Moominsummer Madness by Tove Jansson

Author:Tove Jansson [Jansson, Tove]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Publishing
Published: 2008-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

Little My awoke at once and put out her head.

‘I know that one,’ she cried. And then she sang in her shrill and gnat-like voice:

All small beasts should have bows in their tails

Because now the Hemulens are closing the jails:

Whomper’ll dance to the moon and rejoice.

Blow your nose, little Misabel, and laugh at the noise!

Look at the tulips, how happy and bright

They’re shining in morning’s wonderful light!

Slowly, oh, slowly a heavenly night

Is fading away like an echoing voice!

‘Wherever can you have heard that one?’ Snufkin asked in some surprise. ‘You sang it nearly right. You’re a strange child.’

‘You’re dead right there, pal,’ said Little My. ‘And I’ve got a secret, too.’

‘A secret?’

‘You bet, a secret. About a thunderstorm that isn’t a thunderstorm and a drawing-room that turns about. But I won’t tell you more than that!’

‘I’ve got a secret, too,’ said Snufkin. ‘In my knapsack. I’ll show it to you after a while. Because I’m going to settle an old account I have with a villain!’

‘Big or small?’ asked Little My.

‘Small,’ said Snufkin.

‘That’s good,’ said Little My. ‘Small villains are much better. They break more easily.’

She crawled happily down to her angora wool again, and Snufkin continued his walk. He had arrived at a long fence. It was hung with notices at regular intervals:

ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE

The Park Keeper and the Park Wardress lived together, in the park, of course. They had cut and sheared every single one of the trees into round blobs and square cubes, and all the gravel paths were straight as pointers. As soon as any leaf of grass dared to come up it was cut off and had to start struggling over again.

The lawns were fenced in on all sides, and the fences were hung with notices telling in big black letters that something or other was not allowed.

Into this horrible park came every day twenty-four small subdued children who had for some reason become forgotten or lost. They were furry woodies who liked the park as little as the sand-box where they were told to play. What they wanted was to climb trees, stand on their heads, run across the lawns…

Neither the Park Keeper nor the Park Wardress could understand this. They sat watching the woodies, one on each side of the sand-box. What could the little children do?

*

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