FIVE RUN AWAY TOGETHER - by Enid Blyton

07 BETTER NEWS

"Do you think we'd better slip down after the Sticks have gone to bed and get some food out of the larder again?" said Dick, when no supper appeared that evening.

Julian didn't feel inclined to sneak down and confront Mr. Stick again. Not that he was afraid of him, but the whole thing was so unpleasant. This was their house, the food was theirs so why should they have to beg for it, or take it on the sly? It was ridiculous.

"Come here, Timothy!" said Julian. The dog left George's side and went to Julian, looking up at the boy inquiringly. "You're going to come with me and persuade dear kind Mrs. Stick to give us the best things out of the larder!" said Julian, with a grin.

The others laughed, cheering up at once.

"Good idea!" said Dick. "Can we all come and see the fun."

"Better not," said Julian. "I can manage fine by myself."

He went down the passage to the kitchen. The radio was going inside, so no one in the kitchen heard Julian till he was actually standing inside the door. Then Edgar looked up and saw Timothy as well as Julian.

Edgar was scared of the big dog, who was now growling fiercely. He went behind the kitchen sofa and stayed there, eyeing Timmy fearfully.

"What do you want?" said Mrs. Stick, turning off the radio.

"Supper," said Julian, pleasantly. "Supper! The best things out of the larder; bought with my uncle's money, cooked on my aunt's stove with gas she pays for... yes, supper! Open the larder door and let's see what there is in there."

"Well, of all the nerve!" began Mr. Stick, in amazement.

"You can have a loaf of bread and some cheese," said Mrs. Stick, "and that's my last word."

"Well, it isn't my last word," said Julian, and he went to the larder door. Timmy, keep to heel! Growl all you like, but don't bite anybody... yet!"

Timmy's growls were really frightful. Even Mr. Stick put himself at the other end of the room. As for Stinker, he was nowhere to be seen. He had gone into the scullery at the very first growl, and was how shivering behind the wringer.

Mrs. Stick's mouth went into a hard straight line. "You take the bread and cheese and clear out," she said.

Julian opened the larder door, whistling softly, which annoyed Mrs. Stick more than anything else. "My word!" said Julian, admiringly. "You do know how to stock a larder, I must say, Mrs. Stick. A roast chicken! I thought I smelt one cooking. I suppose Mr. Stick killed one of our chickens today. I thought I heard a lot of squawking. And what fine tomatoes! Best to be got from the village, I've no doubt. And oh, Mrs. Stick... what a perfectly marvellous treacle tart! I must say you're a good cook, I really must."

Julian picked up the chicken, the dish of tomatoes, and then balanced the plate with the treacle tart on the top.

Mrs. Stick yelled at him. "

"You leave them things alone! That's our supper! You leave them there."

"You've made a little mistake," said Julian, politely. It's our supper! We've had very little to eat today, and we could do with a good supper. Thanks awfully!"

"Now look here!" began Mr. Stick, angrily, furious at seeing his lovely supper walking away.

"You surely don't want me to look at you again," said Julian, in a tone of amazement. "What for? Have you shaved yet... or washed? I'm afraid not. So, if you don't mind I think I'd rather not look at you."