Rosy Is My Relative Read Online Free PDF Page B

journey with only one pint of beer to sustain her, and there they were, guzzling away in the room without inviting her in. Normally, Rosy was an extremely patient elephant, but the sight of the carter pouring himself out yet another pint was too much for her. She inserted the tip of her trunk under the sash of the window and pulled. The entire window came away with a splendid crackling and tinkling noises and Rosy, delighted with the success of her experiment, put her trunk through the window and trumpeted loudly.
    “For God’s sake,” exclaimed Adrian, his nerves completely shattered, “give her some more beer, Mr. Pucklehammer, and shut her up.”
    “At this rate,” said the carter helpfully, “you’ll be spending most of your five ’undred quid on beer and repairs.’’
    Mr. Pucklehammer went into the kitchen and found a large tin basin which he filled to the brim with beer. This he carried out into the yard, and Rosy’s piercing squeals of delight were positively deafening. She dipped her trunk into the lovely brown liquid, sucked it up and then shot it into her mouth with a noise like a miniature waterfall. Very soon the basin was empty and Rosy, uttering small, self-satisfied belches to herself, wandered over to the shady side of the yard and lay down for a rest.
    “Well, I must be on me way,” said the carter “Thanks very much for your ’ospitality.”
    “Not at all,” said Mr. Pucklehammer.
    “And you, sir,” said the carter, turning to Adrian, “I wishes you the very best of luck I ’ave a feeling with that little bundle of joy you’re going to need it.”
     

4. THE OPEN ROAD

     
    Mr Pucklehammer saw the carter safely out of the yard and came back into the house, where he found Adrian, his head in his hands, contemplating an empty beer mug gloomily.
    “I simply can’t think straight,” said Adrian miserably, “I just can’t think what to do.”
    “Have some more beer,” suggested Mr. Pucklehammer, whose philosophy in life was simple and direct. “Stop fretting yourself . . . we’ll think of something.”
    “It’s all very well for you to keep soothing me,” said Adrian irritably, “but I’m the one that’s got the elephant. We don’t even know what she eats yet.”
    “Buns,” said Mr. Pucklehammer, clinging to his original premise. “You mark my words, she’ll do well on buns.”
    “I wonder if the carter was right?” said Adrian thoughtfully “If I could find a circus where she’d be happy and gave the owner the five hundred to look after her, I wonder if that would be legal?”
    “I don’t know if it would be legal,” said Mr. Pucklehammer, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “but it’s one solution.”
    “But where d’you find a circus?” said Adrian. “I haven’t seen one since I was seven or eight.”
    “The seaside,” said Mr. Pucklehammer promptly. “There’s always circuses and fairs and such at the seaside.”
    “But we’re fifty miles from the sea,” said Adrian. “How would I get her there?”
    “Walk her,” said Mr. Pucklehammer, “the exercise will probably do her a power of good. One thing’s for sure, you can’t keep her here indefinitely. I don’t mind having her, mind, but an elephant isn’t the sort of thing you can keep in your yard without getting talk from the neighours. Nosey lot, round here.”
    “Well, there’s nothing for it,” said Adrian. “I’ll have to tell Mrs. Dredge and the shop that my uncle’s dying and that I have to go away for a bit. I don’t think the shop will mind–I’m due for a holiday, anyway. How long do you think it will take me to get her down to the coast?”
    “Rather depends,” said Mr. Pucklehammer.
    “Depends on what?” asked Adrian. “How many miles a day an elephant can walk?”
    “No, I wasn’t thinking about that,” said Mr. Pucklehammer, “I was thinking about the number of pubs you might have to pass on the way.”
    “Yes,” Adrian groaned, “I’d forgotten about