The Tanglewoods' Secret (Patricia St John Series) - Softcover

St. John, Patricia Mary; Mills, Mary

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0802465765 ISBN 13: 9780802465764

Verlag: Moody Publishers, 2001

Inhaltsangabe

Ruth and her beloved brother Philip find solace in the expanse of the Tanglewoods' property. There they escape into bird watching, climbing, and general misadventures with their friend Terry.

But life with their Aunt is harsh, and Ruth suffers from an incorrigible temper. Just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, she learns a very special secret about a very special Shepherd. When a dreadful accident hurts one they love, Ruth and Philip learn that the Tanglewoods' Secret isn't meant to be kept a secret.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

PATRICIA ST. JOHN (1919-1993) was a nurse, missionary and author. She earned a nursing degree at St. Thomas¿ Hospital in London in 1946. In the early 1950¿s she moved to Tangier, Morocco where she served as a missionary nurse for 27 years. Throughout her life, she travelled extensively in Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East, as the settings of her novels reflect. In 1977, she returned to England, where she cared for elderly relatives and ministered from her home to youths, single parents, and the elderly. Patricia authored numerous books, including Treasures of the Snow, The Tanglewoods¿ Secret, The Secret at Pheasant Cottage, and Star of Light.

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The Tanglewoods' Secret

By Patricia M. St. John, Gary Rees

Moody Publishers

Copyright © 1948 Patricia M. St. John
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-8024-6576-4

Contents

1 About Ourselves, 
2 Holiday Plans, 
3 The Wigwam, 
4 Terry, 
5 The Lost Lamb, 
6 A Brilliant Idea, 
7 An Unfortunate Tea Party, 
8 Running Away, 
9 I Make a New Friend, 
10 My Sheep Hear My Voice, 
11 The Accident, 
12 A Visit to the Vicarage, 
13 We Get a Letter, 
14 A Moonlight Adventure, 
15 About Giving, 
16 Hops and Mushrooms, 
17 The Secret, 
18 Terry at Home, 
19 Mr. Tandy Explains, 
20 A Perfect Christmas, 

CHAPTER 1

About Ourselves

Philip and I lived with our Aunt Margaret in a white house on the side of a hill. It was a lovely home, with a garden and an orchard of apple trees. We slept in two attic bedrooms at the top of the house and had our doors open so we could shout across to each other. Philip's window looked out on the garden with the hills behind it, and it made me feel very safe. My window looked out over the countryside of Worcestershire, with the hills of Herefordshire in the distance, where I had never been. My view made me long for adventure.

I loved looking at the hills, and when Philip came to sit on my bed in the morning to listen to the first bird songs or watch the sun rise, we used to make up stories about strange animals that lived on them.

Philip was a year and a half older than me, and I loved him more than anyone else on earth. He was gentle and thoughtful, and once he had made up his mind about something, he wouldn't change it! He had always been my friend and protector, and we were never apart, except when we were at school. We were so different. Philip was a big, strong boy with a round face and blue eyes. I was small and thin with dark, untidy hair and a pointed chin. Philip was good and obedient, but I was naughty and hated being told what to do. Aunt Margaret really loved Philip, but she shook her head sadly when she looked at me.

At the time of this story, we had been living with Aunt Margaret for five years. We had forgotten what Mum and Dad looked like. They lived and worked in India and they had sailed away when I was just four years old. Mum was going to come home, but the war stopped her.

I was worried that Mum wouldn't like me if she did come back, as Aunt Margaret kept telling me how disappointed she would be with me because I was so bad. In her letters, Mum sounded as if she loved me very much, but I thought that must be because she didn't know what I was like. I was sure she would like Philip much better than me because he was a good boy, and grown-ups always liked him. Philip would like Mum, too, because Philip likes everybody. I wanted Philip all to myself, so I tried not to think about Mum coming home. I didn't want to share him with anybody—not even our mother.

But Philip could remember her, and sometimes he talked to me about her. I remember one evening, when I was about eight years old, I had been sent to bed without any tea because I had been naughty. I was lying on my bed feeling hot and angry and very hungry, waiting for Philip to climb the stairs on his way to bed. As usual, he came straight into my room. He bent down and struggled to get something out of his sock. It was a sugar bun that looked rather squashed, and it had lots of wool sticking to the sugar. Philip was very proud of it, as he had managed to get it into his sock, under the table, without Aunt Margaret seeing him. I ate it happily while Philip sat on my pillow and put his arm around me.

"What else did you have for tea?" I asked, with my mouth full of bun.

"I'm afraid we had meatballs," he replied, "but they were too squashy to put down my sock. They weren't very nice. You didn't miss much."

"It's very unkind of Aunt Margaret to send me to bed without my supper," I whined. "If Mum was here, she wouldn't be unkind to me like that."

"No, she wouldn't," agreed Philip. "But then, you see, you were really, really rude to Aunt Margaret, and you would never have been rude to Mum."

"How do you know? I might," I said.

"Oh, no, you definitely wouldn't," said Philip. "There wouldn't be anything to be rude about. You're only rude when you're cross, and we were never cross with Mum. She was so happy and bright. If we were a bit naughty, she used to pick us up in her arms and tell us lovely stories. Then we'd forget all about being naughty. I wish you could remember her, Ruth."

I was just about to ask Philip more about Mum, but he suddenly hopped off my bed and dived across to his own room like a frightened rabbit. I heard Aunt Margaret's footsteps on the attic stairs.

She went into Philip's room, and I heard her cross over to him and tuck him in. I heard him say, "Good night, Auntie" in a breathless sort of voice. Then she came across and stood in the doorway of my room.

"Good night, Ruth," she said.

If I had answered and said I was sorry, she would have come over and tucked me in, too. But I hated saying sorry, so I pretended to be asleep and gave a very loud snore. Of course, she didn't believe me.

"I'm sorry you are still in such a naughty temper," she said in a cold voice, then she turned away and went downstairs.

"Did she see you weren't undressed?" I whispered across to Philip.

"No," answered Philip. "I pulled the bedclothes around my neck. Good night, Ruth."

"Good night, Phil," I answered, then turned over toward the window and stared out into the darkness. I kept thinking about what Philip had said about Mum. Mum would have come across and kissed me, whether I was sorry or not, and then of course I would have really been sorry, and Mum and I would have looked out at the stars together. She would have told me stories. As I fell asleep, I could almost feel her arms around me, but in my dreams she ran away from me, and she and Philip went away together, and I was left behind.

CHAPTER 2

Holiday Plans

This story begins two years after the night I told you about in Chapter One.

I was now nine and a half, and Philip was nearly eleven. On the first day of the Easter holidays, Philip came into my room in his pajamas at half past six in the morning. He curled up on the end of my bed with a notebook and pencil in his hand. Together we leaned our elbows on the windowsill to watch the birds and to make plans.

Bird-watching was our great hobby that holiday. We had a notebook in which we recorded each different kind of bird we saw and everything we noticed about it—its song, its nest, its habits. Philip had made the book himself, and it was very neat. He did all the writing and I painted the eggs when we found them. Philip's work was exactly right but my drawings were not very good.

Philip longed for a camera so he could photograph the nests. "If only I could take photos of them," he would say over and over again, "I might be a great naturalist—My book might even be printed."

But the cheapest camera in the shop windows cost pounds, and our money box held exactly nine shillings and sixpence, even though we had been saving for weeks and weeks. We emptied the coins onto the bed and counted them once again, just in case we'd made a mistake the time before. But we hadn't. Philip sighed deeply.

"I shall nearly be going to boarding school by the time I get that camera," he said sadly. "I wish we could earn some money, Ruth."

We gazed out into the garden rather sadly, trying hard to think of a plan, but we...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Moody Publishers
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2001
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0802465765
• ISBN 13: 9780802465764
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Zeichner: Rees Gary
• Anzahl der Seiten: 167
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Moody Publishers; https://www.moodypublishers.com; ; 820 NORTH LASALLE BLVD.; CHICAGO; IL; 60610; USA
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar