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.
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,
