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‘I mean that all the animals are going to come to our shop. We’re going to sell all sorts of new things, and they’ll be much cheaper, and we’re going to advertise.’
‘Advertise? Whatever’s that?’
‘Of course you wouldn’t know. It means painting things on tree trunks and writing things on leaves.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Things letting the animals know that we’ve got everything they want – telling them that we can cure them of all their illnesses.’
‘But can you?’
‘Of course not, but we shall say we can. What does it matter as long as we get their money?’
‘It sounds downright wicked!’ cried Judy.
‘You only say that because you didn’t think of it yourself.’
‘I should be ashamed if I did think of such things. It’s wicked … telling lies to poor animals.’
‘Oh, you are goody-goody!’ jeered Sam.
‘I don’t care if I am. I’d rather be goody-goody than a thief.’
Sam shrugged his shoulders and grinned. ‘Have it your own way, goody-goody,’ he said.
Judy could bear it no longer. She turned on her heel and ran rapidly through the wood. And after her came the harsh echo of Sam’s voice, growing fainter and fainter as she plunged deeper into the shadows:
Goody-goody Judy
Judy, Judy
Goody-goody Judy
Judy … Judy …
Chapter Two (#ulink_1ffaa370-38ce-526d-bf4c-52ed04fb7396)
THE STRANGEST SHOP IN THE WORLD (#ulink_1ffaa370-38ce-526d-bf4c-52ed04fb7396)
THE SHOP UNDER the Willow Tree might just as well have been called The Shop In the Willow Tree, because it would have been impossible to say where the shop began and where the Tree ended. It was a very old tree indeed, so old that the trunk had split open, forming a sort of cave, in which there was always a candle burning at night. When it was cold, Mrs Judy slept in the cave; otherwise she slept in a hammock high up in the branches. She used to swing backwards and forwards in the wind, and if you had looked up through the branches, on a wild night when the clouds were scurrying across the moon, you would have thought that she was some strange bird that was resting there.
The main business of the shop was conducted in what Mrs Judy called the ‘Extension’. This was really an immense branch which had sagged away from the trunk, through sheer age, and had come to rest on the ground, forming a sort of arch. The branch was not dead; it was just old, and it felt that it had earned the right to sit down. And so the arch was a living arch, pale green in spring, gold in autumn, bare in winter – but always strong and warm. Underneath the arch Mrs Judy had dragged an old log, and it was this log which served as a counter.
Apart from the Tree itself and the ‘Extension’ there was another department which Mrs Judy called the ‘Bargain Basement’. This had originally been only a dip in the ground, but Mrs Judy had hollowed it out till it was about four feet deep, and cut some steps down to it, and scooped away the earth from the rocks, which were large and flat, and made excellent shelves. On these shelves were displayed an extraordinary variety of objects, ranging from coconuts for the tits to toy mice for the Manx children.
It was really a wonderful shop, and there were hundreds of things that would have interested you, stored away in the hollows of the trunk or hanging from the branches. But we have not time to look at any more of them just now, because Judy is coming home and we must get on with our story.
*
When Judy had told her grandmother about Sam, Mrs Judy looked very grave.
‘I was afraid this would happen one day,’ she said. ‘We are faced with Competition.’
‘What is “competition”, Grannie?’
‘Some people call it “progress”, others call it “the survival of the fittest”; but whatever name they use, it is always cruel.’
‘Never mind. We shall pull through somehow.’
‘It will not be easy. I am very old.’
‘But the animals all love us.’
‘Yes – but animals are simple creatures. They are not as simple as humans, of course, who spend their whole lives being cheated and deceived. If a man wants to make up his mind about something, he has to read a book about it, and even then the book will often tell him lies. But an animal can sum up a man’s character in a single sniff; an animal can tell whether a man is a friend or an enemy simply by listening to his footfall on the grass. And that is really the most important thing in life, to know who are our friends and who are our enemies.’
‘In that case, surely the animals will know that Sam and his grandfather are their enemies?’
Mrs Judy sighed. ‘I wonder. Those two sound as if they are very cunning. And remember – they are going to give the animals something new, something from the outside world, of which they have no experience. For instance, you told me that they are going to use advertisements. Now human beings know that advertisements are often just another name for lies. Some advertisements are true, of course, some are half-true, but many are plain unvarnished lies. The animals will not know this, because the advertisements will be written up in print, and the only print the animals have ever seen has been in our own shop, and we have never printed anything that has not been true. So the animals will think that print and truth are the same, and if we tell them that print can tell a lie, they will only think that we are jealous.’
‘Oh, why did they ever come to the wood?’ cried Judy. ‘We were so happy here.’
Mrs Judy stroked her hair. ‘We shall be happy again,’ said Mrs Judy. ‘But we shall have to think. We shall have to get some new ideas ourselves – better ideas than any that Sam can think of.’
‘But where shall we get them?’
‘From the Tree of course.’ Mrs Judy spoke quite sharply. She had lived so long under the old willow, climbing its great branches by day, sleeping snugly among its giant roots at night, that she had come to regard the Tree as almost human. More than human, in fact, for she felt that the Tree had some magical power to protect them both, that no harm could come to them as long as they dwelt in its shadow.
‘I don’t see how the Tree can give us any ideas,’ sighed Judy.
‘Ssh! Don’t say such things!’ Mrs Judy looked anxiously upwards; she was afraid that the Tree might hear, and be offended. And sure enough, at that moment there came a cold gust of wind that set the branches swaying and set up a thousand little whispers among the leaves, as though the Tree were murmuring to itself.
But what was it saying? What was the message it was trying to give them?
‘Time will tell,’ she thought. And with that, she had to be content.
Chapter Three (#ulink_6f656d36-01ea-5fd2-80fd-1c9c02e55053)
PLOTS AND PLANS (#ulink_6f656d36-01ea-5fd2-80fd-1c9c02e55053)
IT IS THE day of the opening of The Shop in the Ford, and we had better pay it a visit before the animals get there, or it will be too crowded to see anything.
When Sam and his grandfather had first come to the wood, the Ford had been a very battered old car, abandoned years ago by some adventurous tourist, who had wandered off the beaten track and lost his way. Brambles thrust through the windows; there was no engine, there were no tyres, and nettles were growing out of the radiator. However, after Sam had cleared the ground, and mended the roof, and given it a coat of bright blue paint, it looked quite smart. And the animals, who had never seen a car before, thought it was very grand indeed.
‘Will it really go?’ demanded PC Monkey. (He was the policeman of the wood, and Sam had got on the right side of him by giving him a bag of nuts.)
‘Of course it will go,’ replied Sam.
‘Where is the engine?’
‘Underneath the bonnet.’
PC Monkey, to Sam’s great annoyance, had then proceeded to lift up the bonnet and peer inside.
‘But there isn’t anything here,’ he exclaimed.
Sam cursed; he would have liked to call PC Monkey a meddling young fool, but he did not dare to offend the law. So he thought for a moment and said, ‘It’s an invisible engine. They go much better than the ordinary ones.’
This had impressed PC Monkey so much that he had gone all through the wood, telling the animals about Sam’s wonderful invisible engine. They had all believed him except Mr Justice Owl, the Chief Magistrate of the wood. Mr Justice Owl had merely sniffed, and observed:
‘In the eyes of the law there is no such thing as an invisible engine.’
‘But the eyes of the law couldn’t see it,’ replied PC Monkey, ‘because it is invisible.’ He thought this was a very clever reply.
‘An invisible engine,’ summed up Mr Justice Owl, ‘is not evidence.’ And when he said something was ‘not evidence’ it was no use arguing with him any more. There was nothing worse than being ‘not evidence’ in the eyes of Mr Justice Owl; if you were ‘not evidence’ you just weren’t worth thinking about. PC Monkey was never quite sure what was evidence and what was not evidence, but if ever Mr Justice Owl told him that he was not he felt that it would be more than he could bear; he would go and hang himself by his tail on the highest tree in the wood.
*
On the morning of the opening, Sam was up early.
Instead of ‘up’ I should perhaps have written ‘down’ for Sam and his grandfather lived in a cave, and Sam slept in the top bunk. It was made of rough planks, and it was filled with hay; sometimes when Sam was getting out of it he stepped on his grandfather’s long beard, because it was warmer than the stone floor. Which shows the sort of person he was, because no polite little boy would deliberately step on his grandfather’s beard, however warm it might be.
Sam finished the work he was doing, and then he went back to the cave, pushed his head inside, and shouted ‘Get Up!’
With a great many mutterings and groanings, Old Sam shuffled out of bed, pulled on his shirt and stuck on his hat and wandered outside, blinking in the September sunlight. When he could see clearly he gazed with astonishment at the object which young Sam was holding up before him.
It was a huge notice-board, and it read like this:
THE SHOP IN THE FORD
Principal Emporium
of
The Animal Kingdom
UNDER ROYAL PATRONAGE
All the Latest Goods
Underneath, in smaller letters, was written:
Goods Delivered to your Door
Try our Speciality – Wakeo!
Visit Our Information Bureau
Special Terms for Large Families
‘What d’you think of it?’ demanded Sam proudly.
Old Sam scratched his head. ‘Looks pretty good to me. Only …’
‘Only what?’
‘What’s an emporium?’
‘It’s another name for a store.’
‘Well why not say so?’
‘Oh, don’t be dumb!’ snapped Sam. ‘We want to make a splash. We want to impress these darned animals, and that’s the way to do it. They’ll spend much more money if they think they’re spending it in an Emporium instead of just an ordinary store.’
Old Sam scratched his head again. ‘Maybe you’re right. But what’s that about royal patronage? I don’t remember seeing no Kings nor Queens round these parts lately.’
‘Gosh!’ cried Sam. ‘Why do they call animals “dumb” when things like you are walking about?’
‘That’s no way to speak to your grandfather,’ quavered the old man.
‘It’s the way I am speaking, so you can do what you like about it.’ Sam spat contemptuously on the grass. ‘Who’s going to prove we’re not under royal patronage? We’ve got a mail-order business, haven’t we?’
‘Have we?’
‘No, you old son of a lobster, we haven’t. But we can say we have. You’re old-fashioned. Now listen. The only way we’ll get the animals to come to us instead of going to that darned old Shop Under the Willow is by giving ’em something new. Or at any rate by making ’em think we’re giving them something new. That’s the reason for the telephone.’
‘We ain’t got a telephone,’ muttered Old Sam.
‘No. Nor has anyone else in the wood. So they can’t prove it, see? All we have to do is to say to an animal, “Call us up”, and we know quite well he can’t call us up ’cos he’s not got anything to call with.’
‘That seems fair enough,’ admitted Old Sam.
‘It’s the same with “Goods Delivered to your Door”.’
‘If you think I’m going round with a basket at my age, climbing trees and ferreting into burrows, you’re very much mistaken,’ proclaimed Old Sam.
‘You don’t have to. Read the notice. It says … “To your Door”. Well, none of the animals have got a door. They’ve got nests and holes and hideouts, but there’s not a darned door in the wood. So if we say we deliver to the door, we don’t because there ain’t no doors to deliver to. Got that?’
‘’Pon my word,’ admitted Old Sam, ‘that’s a bright idea.’
Together they carried the board over to the stump of a blasted oak. A few bangs with a hammer and it was firmly in position.
‘And now,’ said Sam. ‘we’d better have breakfast, so’s to be ready for the customers.’
*
News travelled fast in the wood. Long before the shop was open, processions of animals were to be seen coming from all quarters of the wood, and by nine o’clock there was a long queue outside the Ford. Sam had put up a lot of shelves, and on these shelves were a great number of boxes, tied up with attractive ribbons.
‘What was inside the boxes?’ you may ask.
