion, I know you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, and who spent their money on buying me peppermint drops, I should like to know?” said Mrs.

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Johns. “And who gave me the best teapot out of her doll’s tea-set? And who …?”

Eileen laughed. “Those were only little things,” she said.

“And so is this only a little thing,” said Mrs. Johns. “You let me do a bit of kindness, too—it’s not often I can, a poor old woman like me! Now you take that old red cushion home with you and on the way buy a nice bit of stuff to cover it with. Then you can rip off the old cover and put on the new one—and your mother will have a nice soft cushion for her poor back tomorrow!”

“Thank
you,” said Eileen, and took up the old cushion. “I must go now. I’ll come and tell you whether I have made the cushion look nice or not in a day or two! And I hope you won’t have to turn out of your dear little cottage!”

“Ah well, I’m praying it won’t be so,” said the old woman. “It’s nice to have your own little place when you’re old.”

On the way home Eileen bought some pretty red and blue stuff to make a new cushion cover. She felt

very pleased. Kind old Mrs. Johns! Now Mother could have a really soft cushion.

At home that night Eileen set to work. She undid the old cover and slipped it off. Underneath was another cover, older still! It was a dirty green. Eileen took that

off, too.

“Oh dear—there’s yet another one!” she said in dismay. “People have just put new covers on over the old ones—what a funny idea!”

As she was taking off the third old cover, something crackled underneath. Eileen felt it. It seemed like paper of some sort. How queer!

She took off the third cover—and there, sewn into a kind of pocket on the fourth cover, was a thin bundle of papers! The little girl pulled them out.

They were pound notes! Eileen stared at them in the greatest surprise. “Pound notes! Heaps of them! Whoever put them there?” she said in surprise. “Gracious, I wonder if Mrs. Johns knows about these! I wonder if it’s too late to go and tell her.”

Eileen was so excited that she slipped out of the house straight away and ran down to the village. Mrs. Johns was most surprised to see her.

“Mrs. Johns! Look what I’ve found inside your old red cushion!” cried Eileen. “First there was the red cover, then there was a green one and then a third one—and sewn in a kind of pocket on the fourth cover were these pound notes!”

“Pound notes—heaps of them!” said old Mrs. Johns. “So that’s what happened to my old mother’s savings! She always did say she’d hidden them away

safely—but nobody knew where. And when she died, very suddenly, we could never find them.”

“So they belong to
you!
Oh, Mrs. Johns, now you won’t have to leave your little cottage, will you?” cried Eileen. “You will have plenty of money to pay more rent.”

“So I shall, so I shall,” said the old woman, and a tear ran down her cheek. “To think of such a thing! Oh, Miss Eileen, it was the kind thought you had for your mother that’s brought all this good luck!”

“No, no—it was
your
kindness in giving me your down cushion!” cried Eileen. “Oh, I’m so glad for you, Mrs. Johns.”

“Now you take two pounds of this,” said Mrs. Johns. “You buy a fine present for your mother—and one for yourself!”

“Oh no!” said Eileen. “That’s a lot money!”

“I feel rich now,” said Mrs. Johns. “I can repay my friends for the kindnesses they’ve so often shown me. And it’s a wonderful feeling to return a bit of kindness, Miss Eileen. You take the money now, straight away, and give me a bit of pleasure to-night, thinking of the fine presents you’ll buy!”

But Eileen would only take one pound note, to spend on her mother. She would spend it on fruit and books. She sped home to tell her mother all about it.

She finished covering the cushion. It was so soft— exactly what her mother wanted behind her back!

“It’s really lovely, dear,” said Mother, leaning back

on it. “Just right. Thank you so much for covering it

for me so beautifully! And now I must write a little note to thank Mrs. Johns for her kindness to me! I really can’t let her give you a pound to spend on me, poor old lady!”

But Eileen did spend it on her mother, and how she enjoyed it! She bought her grapes one day and a peach the next, and a new book the next, and a magazine the next. How nice it was to feel really extravagant like that!

Mrs. Johns didn’t have to move, of course. She had plenty of money now to pay more rent. Eileen went to see her the next week, and there, sitting on the sofa, was the biggest doll she had ever seen!

“Oh, what a beauty!” she said. “Is it for one of your great-nieces, Mrs. Johns?”

“It’s for a little girl I know,” said Mrs. Johns. “I’ve called the doll Eileen, after the little girl! It can shut and open its eyes, and all its clothes come off, right down to its vest. And look at its real eyelashes and its tiny fingernails! You’ll be her mother, Eileen, so see you look after her well!”

What do you think of that? Eileen could hardly believe it. She picked up the doll and nursed her. “I don’t deserve you,” she said. “I really don’t!”

But Mrs. Johns said she did—and I agree with her, don’t you?

Jennifer woke up with a jump. She sat up in bed. Goodness gracious! What was all that noise?

She reached over to her brother’s bed and woke him, too. “Benjy! Wake up! There’s such a noise!”

Benjy sat up in alarm. Bells were ringing, someone was blowing a trumpet, and there was the noise of gongs being banged loudly.

“Oh, Jennifer—how silly of us! It’s the people welcoming in the New Year,” said Benjy at last. “You know Mummy told us—everyone was going to ring bells and bang gongs at midnight.”

“So she did—and I’d quite forgotten,” said Jennifer. “Goodness, I was awfully frightened.”

She got out of bed and leaned out of the window with her eiderdown round her. “There are lights everywhere—people with lamps and lanterns. And there’s Mr. Brown banging his gong—and I do believe that’s Mr. Trent blowing a trumpet—how queer in the middle of the night.”

Then she jumped in fright, because a low voice spoke almost in her ear. “Excuse me—may I come in

for a minute? They think they’re welcoming me in, but really I feel rather scared!”

Jennifer drew back, wondering and a little alarmed. Who was sitting in the tree outside her window? She soon knew.

In came someone who looked like a small child, with fair curly hair and a white robe to his knees with a girdle round his waist. Benjy stared at him in surprise.

“Why—you’re just like the picture of the little New Year I saw in the papers yesterday,” he said.

“I
am
the little New Year,” said the child-like creature. “I’m young now—but if you saw me next Christmas you’d think I was as old as Santa Claus. It only takes twelve months for me to grow from a little New Year to a poor bent Old Year. Oh dear—to think of all the things that are going to happen in my twelve months!”

“Do you
know
what’s going to happen, then?” asked Jennifer, in surprise. “Look—wrap this eiderdown round you. You’ll be cold.”

“Oh no—I’m not cold,” said the little fellow, and he sat down at the end of the bed. “Well—I don’t know
exactly
what’s going to happen—but I daresay my magic mirror does.”

“Magic mirror! Have you a magic mirror?” cried Benjy. “Let me see it. What will it show me? All the things that will happen next year?”

“Perhaps,” said the little New Year. He took a small, round mirror from his clothes and held it up to the children. “This is it. If you look into it, it will show you happenings in your New Year.”

“Oh—do let’s look,” said Jennifer, and she peered into it excitedly. “You look, too, Benjy. We’ll look together. Isn’t it queer? It shines so brightly, and yet when we look into it it isn’t like looking into a mirror— it’s like looking through a window.” Jennifer gave a squeal.

“Oh, Benjy—I can see you in the mirror—you’re sliding on the ice—oh, you’ve gone in—the ice is cracked and you’ve fallen in. Benjy, Benjy, what’s happening to you?”

The picture faded away. Benjy looked worried. Another picture came. This time it was of Jennifer— and, oh dear, she was in bed with spots all over her face. She looked very miserable indeed.

“Oh, look—there’s you, Jenny—and you’re ill in bed with measles or something,” said Benjy. “I don’t like it.”

Another picture came—of Benjy and Jennifer together—and they were being chased by an angry man who looked like a farmer! Oh dear, this was worse and worse.

Other pictures came—of Benjy crying big tears, and holding a letter in his hand to say he hadn’t won the scholarship he so much wanted. And then there was one of Jenny in party clothes having her hand bandaged—and, oh dear, her lovely dress was scorched and burned, and she was crying bitterly.

“Oh, don’t show us any more,” she said. “I can’t bear it. All the pictures are terrible. Surely all those dreadful things aren’t going to happen to us?”

“Well—they
may”
said the little New Year. He had

been watching the mirror, too. “They needn’t, of course. It all depends on yourselves. For instance, Benjy certainly won’t fall in the pond if he obeys his father and doesn’t slide on the ice till he’s told he can.”