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"Yes, I picked------" began Mr. Gubbs, but another voice interrupted him. "He took them from the cherry stall," said the voice. "Oh, he's clever, he is!"

"Pooh—call that clever?" said another voice. "I call it cunning-sly and cunning!"

Mr. Gubbs was extremely startled. He looked all round for the talkers, but there was no one near except the two children, and
they
were looking most astonished. They gave him back the cherries at once and ran off.

"Now look here—who said that?" began Mr. Gubbs and heard a queer husky laugh somewhere near. It came from the tongue of his right shoe, but he didn't guess that, of course.

He went on his way, feeling puzzled and soon met Mr. Burly, the farmer.

"Hallo, Gubbs!" said the farmer. "Do you want to buy fresh farm butter. Go to my stall and—

"He doesn't want any," said a small voice, loudly. "He's got some in his pocket—it's a bit squashy."

"He took it from Mrs. Plump's stall when she wasn't looking," said another voice. "Oh, he's an artful one! He wants watching!"

"Er—good morning," said Mr. Gubbs to the astonished farmer and hurried off, his face flaming red.
Who
was it talking about him like this?

He looked behind him. Was it some irritating children who had been following him? No—there was nobody near.

Old Lady Smiles came bustling up. "Oh, good morning, Gubbs.

My word, that's a beautiful rose you have in your buttonhole. What's its name?"

"Er —I think it's called Beauty," said Mr. Gubbs. "I—er—picked it from my garden this------"

"He picked it off Miss Jinky's best rosebush when he passed by her garden this morning," said a little voice, quite clearly. "Nobody was looking."

"You can't believe a word he says!" said the second voice. "Not a single word. Horrid old Gubby!"

The other shoe-tongue gave its husky little laugh. "What about his blue silk hanky? I saw him take it out of Mr. Jaunty's pocket. Did you?"

"Oh yes! I've just as good a view as you have of all his goings-on,"

said the other shoe-tongue. "I remember when------"

"Good morning to you, Gubbs," said Lady Smiles, stiffly. "I don't know if you can hear what I can hear—but I must say that I think it's all very extraordinary.
Good
morning!"

It soon got round that there was something peculiar about Mr., Gubbs that morning, and to his great disgust one person after another came up—just when he didn't want them! He must, he really
must
find out about those voices! As for the shoe-tongues, they had a perfectly marvellous time!

"Look—there's Mrs. Grocer coming—she doesn't guess that old Gubby took a tin of biscuits from her shop last week! Hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"And here comes old Mr. Whoosh. What would he say if he knew that Gubby took his tin of tobacco and popped it into his pocket, when he went calling on him the other day?" said the other tongue. "It's no good his asking for it back either—it's all gone up in smoke!"

"Hoo-hoo-hoo!" laughed the other voice, "You are very funny this morning. Ooooh, I say, look—here comes the policeman—and Gubby doesn't like the look of him!"

Indeed Gubby didn't! He was now so scared of what the extraordinary voices were saying, that all he wanted to do was to run back home, shut his door and hide. But the policeman had been very, very interested in some of the things that the market-folk had told him about Mr.

Gubbs, and he wanted to make a few inquiries.

Gubby began to walk away quickly, and the voices shouted loudly,

"He's scared! He knows he's got that butter in his pocket!"

"And his socks belong to Mrs. Jinky's husband—he took them off the line the other night!"

"And he took the vest he's wearing, too! And what about his watch? 

GUBBY RAN OUT INTO THE BACK-YARD AND THREW HIS SHOES INTO THE 
DUST-BIN.

Wouldn't the policeman like to know about that! Hoo-hoo-hoo!"

Mr. Gubbs took to his heels and ran, panting hard, hoping that the policeman hadn't heard a word. If only he could leave those voices behind!

They must be somewhere in the market, nasty, mysterious voices. Once he got home he wouldn't hear them any more.

But he did, of course! As soon as he was indoors and the door shut, he sat down, out-of-breath—and the first voice began again.

"He can run fast, can't he? My word, I got quite giddy, going up and down, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. We shall have some more fun soon, though—the policeman will be along, and a few others. Old Gubby's going to get what he deserves at last, the mean old fellow. I never did like him, did you?"

"Why—it's my
shoes!"
shouted Gubby, and he took them off and ran out into the back-yard. He took off the dust-bin lid and threw in the shoes. Then back he went and put on his slippers. They had no tongues, thank goodness!

But it's no good, Gubby. There's a tramping down the street, and soon there will be a knocking at your door! You'll have to answer some very awkward questions, and when your house is searched you will find yourself marched off to the police-station. So shiver in your slippers, Gubby—the time has nearly come. Ah—rat-a-tat-TAT!

Sooty, Mr. Pink-Whistle's cat, was longing to know all that had happened, and he was very glad to see Whiskers coming along the next day, looking as if he were bursting with news.

"Sit down. Tell me everything!" said Sooty, and Whiskers began. He told the whole story—he related everything that the shoe-tongues had said, and he told how Gubby had at last been found out and taken to prison.

"How do you know all this?" asked Sooty, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Did you follow Gubby to market?"

"No. But, you see, he threw the shoes into the dust-bin and I heard them talking to each other there, and went to rescue them. I took them out of the dust-bin and they told me everything that had happened—every word they had said, and I laughed till my whiskers nearly fell off!"

"Where are they now?" said Sooty.

"Oh, they thought Mr. Pink-Whistle might like to lend them to someone else some day," said Whiskers. "So they walked here with me.

They're outside the door. Thanks very much, Sooty, for helping to put a wrong right all by yourself. My mistress has got back her ebony stick and she is very happy."

And off went Whiskers, grinning, very pleased with himself. "Goodbye," said a. shoe-tongue as he passed the shoes. "You certainly did us a good turn when you rubbed that blue-green polish into us—we've never had such a fine time in our lives. Thank goodness we don't belong to Mr.

Gubbs any more."

"Nasty old Gubby! Hoo-hoo-hoo!" said the other tongue.

THE END

Printed by Cahill & Co. Ltd., in the Republic of Ireland, at Parkgate Printing Works, Dublin
8, for the publishers, George Newnes, Ltd:, Tower House, Southampton Street, London, W.C.2.
(C) 81

SMcG

BOOK: Enid Blyton
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