Free Enid Blyton by MR. PINK-WHISTLE INTERFERES

stream of rotten apples!
    "Ho! He's carrying rotten apples!" cried the child. "Where did you steal those?"
    "They're marbles, not apples!" said the bad boy, in surprise. But they weren't. He was carrying nothing but hundreds of rotten apples! How extraordinary!
    And then the children had a lovely time. They pulled the sack away from the bad boy, spilt all the rotten apples, and pelted him with them as hard as they could. Pink-Whistle joined in, you may be sure. A good punishment was just what the bad boy needed!

    THROUGH THE HOLE IN THE SACK CAME OUT A STREAM OF ROTTEN APPLES!
    He ran off at last, crying bitterly, for he was not at all brave. Pink-Whistle, now looking like a little girl, met him as he went down the road. Pink-Whistle carried a hand-bag, and felt certain that the boy would stop.
    But he didn't. He had had enough of taking things away from children. There was something queer about that day. So Pink-Whistle, looking just like a nice little girl, stopped the boy instead.
    "I've got a whole shilling in my bag!" said Pink-Whistle, shaking it so that the money jingled.
    "Keep it!" said the bad boy, wiping his dirty, tear-stained face.
    "There's nobody about. You can easily take it away from me!" said Pink-Whistle.
    "I'm never going to take anything from anyone again," said the boy. "Never!"
    Pink-Whistle suddenly changed into himself again, and to the boy's enormous surprise the little girl was no longer there—but a solemn-faced little man stood in front of him.
    "Do you mean that?" asked Pink-Whistle, sternly. "Or do you want a few more lessons?"
    "Oh, no, no!" cried the boy. "I'd be afraid of stopping anyone now. You've no idea the awful things that have happened to me to-day!"
    "Serves you right," said Pink-Whistle. "Now you listen to me. You be kind in future to all those children you've stolen from, and give them pennies and sweets whenever you can. That will show me you're sorry. See? Else maybe awful things will happen to you again!"
    "I will, I will," promised the bad boy, and ran home, frightened and worried. He thought about it the whole afternoon and decided that he had better keep his word.
    So, to the great astonishment of all the small children round about, the bad boy stopped them and gave them things, instead of taking things away from them. And soon they were very fond of him, and ran to meet him whenever they saw him.
    "I wish I could meet that funny little fellow again and tell him how much happier I am now," the bad boy thought to himself a great many times. "He might like me. I wish I could meet him."
    But Pink-Whistle was far away by that time, putting something else right. I do hope he comes along if anything goes wrong for you!

CHAPTER IX

    MR. PINK-WHISTLE AND THE
    MONEY-BOX

    FOR some time Mr. Pink-Whistle hadn't come across  anything to put right, and he was feeling very pleased about it.
    "Perhaps the world is getting a better place," he thought to himself. "Perhaps people are being nicer to one another, and kinder. Maybe I needn't go around any more looking for things to put right. Perhaps I can go back to my own little cottage and live there peacefully with Sooty, my cat."
    But that very day Pink-Whistle had to change his mind, because he found two very unhappy children.
    They were together in their back-garden. Pink-Whistle was walking in the lane that ran at the back of their garden, and he heard one of the children crying.
    "Never mind," said a boy's voice. "Never mind, Katie. We shall have to save up again, that's all."
    "But it was such a mean thing to do to us," sobbed Katie. "That's what's making me cry. It was such a horrid, mean, unkind thing."
    Pink-Whistle peeped over the wall. He saw two children nearby— a boy and a girl. They both looked very upset, but the boy wasn't crying.
    "What's the matter?" asked Pink-Whistle. "Can I do anything to help?"
    "No, I'm afraid not," said the boy. "You see, it's like this. Katie and I have been saving up for our mother's