Two days went by, and the Seven were very busy with all kinds of things. Peter and Janet lime-washed the hen-houses for their father, with Scamper watching in great interest.
"You look a bit peculiar, Scamper ... splashed with white from the lime-wash drips," said Janet. "Why must you sit exactly under where we're working ... you get all the splashes!"
George was busy too, with Colin, rigging a fine ship they had made together. Jack was helping at home. The two girls, Pam and Barbara, were earning a little money by weeding onion beds.
"Horrible job!" Pam told Peter, when she saw him. "The weeds will grow all tangled up with the onion stems, and we keep pulling up tiny onions with the weeds, and have to replant them! Still ... we earn five pence an hour!"
They often spoke about the stolen violin, especially Colin and George, who spent a good deal of time together on the ship. It was they who had seen the window being smashed, of course, and it was interesting to talk about such an exciting happening.
"It rather looks as if this business about the stolen violin is fading out," Colin said to George. "My father asked the police if they'd heard anything about it, or had an idea of who the thief was, but they hadn't."
"Well, they won't now," said George. "The man's gone off with it. I expect he's a hundred miles away!"
Peter and Janet finished their job in the hen-houses, and decided to take a day off.
"We think we'll go for a walk, Mother," said Peter. "May we have sandwiches?"
"Yes, dear. I'll make you some," said his mother. "If you're going near old Matt the shepherd, take him this letter, will you? It didn't come till after he'd fetched his milk this morning."
"Right," said Peter. "We'll go to the woods, I think, and see how far the bluebells are up, and have our picnic there ... and then we'll go home over the hill where Matt has his sheep."
"And we'll look in on the Bolans," said Janet. "I love that little baby. Oh Mother, can you give me an old pair of scissors, please? I promised Mrs Bolan I'd take her a pair, and some needles too. You did send a bucket up by Matt, didn't you?"
"No. Matt said she could borrow his," said Mother. "Anyhow till that monkey of a boy brings back the pail we sent before."
"He's not a monkey at all," said Janet, remembering the big-eyed, solemn little boy. "He's a queer little fellow. He only took the bucket to play tunes on!"
The children set off with their sandwiches, Scamper running joyfully ahead. It was a wonderful day again, and the sun was as hot as June. Primroses nestled everywhere, and little wild anemones danced gaily in shady corners. Janet skipped along happily.
"It's lovely to have a day all to ourselves after sticking to that lime-washing job for hour after hour," she said. "I wonder if any bluebells will be out. It's terribly early, but you never know."
The woods were full of springing bluebell leaves, their long green spikes standing guard over the flowers pushing up between them. Janet found one flower right out, its bells a lovely blue.
"Here's one! And another! Oh, I wish we could find a white one. That's so very, very lucky!"
"Better not pick any," said Peter. "They would only be dead by the time we get home!"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
They had their lunch in the bluebell wood, with the blackbirds and thrushes singing loudly overhead, and a little robin hopping round their feet, waiting for a crumb. Then they went on again, climbing the hills to where Matt the shepherd kept his sheep.
He wasn't in his hut, so they left his letter there, and then went across to where the Bolans had their caravan, a little way off. But that was shut too, and no one was about, not even Benny.
"The sheep are on the opposite hill today," said Peter, sitting down on the grass. "What a lot Dad's got now, hasn't he? And how the lambs have grown!"
"It must be rather nice to be a shepherd up on the hills, living by himself with the sheep and the lambs he loves," said Janet, sitting down beside him. "Oh look ... isn't that old Matt coming up the path over there? And his dog too!"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was. He smiled when he saw them, and his eyes shone as blue as the sky. Janet wondered why so many people who lived in the open air had such very blue eyes. She ran to meet the old shepherd and slipped her hand into his hard, horny one.
"Well, missie, 'tis nice to see you and your dog," said Matt, leaning on his big crook. "Tisn't often old Matt has visitors. Me and my dog here, we don't see much company."
"What about the Bolans? You see them, don't you?" asked Peter.
"Oh yes ... and Mrs Bolan is a right kind woman," said Matt. "I haven't seen her husband. He comes home at odd times, mostly late at night. He works in the fairs, you know. But that boy Benny ... he's a queer little fellow, now. Sits and stares at nothing for hours! It's my belief he's not right in the head."
"Oh dear!" said Janet. "Perhaps that's why he doesn't go to school, then. Poor little boy."
"I'd like to set him on my knee and tell him a tale," said Matt. "But as soon as he hears anyone coming he's off like a frightened rabbit. I'm wondering if he was scared last night, if he heard what I heard!"
"Why? What did you hear?" asked Peter, in surprise.
"I don't rightly know, young sir," said Matt, screwing up his wrinkled forehead. "I were in my hut, half asleep, when I heard it. It was about half-past nine, and a dark night too! What a wailing it was! What a sad, sad noise! It rose up and down, up and down, till I couldn't bear it and went out on the hillside to see if some animal was in pain ... and yet it sounded like no living thing. But there was nothing there. As soon as I called out, the wailing stopped."
Peter and Janet listened in astonishment. What a queer tale! Wailing? Who would be wailing? And why?
"The noise went high and it went low," said Matt. "I never did hear such wailing before. It fair went through me, and gripped my heart. I were right down glad when it stopped!"
"Do you think it will come tonight?" asked Peter. Matt shook his head.
"How do I know? Mebbe .. and mebbe not. I asked Mrs Bolan about it this morning, and she said she hadn't heard anything. But it were wailing all right!"
"Janet, I'm goingto get Jack to come up here and listen with me tonight!" said Peter, as Matt got up to fetch his pipe. "Wailing! That's something very queer. We'll find out what it is!"
