The Phoenix And The Carpet, Chapter 8

In this latest episode of E Nesbit's children's classic, the children have to work out how to dispose of the policeman, the Persian cats, the musk rats - and another unwelcome visitor that the carpet brings into the nursery.

Transcript

Hello there. Welcome back to The Phoenix and the Carpet by E. Nesbitt. Thanks for joining me tonight and tonight we're going to be reading chapter eight, The Cats, The Cow and the Burglar. So go right ahead and make yourself really comfortable and I'll begin. The nursery was full of Persian cats and muskrats that had been brought there by the wishing carpet. The cats were mewing and the muskrats were squeaking so that you could hardly hear yourself speak. In the kitchen were the four children, One candle, A concealed phoenix and a very visible policeman. Now then, Look here, Said the policeman very loudly and he pointed his lantern at each child in turn. What's the meaning of this here yelling and catawarling? I tell you, You've got a cat here and someone's ill-treating of it. What do you mean by it, Eh? It was five to one, Counting the phoenix, But the policeman, Who was one, Was of unusually fine size and the five, Including the phoenix, Were small. The mews and the squeaks grew softer and in the comparative silence Cyril said, It's true, There are a few cats here, But we've not hurt them. It's quite the opposite. We've just fed them. It don't sound like it, Said the policeman grimly. I dare say they're not real cats, Said Jane madly. Perhaps they're only dream cats. I'll dream cat you, My lady, Was the brief response of the force. At this point the phoenix, Who had been making itself small on the pot-shelf under the dresser among the saucepan lids and the fish kettle, Walked on tiptoed claws in a noiseless and modest manner and left the room unnoticed by anyone. We love cats, Anthea said. We wouldn't hurt them for worlds. Jane echoed that of course they wouldn't, And still the policeman seemed unmoved by their eloquence. Now look here, He said. I'm going to see what's in that room beyond there. His voice was drowned in a wild burst of mewing and squeaking. Stow it, He said. I'm going into the next room in the execution of my duty. I'm going to use my eyes. My ears have gone off their chumps. What with them cats. And he pushed Robert aside and strode through the door. Don't say I didn't warn you, Said Robert. But the policeman was quite But the policeman was quite stony. Nothing anyone said seemed to make any difference to him. Some policemen are like this, I believe. He strode down the passage and in another moment he would have been in the room with all the cats and all the rats, Musk. But at that very instant a thin sharp voice screamed from the street outside. Murder! Murder! Stop thief! The policeman did stop, With one regulation boot heavily poised in the air. Huh? He said. And again the shrieks sounded shrilly and piercingly from the dark street outside. Come on, Said Robert. Come and look after cats while someone's being killed outside. For Robert had an inside feeling that told him quite plainly who it was that was screaming. You young rip, Said the policeman. I'll settle up with you by and by. But he rushed out and the children heard his boots going weightily along the pavement. And the screams also going along, Rather ahead of the policeman. And both the murder screams and the policeman's boots faded away in the remote distance. Robert smacked his knickerbocker loudly with his palm and the said, Good old Phoenix, I should know its golden voice anywhere. All hearts were filled with admiring affection. But the policeman will come back, Said Anthea mournfully, As soon as he finds the murderer is only a bright vision of a dream and there isn't one at all really. No he won't, Said the soft voice of the clever Phoenix as it flew in. He does not know where your house is. I heard him own as much to a fellow mercenary. Oh, What a night we are having. Lock the door and let us rid ourselves of this intolerable smell of the perfume peculiar to the musk rat and to the house of the trimmers of beards. If you'll excuse me, I will go to bed. I am worn out. It was Cyril who wrote the paper that told the carpet to take away the rats and bring milk, Because there seemed to be no doubt in any breast that however Persian cats may be, They must like milk. Let's hope it won't be musk milk, Said Anthea in gloom, As she pinned the paper face downwards on the carpet. The carpet shriveled and vanished. Perhaps really it would have been wiser to let the carpet take the cats away. It's getting quite late and we can't keep them all night. Oh can't we, Said Robert, Who had been fastening the side door. You might have consulted me, He went on. Why, Whatever. Don't you see, We've got to keep the cats all night. Oh get down, You furry beasts, Because we've had three wishes out of the carpet now and we can't get any more till tomorrow. The liveliness of Persian muse alone prevented the occurrence of a dismal silence. Anthea spoke first. Oh never mind, She said. Do you know, I really do think they're quieting down a bit. Perhaps they heard us say milk. They can't understand English, Said Jane. Oh pussies, Do be quiet, Said Anthea. Let's stroke them as hard as we can with both hands and perhaps they'll stop. So everyone stroked grey fur till their hands were tired, And the noise was down to half purr when the carpet suddenly appeared in its proper place, And on it, Instead of rows of milk cans or even milk jugs, There was a cow. A smooth, Sleek, Dun-coloured, Jersey cow who blinked large soft eyes at the gaslight and moved in an amiable, If inquiring, Manner. She was perfectly placid. She behaved like a straight Duchess till someone brought a saucer for the milk and someone else tried to milk her into it. Milking is very difficult. Robert and Cyril held the cow by the horns, And Jane, When she was quite sure that their end of the cow was secure, Consented to stand by, Ready to hold the cow by the tail should occasion arise. Anthea, Holding the saucer, Advanced towards the cow. She remembered that cows, When milked by strangers, Are susceptible to the soothing influence of the human voice, So clutching her saucer very tight, She sought for words to whose soothing influence the cow might be susceptible, And her memory, Troubled by the events of the night, Which seemed to go on and on forever and ever, Refused to help her with any form of words suitable to address a jersey cow in. Lie down then, Good dog, Lie down, Was all she could think of to say, So she said it, And nobody laughed. The situation, Full of grey mewing cats, Was too serious for that. Then Anthea, With a beating heart, Tried to milk the cow. Next moment the cow had knocked the saucer out of her hand and trampled on it with one foot, While with the other three she had walked on a foot each of Robert, Cyril and Jane. Jane burst into tears. Oh, How much too horrid everything is, She cried. Come away, Let's go to bed and leave the horrid cats with the hateful cow. Perhaps somebody will eat somebody else and serve them right. They didn't go to bed, But they had a shivering council in the drawing room, Which smelt of soot. There had been no fire in the room since mother went away, And all the chairs and tables were in the wrong places, And the chrysanthemums were dead. Anthea wrapped the embroidered woolly sofa blanket around Jane and herself, While Robert and Cyril had a struggle, Silent and brief, But fierce, For the larger share of the fur hearthrug. It is most truly awful, Said Anthea, And I am so tired. Let's let the cats loose. And the cow perhaps too, Said Cyril. The police would find us at once. That cow would stand at the gate and mew—I mean moo—to come in, And so would the cats. No, I see quite well what we've got to do. We must put them in baskets and leave them on people's doorsteps like orphan foundlings. We've got three baskets, Counting mother's work one, Said Jane, Brightening. And there are nearly two hundred cats, Said Anthea, Besides the cow, And it would have to be a different-sized basket for her, And then I don't know how you'd carry it, And you never find a doorstep big enough to put it on. Oh well, Said Cyril, If you simply make difficulties. I'm with you, Said Robert. Don't fuss about the cow, Panther. It's simply got to stay the night, And I'm sure I've read that the cow is a remunerating creature, And that means it will sit still and think for hours. The carpet can take it away in the morning, And as for the baskets, We'll do them up in dusters or pillowcases or bath-towels. Come on, Squirrel, You girls can be out of it if you like. His tone was full of contempt, But Jane and Anthea were too tired and desperate to care. They snuggled down in the sofa blanket, And Cyril drew the fur hearthrug over them. Ah, He said, That's all women are fit for, To keep safe and warm while the men do the work and run dangers and risks and things. I'm not, Said Anthea, You know I'm not. But Cyril was gone. It was warm under the blanket and the hearthrug, And Jane snuggled up close to her sister, And Anthea cuddled Jane closely and kindly, And in a sort of dream they heard the rise of a wave of mewing as Robert opened the door of the nursery. They heard the booted search for baskets in the back kitchen. They heard the side door open and close, And they knew that each brother had gone out with at least one cat. Anthea's last thought was that it would take at least all night to get rid of 199 cats by twos. There would be 99 journeys of two cats each, And one cat over. I almost think we might keep the one cat over, Said Anthea. I don't seem to care for cats just now, But I dare say I shall again one day, And she fell asleep. Jane also was sleeping. It was Jane, In fact, Who awoke with the start, To find Anthea asleep. There was a sound of muffled, Shuffled feet on the stairs. Jane crept gently from Anthea's side and followed the footsteps. They went down into the basement. The cats, Who seemed to have fallen into the sleep of exhaustion, Awoke at the sound of the approaching footsteps and mewed piteously. Jane was at the foot of the stairs before she saw it was not her brothers whose coming had roused her and the cats, But a burglar. She knew he was a burglar at once because he wore a fur cap and a red and black charity check comforter, And he had no business to be where he was. If you had been stood in Jane's shoes, You would no doubt have run away in them, Appealing to the police and neighbours with horrid screams. But Jane knew better. She had read a great many nice stories about burglars, As well as some affecting pieces of poetry, And she knew that no burglar will ever hurt a little girl if he meets her when burgling. In fact, In all the cases Jane had read of, His burglarishness was almost at once forgotten in the interest he felt in the little girl's artless prattle. So if Jane hesitated for a moment before addressing the burglar, It was only because she could not at once think of any remark sufficiently prattling and artless to make a beginning with. In the stories and the affecting poetry, The child could never speak plainly, Although it always looked old enough to in the pictures. And Jane couldn't make her mind up to lisp and talk baby, Even to a burglar. And while she hesitated, He softly opened the nursery door and went in. Jane followed, Just in time to see him sit down flat on the floor, Scattering cats as a stone thrown into a pool splashes water. She closed the door softly and stood there, Still wondering whether she could bring herself to say, What's who doing here, Whist the wobber, And whether any other kind of talk would do. Then she heard the burglar draw a long breath and he spoke. It's a judgment, He said, So help me Bob if it ain't. Cats and cats and cats. The cow turned and looked at him. Oh, Take him away, Please take him away. Burglar, Said Jane, Close behind him, And he started convulsively and turned on her a blank face, Whose pale lips trembled. I can't take those cats away. No, Lummy, Exclaimed the man, If here wasn't another of them. Are you real, Miss, Or something I'll wake up from presently? I am quite real, Said Jane, Relieved to find that a lisp was not needed to make the burglar understand her. And so, She added, Are the cats. Then send for the police, Send for the police, I'll go quiet. He ran his finger through his hair, Which was short, And his eyes wandered wildly around the room full of cats. Burglar, Said Jane, Kindly and softly, If you didn't like cats, What did you come here for? Send for the police, Was the unfortunate criminal's only reply. I'd rather you would, Honest, I'd rather. I don't, Said Jane, And besides I've no one to send. I hate the police. You've a feeling art, Miss, Said the burglar, But them cats is really a little bit too thick. Look here, Said Jane, I won't call the police, And I'm quite a real little girl, Though I talk older than the kind you've met before when you've been doing your burglings, And they are real cats, And they want real milk, And—do you know by any chance how to milk cows? Perhaps I does, Was the burglar's cautious rejoinder. Then, Said Jane, If you will only milk ours, You don't know how we shall always love you. The burglar replied that loving was all very well. If those cats only had a good long wet thirsty drink of milk, Jane went on, With eager persuasion, They'd lie down and go to sleep as likely as not, And then the policeman won't come back. But if they go on mewing like this, He will, And then, I don't know what'll become of us or you either. This argument seemed to decide the criminal. Jane fetched the washbowl from the sink, And he spat on his hands and prepared to milk the cow. At this instant boots were heard on the stairs. It's all up, Said the man desperately, Is the police. He made as if to open the window and leap from it. It's all right, I tell you, Whispered Jane, In anguish. I'll say you're a friend of mine. Only do, Do milk the cow. Oh, Don't go. Oh, Oh, Thank goodness it's only the boys. It was, And their entrance had awakened Anthea, Who, With her brothers, Now crowded through the doorway. The man looked about him like a rat looks round a trap. This is a friend of mine, Said Jane. He's just called in, And he's going to milk the cow for us. Isn't it good and kind of him? She winked at the others, And though they didn't understand, They played up loyally. How do, Said Cyril. Very glad to meet you. Don't let us interrupt the milking. I shall have a head and a half in the morning, And no blooming error, Remarked the burglar, But he began to milk the cow. Robert was winked at to stay and see that he did not leave off milking or try to escape, And the others went to get things to put the milk in, For it was now spurting and foaming in the washbowl, And the cats had ceased from mewing, And were crowding round the cow with expressions of hope and anticipation on their whiskered faces. We can't get rid of any more cats, Said Cyril, As he and his sisters piled a tray high with saucers and soup plates and platters and pie dishes. The police nearly got us as it was. The gentle samishness of the milk swishing into the handbowl seemed to have soothed the burglar very much. He went on milking in a sort of happy dream, While the children got a cap and ladled the warm milk out into the pie dishes and plates and platters and saucers and set them down to the music of Persian purrs and lappings. It makes me think of old times, Said the burglar, Smearing his ragged coat cuff across his eyes, About the apples in the orchard at home and the rats at threshing time and the rabbits and the ferrets. Finding him in this softened mood, Jane said, I wish you'd tell us how you came to choose our house for your burglaring tonight. I am awfully glad you did. You have been so kind. I don't know what we should have done without you. We all love you ever so. Do tell us. The others added their affectionate entreaties, And at last the burglar said, Well, It's my first job, And I didn't expect to be made so welcome, And that's the truth, Young gents and ladies, And I don't know but what it won't be my last. Them cats, They brought me back to the ways of honestness, Never no more. Look here, Said Cyril, Those cats are very valuable, Very indeed, And we will give them all to you if only you will take them away. But I don't want no bother with the coppers. Did you come by them honest now, Straight? They are all our very own, Said Anthea. We wanted them. But the confinement, Consignment, Whispered Cyril, Was larger than we wanted, And they're an awful bother. If you got your barrow and some sacks or baskets, My father says Persian cats are worth pounds and pounds each. Well, Said the burglar, And he was certainly moved by these remarks, I see you're in a hole, And I don't mind lending an helping hand. I don't ask how you come by them, But I've got a pal. He's a mark on cats. I'll fetch him along, And if he thinks they'd fetch anything above their skins, I don't mind doing you a kindness. You won't go away and never come back, Said Jane, Because I don't think I could bear that. The burglar, Quite touched by her emotion, Swore sentimentally that alive or dead he would come back. Then he went, And Cyril and Robert sent the girls to bed, And sat up to wait for his return. It soon seemed absurd to await him in a state of wakefulness, But his stealthy tap on the window awoke them readily enough. For he did return with the pal and the barrow and the sacks. The pal approved of the cats, Now dormant in Persian repletion, And they were bundled into the sacks and taken away on the barrow, Mewing indeed, But with muse too sleepy to attract public attention. I'm a fence, That's what I am, Said the burglar, Gloomily. I never thought I'd come down to this, And all because of my kind art. Cyril knew that a fence is a receiver of stolen goods, And he replied briskly, I give you my sacred oath the cats aren't stolen. What do you make the time? I ain't got the time on me, Said the pal, But it was just about chucking-out time as I come by the Bullen Gate. I shouldn't wonder if it was nigh upon one now. When the cats had been removed, And the boys and the burglar had parted with warm expressions of friendship, There remained only the cow. She must stay all night, Said Robert. Cook'll have her fit when she sees her. All night, Said Cyril. Why? It's to-morrow morning. If it's one, We can have another wish. So the carpet was urged, In a hastily written note, To remove the cow to wherever she belonged, And to return to its proper place on the nursery floor. But the cow couldn't be got to move on to the carpet. So Robert got the clothesline out of the back kitchen, And tied one end very firmly to the cow's horns, And the other end to a bunched-up corner of the carpet, And said, Fire away! And the carpet and the cow vanished together, And the boys went to bed, Tired out, And only too thankful that the evening at last was over. Next morning, The carpet lay calmly in its place, But one corner was very badly torn. To be continued.

Reviews

Poor carpet has a tear! Will it hinder their wishes? Next chapter, please!

Came back to this chapter because I missed the part about the burglar at first listen. Now I understand better what follows!

Whoa didn’t see that coming and as always you’ve done it again (made me happy) this story was great one of the best ones yet

Oh my goodness! What an amazing tale!🤩 thank you. As always 🙏🏽🙏🏽