small. I suppose your mother kept them to look at, when you got bigger. Perhaps I should give them to somebody.”
“Can’t I keep them?”
“If you want to.”
“Did Mummy make them?”
“Like I said, women pass on a lot of stuff. You’ll see things go the rounds of umpteen different babies.Bassinets, prams, and cots. But, yes, all your baby clothes your mother made herself, before you were born.”
“For me?”
“She said you were always going to be special, her first baby, so she must have everything ready for you. By the time you were born, the drawers were so full, your mother said she was going to have to put several lots of clothes on you at once, or you’d grow out of them before they got any wear.”
I laughed. “Several lots. Was Mummy good at sewing?”
“She’d run up something on her sewing machine in the blink of an eye.”
“I wish I could sew.”
“Look at all the things you’ve made at school. You can darn socks, and knit. What about the blanket you sewed from peggy squares for Milly?”
“That’s not real sewing. Besides, Milly doesn’t like sleeping under it.”
“She likes sleeping on top of it though.”
“Dad, why are they called peggy squares?”
“After a girl down in Wellington, Peggy somebody or other. She made a blanket of them: it was in the paper, and the next thing, the idea caught on throughout the whole of the Dominion.”
“Was she the first?”
“That’s what the paper said.”
“I could make Bagheera a blanket. I wonder if he’s become a reliable cat?”
“I saw Mr Bluenose down at the shops, and he said to tell you that Bagheera’s a great hunter, like a black panther.”
“I might go down to the orchard tomorrow.”
“Take the basket to school with you, and you can go to the shops on your way home.”
Mr Bluenose was digging potatoes out of a clamp, to send off on the train.
“Bagheera? He is around somewhere. Give him a call. But he will only come if he wants to. He is—what do you say, Maggie?”
“Independent?”
“That is it, independent. I think you say he is a cat who knows his own mind.”
But I was already running through the orchard, between the rows of fruit trees, their pruned branches like tortured fingers.
“Bagheera! Bagheera!”
“Hello, Horse.” I stopped and patted him. Most of the pigs had gone, but the breeding sows oinked.
“Has anyone seen Bagheera?” I ran on.
Chapter Twenty
What I Told Mr Bryce About Bagheera and His First Rat, Why Mr Cleaver Said He’d Biff Dad One, and What Happened to the Last Bit of Sausage.
I’ D ALMOST GIVEN UP , then saw the entrance to the gloomy tunnel under the macrocarpa branches and ran in.
“Bagheera!”
Mr Bluenose’s pumpkins glowed red and yellow in the dark. Something moved, and my feet stuck to the ground as I remembered the ghost that once floated down the tunnel, and scared the living daylights out of Freddy Jones and Billy Harsant.
I thought of Kaa’s enormous mouth, stared into his eyes, and heard his terrible voice hiss: “Come one pace nearer to me.” I swayed forward one step, a piece of blackness moved out of the dark, and rubbed itself around my legs, and I shrieked.
“Bagheera!” His chin wasn’t as pointed, but his eyes were still bright green.
“You found him,” said Mr Bluenose’s voice.
I gulped.
“He likes having somebody to stroke him. Perhaps I do not make enough—enough fuss of him. But he is what I want.”
“A reliable cat?”
Mr Bluenose nodded. “Last week, he killed his first rat and dragged it inside to show me. Twice as long as himself.”
“Milly hasn’t caught anything yet.”
“She will.”
“I hope she doesn’t bring any rats inside.”
I called Bagheera a reliable cat, and he purred, like Mr Bluenose’s crosscut sawing through a log. “Milly purrs, Mr Bluenose, but she sounds like a little steam engine. She watches the chooks from on top of the shed, and her tail lashes. And Dad read me The Jungle
“Can’t I keep them?”
“If you want to.”
“Did Mummy make them?”
“Like I said, women pass on a lot of stuff. You’ll see things go the rounds of umpteen different babies.Bassinets, prams, and cots. But, yes, all your baby clothes your mother made herself, before you were born.”
“For me?”
“She said you were always going to be special, her first baby, so she must have everything ready for you. By the time you were born, the drawers were so full, your mother said she was going to have to put several lots of clothes on you at once, or you’d grow out of them before they got any wear.”
I laughed. “Several lots. Was Mummy good at sewing?”
“She’d run up something on her sewing machine in the blink of an eye.”
“I wish I could sew.”
“Look at all the things you’ve made at school. You can darn socks, and knit. What about the blanket you sewed from peggy squares for Milly?”
“That’s not real sewing. Besides, Milly doesn’t like sleeping under it.”
“She likes sleeping on top of it though.”
“Dad, why are they called peggy squares?”
“After a girl down in Wellington, Peggy somebody or other. She made a blanket of them: it was in the paper, and the next thing, the idea caught on throughout the whole of the Dominion.”
“Was she the first?”
“That’s what the paper said.”
“I could make Bagheera a blanket. I wonder if he’s become a reliable cat?”
“I saw Mr Bluenose down at the shops, and he said to tell you that Bagheera’s a great hunter, like a black panther.”
“I might go down to the orchard tomorrow.”
“Take the basket to school with you, and you can go to the shops on your way home.”
Mr Bluenose was digging potatoes out of a clamp, to send off on the train.
“Bagheera? He is around somewhere. Give him a call. But he will only come if he wants to. He is—what do you say, Maggie?”
“Independent?”
“That is it, independent. I think you say he is a cat who knows his own mind.”
But I was already running through the orchard, between the rows of fruit trees, their pruned branches like tortured fingers.
“Bagheera! Bagheera!”
“Hello, Horse.” I stopped and patted him. Most of the pigs had gone, but the breeding sows oinked.
“Has anyone seen Bagheera?” I ran on.
Chapter Twenty
What I Told Mr Bryce About Bagheera and His First Rat, Why Mr Cleaver Said He’d Biff Dad One, and What Happened to the Last Bit of Sausage.
I’ D ALMOST GIVEN UP , then saw the entrance to the gloomy tunnel under the macrocarpa branches and ran in.
“Bagheera!”
Mr Bluenose’s pumpkins glowed red and yellow in the dark. Something moved, and my feet stuck to the ground as I remembered the ghost that once floated down the tunnel, and scared the living daylights out of Freddy Jones and Billy Harsant.
I thought of Kaa’s enormous mouth, stared into his eyes, and heard his terrible voice hiss: “Come one pace nearer to me.” I swayed forward one step, a piece of blackness moved out of the dark, and rubbed itself around my legs, and I shrieked.
“Bagheera!” His chin wasn’t as pointed, but his eyes were still bright green.
“You found him,” said Mr Bluenose’s voice.
I gulped.
“He likes having somebody to stroke him. Perhaps I do not make enough—enough fuss of him. But he is what I want.”
“A reliable cat?”
Mr Bluenose nodded. “Last week, he killed his first rat and dragged it inside to show me. Twice as long as himself.”
“Milly hasn’t caught anything yet.”
“She will.”
“I hope she doesn’t bring any rats inside.”
I called Bagheera a reliable cat, and he purred, like Mr Bluenose’s crosscut sawing through a log. “Milly purrs, Mr Bluenose, but she sounds like a little steam engine. She watches the chooks from on top of the shed, and her tail lashes. And Dad read me The Jungle
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