Enid Blyton (7 page)

THE TWO UGLY CREATURES

There was once a man that nobody loved. He lived alone in a cottage, and he was angry because he was blind.

He wore black glasses over his two blind eyes, and the children did not like these. So they were afraid of him, and the rudest of them called names after him, which was very unkind of them.

The man had always had weak eyes, but he had been so fond of reading that he had made them worse and worse. Now he couldn't see at all, and he was unhappy and angry. Angry because he knew that if only he had been wise, he would still have been able to see—and unhappy because he wanted to read, and couldn't, and because he had no friends.

People would have liked to be kind to him, but he wouldn't let them. He was bad-tempered, spiteful, and very, very lonely. His face grew uglier and uglier as he frowned more and more, and his black glasses seemed even blacker.

He used to go along the road of the town, tapping with his stick, and muttering to himself as he went, "It isn't fair. I haven't anything at all! I've no friends. I've no books to read, no pictures to see. It isn't fair!"

And one day, of course, fat little Mr. Pink-Whistle met him and heard him. What, something wasn't fair? Ah, Mr. Pink-Whistle was all ears when he heard that, you may be sure.

"What isn't fair?" asked Mr. Pink-Whistle, falling into step with the blind man.

"Go away," said the blind man rudely. "I never talk to anyone. Go away."

"Then you must be very lonely," said Mr. Pink-Whistle in his gentlest voice.

"What's that to do with you?" said the blind man. "I'm ugly, I know—even the children call out after me, the little wretches. And I'm bad-tempered. And I'm quite helpless, because I can't see.

I often fall off the kerb into the road—but who cares?
  
Nobody at all!"

"You are a very unhappy man," said Mr. Pink-Whistle with a sigh. "I wish I could find you a friend. All you want is someone to love, and someone who loves
you."

The blind man laughed loudly. "Who would ever love
me?
" he cried. "If anyone sees me, they run away. I know. I've heard them!"

"Let me help you across the road," said Mr. Pink-Whistle, his heart very sad, for he could not for the life of him think how he might put things right for this poor man.

The blind man at first pushed away Mr. Pink-Whistle's hand—and then, because his hand had felt so friendly and so kind, he took it after all, and allowed himself to be helped across the road.

"Thanks for helping me," he said. "If 
I could help you in return, maybe I would. But I can't help anyone. I'm just no use at all."

"You may be sure I'll ask you for help if you can give it," said Mr. Pink-Whistle. "Good-bye. I'll come and see you again some time. You live in that small house over there, don't you?"

"Yes," said the blind man. "Goodbye." He went off by himself, tap-tapping with his stick.

Mr. Pink-Whistle looked after him. "It's not fair," he said. "Some people have everything—their eyes to see with, good health, friends, love, and happiness. And that poor man hasn't Anything at all, not even a friend. Yes, it's mostly his own fault, and that only makes it worse!"

The little fat man looked quite sad for once. His eyes lost their twinkle and his mouth drooped. He stood thinking for a moment or two, and then he heard a 
yelping noise from round the corner.

He ran to see what the matter was.

There was a pond round the corner. In it a wet dog struggled for his life. Mr. Pink-Whistle waded in and got hold of him. The dog was tied to two big bricks.

"Good gracious!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle, cutting the string that bound the dog to the bricks. "Has someone been trying to drown you?"

"Woof!" said the dog, and as usual Mr. Pink-Whistle understood all he said. "Yes. The old farmer who lives down the hill sent his man to drown me this morning."

"How dreadful!" cried Mr. Pink-Whistle, trying to dry the dog with his handkerchief. "Why did he want to do that, little dog?"

"Well, you see," said the dog sadly,
^"
I'm so ugly.
 
Look at me and see.

My head's too big. My tail is too long. My legs are too short. My ears droop down instead of up. And I'm such an ugly red colour. Every one laughs at me when they see me, and really, I don't wonder. I saw myself once in a looking-glass, outside a shop, and I laughed too."

"It isn't fair," said Mr. Pink-Whistle, patting the dog. "You've got a good heart, I'm sure, and would be a splendid house-dog. That's   all   that   really matters."

"Oh, I would, I would!" barked the dog, and he licked Mr. Pink-Whistle's hand with a long pink tongue. "Couldn't you have me for your own? All the other puppies went to good homes, but nobody has ever wanted me"

And then Mr. Pink-Whistle had a wonderful idea. "Listen!" he said. "I know a poor, ugly, blind man, who is lonely and sad. He wants someone to love him and look after him—someone to sit with him in the evenings and to guide him when he goes out for walks. He sometimes falls off the kerb, you know. Now do you think your heart is large enough to be this poor man's dog?"

"I would like it better than anything!" yelped the dog. "But won't he hate me, because I'm ugly?"

"He won't be able to see you," said

Mr. Pink-Whistle.  "Come with me now, and we will see what happens."

So the still wet dog and the little fat man went to the cottage where the blind man lived. He was there, for he had just come in.

"Hallo!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle, stepping into the parlour. 

"I'm soon back again—and to ask your help too! I've got a poor little dog here, not much more than a puppy that someone has tried to drown. Could I dry him by the fire, do you think?"

"I'll get a towel," said the blind man, and he felt his way to a chest, pulled open a drawer and drew out a big brown towel. He went to the hearth-rug and knelt down. "Where's the dog?" he said. "I used to be fond of dogs, but now even they growl when they see me!"

The wet puppy put out his tongue and gently licked the blind man on the hand. He whined a little. The blind man began to dry him. "You poor wet creature!" he said. "So people are unkind to you too, are they? Well, there are two of us, then! Are you hungry? I've got some milk in the larder, and a bone too, I believe. Hey, you, there—would you get them?"

He was calling to Mr. Pink-Whistle,

but will you believe it, Mr. Pink-Whistle didn't answer a word. No—he just stood by the door, smiling, and the blind man thought he had gone. Mr. Pink-Whistle wanted him to do as much as possible for the dog, for he knew that was the right way for them to make friends.

So the man fetched the milk and the bone. He found some biscuits too. He sat down by the fire and listened to the dog eating the food.

And then the puppy-dog jumped up on to the man's knees, settled himself comfortably there, and licked the man's hands lovingly. Then he pushed his soft head against the man's face and licked his nose.

"Good dog, good fellow!" said the blind man, and he patted the dog. "You don't mind how ugly and bad-tempered I am, do you? Well—I won't turn you out just yet. You can stay for a while.

So the dog stayed.   He shared the pot of tea with him. He found an old ball and rolled it over the floor. The man heard him playing and smiled for the first time for months. "See you don't leave it for me to fall over," he said. So the dog rolled it under the couch when he had finished.

"I don't think I can very well turn you out to-night," said the blind man, when it was bedtime. "I will keep you to-night, and when the man who brought you comes back, you shall go then."