The Wombles to the Rescue by Elisabeth Beresford Page B

agreed. ‘Helpful, practical and simple . . .’
    This was said with a sideways glance at Tobermory, who pretended to be busy trying to re-mend the brace and bit, which had started giving trouble again after having to deal with heavy duty plastic. He knew jolly well that Miss Adelaide didn’t altogether approve of the underwater farming scheme. But then she was rather set in her ways and anything that was as new as that would be sure to take her a while to get used to.
    â€˜These boards and pens will also solve the chalk shortage,’ Miss Adelaide went on. ‘I should like a big board for my own use when I am teaching. Congratulations, Wellington. Now, as I was saying before I was – ahem – interrupted, I think it would be a good idea if Shansi stopped doing tidying-up work and returned to help me in the Womblegarten.’
    â€˜Am not clever,’ said Shansi.
    â€˜Yes, you are. You’re very good at making things and painting and decorating. I shall put you in charge of the paw-craft class.’
    Shansi thought this over for all of five seconds and then nodded violently.
    â€˜Would like,’ said Shansi, ‘would like VERY much.’
    â€˜Some Wombles have all the luck,’ said Orinoco, when he heard this latest piece of news. ‘Now that’s just the kind of job I ought to have really. I’m quite a good artist, you know.’
    â€˜No, I didn’t,’ said Wellington truthfully.
    â€˜Oh yes, I can draw terribly good pin-Wombles and . . .’ Orinoco stopped suddenly and then went on quickly, ‘Well, I’d better nip off and finish my tidying-up. See you later.’
    â€˜I thought you’d finished for today,’ said Wellington, but he spoke to the empty air for Orinoco, moving at a fair speed, was already yards away and heading for the open Common. His strange behaviour was explained almost instantly, for at that moment Tobermory and Tomsk came into view carrying between them, and with much groaning and grunting, a large piece of brown plastic.
    â€˜New front door,’ puffed Tobermory. ‘Don’t just stand there, young Wellington, come and lend us a paw. You need to build up your muscles or you’ll get as fat as Orinoco. Funny, I thought I saw him here a minute ago. We could have done with his help too.’
    Wellington looked in the direction of his friend, who was now a mere round furry dot on the horizon. It was very odd about Orinoco – he sometimes took a lot more exercise avoiding work than the actual work would have needed.
    However, once he was well clear of the burrow, Orinoco slowed to a walk and then a saunter while he kept a weather eye open for somewhere to have a nice forty winks. There was what looked like a promising little line of trees over there with some nice cosy bushes growing round them, and beyond there was an old green van, which would make a good windbreak.
    From his tidy-bag, Orinoco shook out the coat he’d picked up from the storeroom, for the wind was still a bit nippy, and put it on. It trailed round his feet, but that made it even cosier and, tying his hat on with his scarf, Orinoco slid a pair of dark glasses on to his nose, a toffee into his mouth and prepared to snuggle down in the bracken.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ said a somewhat irritable voice, ‘but you are knocking against our microphone, sir.’
    Orinoco, not a Womble to get flustered, turned round and saw a largish man wearing headphones, coming out of the bushes on all fours.
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Orinoco, and couldn’t resist asking, ‘What is the microphone for ?’
    â€˜We’re from WTV,’ the man said importantly. ‘We’re doing a TV programme on the wildlife of Wimbledon Common.’
    â€˜Wild?’ said Orinoco, faintly surprised. ‘I didn’t know there was much wild life, it always seems fairly tame to me. The squirrels tear about a bit sometimes in the spring, but