Mrs Mophair

[Palustris]

Mrs. Mophair

Chapter One

The Farm

 
            The farm was nothing special. It was just like any other farm in the valley. Mr. Newman, the owner, grew wheat and barley. He sold the wheat to the miller by the river and the barley to the brewer in the big town nearby. Mrs. Newman kept hens and ducks and geese and raised vegetables in the farm garden. She took the eggs and vegetables to the local market once a week to sell. Once a month some of the hens and ducks were sold at a bigger market and once a year the geese were driven to the Goose Fair. This was held just outside the City walls. It was a very exciting Market to visit. You could buy almost anything there, from a packet of pins to a special dress for a special occasion, if you had the money.

The farm had the usual buildings that you find on any farm. There were barns, sheds and a dairy. Mr. Newman did not have cows. He did not like cows. His wife said that it was because he had been trodden on one when he was young. When he had inherited the farm from his father he had sold the dairy herd and shut up the dairy. Now it was used as a junk room for all those bits and pieces of stuff which may have no use now, but which may come in handy one day.

There were two children in the family. George, who was the son and heir helped his father with the ploughing and general farm work. The daughter was called Lottie. Like many other farmers’ children she was expected to do her fair share of work. Her first job was to help collect the eggs and feed the hens, ducks and geese. She liked doing that. Her other job was to scare the birds from the fields and garden. She had a rattle that made a very loud noise as she ran up and down the fields and garden. She did not like doing that. It was no problem scaring the small birds, but the ones that did the most damage scared her, rather than the other way round.

These were rooks, big black birds which arrived in flocks as soon as Mr. Newman had sown the seed. He said that he sowed one lot of seeds for himself, one lot for the mice and one lot for the birds.

There is something you need to know about this particular set of rooks. They came from a rookery in the trees which surrounded the cottage of the Witch of the Dark Forest. She did not own the rooks any more than they owned her, but she liked to have them living round about her home. There were always rooks in her trees and they kept a sharp watch out for anyone or anything visiting the area. As soon as they spotted an intruder they would begin to call loudly. This meant that no-one and nothing could sneak up on the witch, if she was at home. The noise the birds made gave her time to look in her dark glass to see who or what her visitor was. Then she could decide whether she was going to be at home or out, be nice or nasty, depending on the visitor.

The rooks were not magic in any way, but living near the Witch had made them bigger and braver than any others and they just flapped out of Lottie’s way when she tried to chase them out of her father’s fields. She used to get very hot and cross about it and complained to her mother about having to do this chore.

One day Lottie’s father opened the door to the Dairy and spent a good half hour rummaging amongst the stuff in there. A piece had broken on the plough and he just knew there was one in there somewhere. Eventually he found something that would do and he emerged, hot and dusty and a bit cross. He left the door open. Lottie came in to the farmyard after a particularly frustrating bird scaring session. She saw the open door and went inside. Along the wall was a set of shelves and on the shelves were lots of milk churns. When old Mr. Newman had the cows he had all sorts of sizes of tins in which the milk was stored, delivered or made into butter. They ranged in size from ones that were nearly as big as Lottie herself down to tiny ones that held just enough for one person for a day. When the cows went these smaller churns were put on the shelves and left to gather dust.

Wandering up and down and looking at these churns and muttering about the rooks, Lottie noticed that one of the churns just looked as if it had a face on it, two eyes, a nose and a fierce looking mouth. It gave Lottie an idea. In one corner there was a stack of broken brooms, the kind made from a stout stick and  a bundle of twigs. She took down the churn with its face and went off into a quiet part of the yard. She found a broom handle. She fastened the churn with the face to the top of the handle. It really did look like a head, if you looked at it in just the right way. To make it look even more like a face, Lottie got a burnt stick from the fireplace and made the face look even more fierce. With some of the old brooms, Lottie made a body, arms and legs. When it was finished she stood and surveyed her handiwork. There was something missing.

She wandered round the farmyard deep in thought. On a bench near the back door, her father had put his thick gloves. Lottie picked them up. "Hands!" she thought. Indeed, when she stuffed them with straw and tied them on to the end of the arms, they did look a bit like hands.

The figure still did not look quite finished. Lottie scratched her head and went off on another hunt. In one of the work sheds she found a pair of boots. They used to belong to her grandfather, but they were too small for her Dad and too big for George. No-one had ever thrown them away, they were almost new and you never know when they might come in useful. Lottie took them over to her figure and fastened them on the ends of the legs. It looked better, but was still not quite finished.

Something else was needed. Again Lottie went on the search. On the washing line she found the very thing to complete her handiwork. She reached up and took down the dress that her mother had washed that morning. It was Lottie’s party dress, made out of glittery material. Lottie used to like it, but now she thought she was too old to wear it and wanted a new party dress. Her mother had disagreed and said that it would do for another year, if she let it out a bit. Lottie took the dress and put it on the figure. Still the figure did not look finished.

Lottie hoped that her mother would think that the wind had blown the dress away, then she would get a new one at the Goose Fair. After the Goose Fair there was always a big party for all the children in the Valley. Lottie liked that part of Goose Fair day very much indeed.

Lottie went wandering round the yard again. Near where she had found the stick there was an old mop head. It just looked like rather tangled and dirty hair. Lottie put it on top of the churn with the face. That finished it off perfectly.

The bird-scarer was quite heavy and Lottie struggled to carry it out to the fields, but she was a determined child and managed it, though she was very hot and bothered by the time she had got it set up in the middle of the field. It looked very good, but it was too quiet. Lottie said some naughty words and went back to the Dairy. She took a handful of nuts, washers and bolts from the tin by the door. She put them inside the figure's head. Now as the wind blew and the figure moved, the dress billowed and the head rattled loudly. Lottie felt very pleased with her efforts, so far. Now all that had to happen was that the figure should frighten the rooks.

Lottie stood at the edge of the field and waited to see what would happen. The rooks arrived, they landed in the field and began to feed, making an awful racket as they did. The wind blew, the dress flapped and glittered, the metal rattled and the birds took off in fright. Lottie felt very pleased with herself. "Well done Mrs. Mophair," she said, to no-one in particular and went off to feed the hens.

 

 

 

[Palustris]

Chapter Two

Mischief

Now this bird-scarer might well have continued scaring the birds until Mrs. Newman discovered the use to which the party dress had been put, but for reasons known only to herself the Witch just happened to be flying over on her broomstick when the rooks flew up from the field. She heard the cawing and alarm calls and came to investigate. She landed in the field next to Mrs. Mophair. She examined the figure and a sly smile came over her face. Out of spite or mischief, she whispered a few words and waved her arms and jumped back on her broomstick as the figure came to life.

"Serve you right for scaring my rooks," she shouted in the general direction of the farm and flew away cackling loudly, followed by a flock of rooks.

Mrs. Mophair found herself stood in the middle of a field. She had no idea how she got there or where she had been before. All she knew was that she was supposed to be scaring birds. She looked around and the only birds she could see were flying away. Mrs. Mophair set of after them. She was going to scare those birds good and proper, even if it meant chasing them for a long way.

She really had scared those birds. Mr. Newman could not work it out, but no rook ever came to eat the seed that he sowed in that field.

The flock of birds flew away over the top of the trees and away into the Dark Forest. Mrs. Mophair gathered up her skirt and followed as fast as she could. For a metal woman with stumpy legs she could move very quickly. Soon she was deep in the trees. She could no longer see the birds, but she could still hear them. One advantage she had over you or I was that did not get out of breath from running.

Soon she came to a clearing in the Forest. In the middle of the clearing was a cottage. More importantly, for her, the trees around the cottage were full of rooks. Mrs. Mophair rubbed her leathery hands together and began dancing round the cottage, flapping her glittery dress and shaking her head until the nuts, washers and bolts clanged together as loudly as they possibly could. The rooks went wild and flew here and there, screaming in sheer terror. Mrs. Mophair was having a wonderful time.

The Witch had been on an errand elsewhere, turning a rather nice young man into a robin, but that is another story. She came back to find her rooks in complete panic and a rattling, flapping metallic figure dancing round her cottage. She was not amused. She made an odd gesture with her hand. Mrs. Mophair found herself unable to move. The Witch landed and climbed off her broomstick. She stood and looked at Mrs. Mophair. Now you or I or indeed, anyone else would have been terrified. Mrs. Mophair was not scared. She was built to scare things. She did not know how to be scared.

"Hmmmmm!" The Witch walked around Mrs. Mophair, who still could not move. "That rather backfired on me, didn’t it?" Mrs. Mophair did not answer, one because she could not move her lips and two because she did not know what the witch was talking about..

The Witch gave a nasty laugh. "You can run through the Forest scaring the birds as much as you like, but this spell only lasts a short time. It will go when the last rays of the setting sun disappear. Then you will fall in a heap and rust away unseen." The Witch started to cast a spell to let Mrs. Mophair move. She stopped and said. "But, to make it more interesting." She bent and whispered in Mrs. Mophair’s ear, or actually about where there would have been an ear if Lottie had made one. "There is more to life than scaring birds. So go and find what it is!" "Now I have a Christening to spoil so be gone with you."

[Palustris]

Chapter Three

Searching

Mrs. Mophair found herself on a path in the Forest with no witch, cottage or rooks in sight. "I wonder what she meant by that," she thought. She shook her head and rattled. A couple of birds flew off into the trees. Mrs. Mophair found that she felt rather sorry that she had scared them.

Now it may not seem a cruel thing for the Witch to have done, but it was. Poor Mrs. Mophair had been happy just scaring birds, but now she felt empty. She would have cried, but painted eyes cannot shed tears. She began walking down the path, not really having much idea where she was going to go, but she had to find out what more there was to living before she fell in a heap and turned to rust.

Very soon the trees thinned and she came to the edge of the Forest. Next to the path was a neat little garden round a pretty thatched cottage. Mrs. Mophair looked over the fence. In the garden she saw a small boy of about ten, sat looking very sadly at a small wheelbarrow

"Hello" called Mrs. Mophair.

"Hello!" replied the boy without looking up.

"Is there something wrong?" Mrs. Mophair asked.

The boy looked up and jumped to his feet.

"Don’t be afraid," said Mrs. Mophair. "I only scare birds."

"I am not scared," said the boy.

"Good, I am supposed to scare birds not people." Mrs. Mophair said. "But I don’t feel very happy about scaring birds either at the moment. My name is Mrs. Mophair. What’s yours?"

"Dan"

Mrs. Mophair could see that he was not really paying much attention to her. "Is there something wrong?!" she asked.

Dan nodded. "I was helping my Dad in the garden and the wheel came off my barrow and I fell over. Now I cannot help any more."

"That’s too bad. I wish I could help," said Mrs. Mophair.

Dan stood up and came to the garden fence. For the first time he looked properly at the person to whom he was speaking. "Oh! You are made of milk churns. How odd."

"Milk churns?" Mrs. Mophair was puzzled.

"Yes," Dan said. "Look I have one here. My Mother gets one full of milk for me to drink, every day."

He went over to a bench near the house and brought a tin over. It was exactly like the ones of which Mrs. Mophair was made, only smaller and cleaner. It had a little white liquid left in the bottom.

Mrs. Mophair was fascinated. "Do you think I could have some of that?"

Dan shrugged his shoulders and carried the little churn over to Mrs. Mophair. He tried to pour a drop into her painted mouth, but it just ran down her chin. He frowned.

Mrs. Mophair felt very sad. "Oh dear and I did so want to try the milk," she said. She shook her head, making it rattle. Her mop hair fell off.

Dan picked it up and handed it back to her. Mrs. Mophair started to place it on her head, then stopped and felt the top of her head with a leathery hand. The top of her head was a lid. It opened.

Dan watched fascinated. "I could try pouring it in there," he said. "Kneel down".

Mrs. Mophair knelt in the dust until her head was just level with Dan’s chest. He started to pour, but stopped.

"What’s the matter?" Mrs. Mophair asked.

"There is something in there already." Dan pointed out.

"That’s my rattlers," said Mrs. Mophair. "They are what scare the birds."

"I thought you did not want to scare the birds any more," said Dan. "Shall I take them out?"

"Yes, please," answered Mrs. Mophair.

Dan reached in and took out a handful of nuts, washers and bolts. He looked at them. "Wow, these are just what I need to mend my barrow."

"Please, take them," said Mrs. Mophair. "I don’t need them any more."

Dan carefully poured the drops of milk into Mrs. Mophair’s head and closed the lid. He put the mop hair back on and stood back. Mrs. Mophair stood up. She shook her head. She did not rattle any more. Instead she swished a little, but she felt very, very different. She did not feel quite as empty as she had before. Now she knew exactly what she needed. She needed to be filled.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," she cried to Dan.

"No, thank you" said Dan. "Now I can mend my barrow and help my Dad in the garden." He turned to go back to his barrow.

"Wait, please." said Mrs. Mophair. “Your milk, where does your mother get it from?"

"A man comes past every day on a cart. He brings it." Dan told her. "But I don’t know where he gets it from."

Mrs. Mophair knew that she could not wait for the man to come back. "Which way does he come?"

Dan pointed down the road. "That way."

"Then that is the way I must go," said Mrs. Mophair. "Thank-you so much for your help. "

"A pleasure," replied Dan politely. Then he looked at her face. "You know you don’t look as fierce as you did before."

Mrs. Mophair would have blushed, but painted faces cannot change colour.

She waved goodbye and set off down the road. Dan watched her till she was out of sight.

 

[ideasguy]

A fascinating story, Eric!
James and I will have a book binding exercise this afternoon after school

[Palustris]

Chapter Four

Good deeds

Mrs. Mophair walked for what seemed like miles until she came to another cottage. Unlike Dan’s cottage the garden round this one was chest high in weeds. Mrs. Mophair could hear a man’s voice.

"Dratted nettles," it said. "Rotten brambles!"

"Hello" Mrs. Mophair called. She stepped back as a man popped up from amongst the weeds.

"Ooops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you." The man smiled at Mrs. Mophair. He did not seem to notice that he was talking to a bird-scarer. "These nettles are a pain." He held up his hands to show Mrs. Mophair the nettle stings.

"The brambles are worse." His hands had lots of scratches too.

"You need some gloves," said Mrs. Mophair.

“True!" laughed the man. "But until the Goose Fair next week there is nowhere I can get any from and my wife wants the garden cleaned up as soon as possible so we can get some vegetables growing."

Mrs. Mophair looked at her hands. "You can have my gloves," she said. "I don’t really need them. They were only for waving about to frighten the birds and I don’t want to do that any more.

"Well, that is very kind, but are you sure you can spare them?"

Mrs. Mophair nodded. The man came out of the garden and carefully undid the string that held the gloves to Mrs. Mophair’s arms. He removed the straw stuffing and tried them on. They fitted perfectly.

"Now, what can I do for you in return? " He smiled at Mrs. Mophair.

"Please! Do you know where the milkman gets his milk from?" She asked.

"Oh, dear. I am not really sure. We have only been here a few days and I have not had time to find out these things yet. There must be a Dairy somewhere around." The man shook his head.

"A Dairy?" Mrs. Mophair was puzzled. "What’s a Dairy?"

"That is a place where cows are milked and the milk put into churns." he replied and just in case he pointed to the field opposite the house. "And that is a cow."

Mrs. Mophair tuned to stare at the animal in the field. She nodded.

"The milkman comes from that direction," went on the man, pointing down the road. "I am sure if you keep going that way you will find one soon."

Mrs. Mophair nodded and walked on down the road. The man went back to his weeding wearing the thick gloves.

Mrs. Mophair walked until she came upon a young man sat by the side of the road. He was wearing only one shoe and holding the other up to the light. He was muttering to himself.

"Hello!" said Mrs. Mophair.

The young man jumped to his feet. "Hello!" he replied. He did not seem to notice that he was talking to a bird-scarer.

"Is there something wrong?” asked Mrs. Mophair,

"I’ll say," replied the man. "I have got to get back home before nightfall to give the Landlord his rent or we will be thrown out of our cottage." He patted his pocket. "I have the money here, but the sole has come off my shoe and I have a blister coming on my foot. I will never be able to get home in time." He held up his shoe for Mrs. Mophair to see. She could see the sky through it.

"You need a new pair of shoes, " she said.

"Sure do, but where do I get shoes from round here?" He smiled ruefully.

"You can have mine, I don't really need them. I only needed them to run about the field scaring the birds and I don’t want to do that any more. I can walk without getting blisters." Mrs. Mophair said. She sat down on a grass bank. The young man removed her shoes and tried them on. They fitted perfectly.

"Thank you, thank you," he said. "But what can I do for you in return?"

"I am looking for the Dairy," Mrs. Mophair told him. "Do you know where it is?"

"Not exactly," replied the young man. "But there are farms down the road there and I saw lots of cows in the fields. One of those farms is sure to have a Dairy.

"Thank-you, "said Mrs. Mophair.

"Thank-you," replied the young man, "Now I really must go or I will be too late.

They both set off in opposite directions. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky. The next person Mrs. Mophair met was a young girl. She was stood next to a garden gate in the wall of a cottage. She was busy kicking the gate. As Mrs. Mophair came nearer she could hear the child saying. "It’s not fair, it’s not fair" Each time she spoke she gave the gate another kick.

Mrs. Mophair said. "Is there something wrong?"

The girl turned round and sniffed. Mrs. Mophair could see that she had been crying. "It’s not fair," she said She did not seem to notice he was talking to a bird-scarer.

"What’s not fair?" Mrs. Mophair asked gently.

"The Goose Fair party is next week and I have no party dress to go in. Mum says we cannot afford new dresses this year. And my old one is so............" The girl sobbed. She sniffed again and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "My old one is too small. Mum says she can let it out, but it still looks old." She stopped and looked at Mrs. Mophair. "I wish I had a nice glittery dress like yours to go in."

"You can have this one," said Mrs. Mophair "I only needed it to flap about to scare the birds and I don’t want to do that any more. I am sure your mother could wash it and mend it and make it fit. Help me take it off."

The girl did as she was told and twirled about holding the dress against her. She stopped and remembered her manners. "Thank you, oh thank you, but what can I do for you in return?"

"I am looking for the Dairy. Do you know where it is?"

"Oh, yes certainly," replied the girl. "I have been with my mother for milk. You go on down the road until you come to a Farm. Go through the gate and the Dairy is easy to see. It has the word Dairy written on the door."

"Which farm?" asked Mrs. Mophair.

The girls shook her head. "I cannot remember which one exactly, I have only been the once. But you can read what it says on the door, can’t you?"

Mrs. Mophair shook her head. "I never leaned to read."

"Oh," said the girl. "Then I will have to teach you." She got a stick from the hedgerow and wrote D A I R Y in the dust of the road side. The letters were a bit shaky, but clear enough. "That says ‘Dairy’. Find that on the door and you are there."

"Thank-you," said Mrs. Mophair staring hard at the letters. "I think I can remember that." She looked up at the sun. "But I really must hurry. I have to find it before the sun goes down."

She set off down the road once again leaving the girl clutching the glittery party dress and waving.

Mrs. Mophair was beginning to felt weaker now and her pace slowed. She could feel that she did not have much time left. The next person she met was a young servant girl. She was stood just inside a garden gate looking sadly at two pieces of broom handle, one in each hand. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," she was saying.

"Hello!" said Mrs. Mophair. "Is there something the matter?"

"My brush handle has snapped and I have to finish sweeping the path or my mistress will be angry." She did not seem to notice she was talking to a bird-scarer "She said that if I did anything else wrong she would send me back home. And my mother really needs the wages I earn." She looked very close to tears.

"I am tied to a broom handle," said Mrs. Mophair. "You may have it if it is any use to you."

The servant girl came and carefully undid the string that held the milk churns to the broom handle. Strangely, though she felt a bit wobbly, Mrs. Mophair did not fall to pieces. The girl fastened the handle to her brush head and tried it out on the path. It worked beautifully.

"Oh thank you," she cried. "But what can I do for you in return?"

Mrs. Mophair explained about looking for the Dairy once again. "Do you know where it is?" She was getting very weak now.

"Why, yes," replied the girl. "The next farm along has a red gate. Push it open and the Dairy is straight in front of you. But watch out for the dog."

"Is he fierce?" Mrs. Mophair did not think she was strong enough to deal with a fierce dog."

"Heavens no," laughed the girl. He just wants you to throw something for him to play with. Now I really must finish sweeping before my mistress comes home. Thank so much for the handle."

Mrs. Mophair walked slowly along the lane. The sun now was just sitting on the horizon. She felt very weak now. She reached the red gate and pushed it open. A big black dog came rushing over and danced around her panting and making little yipping noises. Mrs. Mophair had no hands, how could she throw anything for it. Every time she moved it stood in front of her and barred her way. She shook her head and stamped her leg. The movement dislodged the mop hair and flew away across the yard. The dog turned and gave chase. It picked it up and rushed off to its kennel, growling and tossing the mop head from side to side. Mrs. Mophair was free to walk on. She crossed the yard. There, as promised, straight in front of her was a farm building. At the end nearest to her was a closed door. On the door she could just make out the word ‘Dairy’ as the last rays of the sun turned the clouds red, yellow and orange. She reached the door step as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon.

[Eric Hardy]

Just enjoyed reading it Eric . I need great grandson Zack here to read it to him.

Eric H

[Palustris]

One more chapter to go too!

[Palustris]

Chapter Five

Fullness

 

Next morning, as the sun rose over the trees the farmer's wife and the Dairy maid came from the Farmhouse to begin the work of the day. The Farm hand had already brought the cows in from the field. The animals were milling around in the yard waiting to be let in to the milking parlour. The farmer's wife went to open the Dairy door.

"Oooh look at this," she said to the Dairy Maid. "Someone has dropped a pile of milk churns on the step." She bent down to look at them "And rather nice ones too, if a bit dirty. We can use them. Fetch them in my girl."

The Dairy Maid picked up the churns and carried them into the Dairy.

"Right, " said the farmer’s wife. "I’ll get on with the milking, you give them a good cleaning. We can use them. Always need plenty of churns."

Soon with hot water, scouring pad and silver sand, all the churns where bright and shiny and clean. Well, not all of them. Two from the bottom of the pile had holes in them. "Looks like someone has been dragging them along the ground," thought the Dairy maid. She showed them to her mistress.

"They are no good," she said. "Throw them away."

The Dairy maid turned to go, but the farmer’s wife said. "No, hang on. Hang one up in the eaves by the door and the other by the farmhouse. They’ll make nice nesting boxes for the robins."

The girl did as she was told. She went back to the Dairy. The biggest of the new churns was now filled with creamy, foaming fresh milk. "Take that into the house for the men's breakfast," ordered the farmer’s wife.

The Dairy maid bent to pick up the churn. "You know," she said to her mistress." If you look at this churn from here it just looks as if there is a smiling face on it."

"Get away with your fancies!" said the farmer’s wife. "Daft girl."

The Dairy maid took the churn into the house and placed it in the centre of the big table ready for breakfast after the milking was done. She looked at it once again and shook her head. No matter what her mistress said, it did look as if there was a face on the churn, two eyes, a nose and a great big smile.

 

 

[ideasguy]

Another happy ending Eric.
Lots of material to read to the children (when I can get their concentration )
A 3 year old is coming tomorrow to bind his art book (and this one!)
Thank you again