Free The Circus of Adventure by Enid Blyton Page A

crawled out, scratched on face, hands and knees by the gorse prickles. He was nearly in tears.
    ‘He blids,’ said Dinah unkindly. ‘Gus, you are blidding all over.’
    ‘It’s nothing much,’ said Philip, taking out his handkerchief and scrubbing the drops of blood away here and there. ‘Everyone gets pricked by gorse sooner or later. Cheer up, Gus. And for goodness’ sake don’t be a baby.’
    ‘I don’t like blidding,’ said poor Gussy, in a woebegone voice. ‘It makes me feel sick.’
    ‘Well, be sick then,’ said hard-hearted Dinah. ‘But don’t make a FUSS.’
    Gussy made a valiant effort and swallowed hard. He didn’t cry after all. What a victory!
    After they had eaten every crumb of their tea, they decided to go back. Philip wanted to have a look at the quarry on the way to see if he thought that badgers might really make that their haunt.
    He wandered round the big deserted place, examining the hedges round for signs of a badger’s sett. The girls and Gussy ran the few hundred yards that lay between the quarry and the cottage. Lucy-Ann thought they ought to, in case any enemy was lying in wait!
    ‘Any news?’ she asked, as they went indoors, panting. ‘Has Jack come back from the farm yet?’
    He hadn’t. Nobody had any news at all, it seemed. Jack had none either, when he came.
    ‘Not a soul came to the farm,’ he said. ‘And I didn’t even see the man and the woman. They must have been in their room all the time. Once I heard a “ting”—as if somebody was using the telephone. It might have been them.’
    ‘Can’t tell,’ said Bill. ‘Well—I seem to have had a lazy day. I’ve got some papers to read and then I suppose it will be supper-time. There’s going to be a fine moon tonight!’
    ‘Just right for badgers,’ Philip whispered to Jack. ‘Like to come out and see if we can find any?’
    ‘Rather,’ said Jack. ‘We can slip out when the others are in bed. Gussy always sleeps so soundly, he’ll never hear!’
    Supper-time came. C old ham, a salad, junket and cream. ‘Just the right kind of meal,’ said Philip. ‘Why can’t we have this kind of food at school?’
    ‘Don’t let’s start up the subject of school meals again, Philip,’ said his mother. ‘You’re yawning. Go to bed!’
    ‘I think I will,’ said Philip. ‘Coming, Jack?’
    Jack remembered that they had planned an outing in the moonlight, and he nodded. They might as well get a little sleep first. Gussy went up with them. The girls stayed down to finish their books and then went up too.
    ‘I’ll set my little alarm clock for eleven,’ said Philip to Jack, in a low voice, not wanting Gussy to hear. ‘I’ll put it under my pillow and it won’t wake anyone but me. Gosh, I’m sleepy.’
    In ten minutes all the five children were fast asleep. Downstairs Bill and his wife sat listening to the radio. ‘We’ll hear the ten o’clock news and then go to bed,’ said Bill.
    But, just as the ten o’clock news was about to come on, there came a cautious tapping at the front door. Bill stiffened. Who was that? He looked at his wife, and she raised her eyebrows. Who could that be at this time of night?
    Bill went quietly to the door. He didn’t open it, but spoke with his mouth close to the crack.
    ‘Who’s there?’
    ‘Oh, sir, Mrs. Ellis has sent me down to beg you to come up to the farm,’ said an anxious voice. ‘It’s her old aunt. She’s fallen down and broken her hip. Can you come? Mrs. Ellis is in such a way! She sent me to ask you, because the doctor’s away.’
    Bill opened the door. He saw a bent figure, wrapped round in a shawl. It must be Alice, the old woman who helped Mrs. Ellis in the kitchen. ‘Come in,’ he said.
    ‘No, sir, I’ll be getting back,’ said the old woman. ‘You’ll come, won’t you?’
    ‘Yes, we’ll come,’ said Bill. He shut the door and went back to tell his wife.
    ‘It’s a message from Mrs. Ellis about the old aunt. Apparently she has fallen