The Wombles to the Rescue Read Online Free PDF

as she had only just chosen her name, which was Chinese, and she was very much in awe of Wombles who had been working for some time as Orinoco had.
    â€˜Don’t know,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Have not seen for many hours. So sorry.’
    â€˜Come to think of it, nor have I,’ said Orinoco. ‘Funny. Oh well, I suppose he’ll turn up sooner or later. I wonder what’s for breakfast?’
    Shansi shook her head, because she didn’t know the answer to that either, and she wondered if she would ever get used to being a working Womble. She had really enjoyed being in the Womblegarten and doing lessons like painting and sewing and pottery, but she was just discovering that those kind of jobs did not seem to exist once you left school. She had been sent to the kitchen to help Madame Cholet, but that marvellous cook, although very kind, had been so busy she hadn’t had time to explain things properly, with the result that Shansi had mixed powdered clover into the nettle pie. It had given the pie a most unusual taste and even Orinoco had only just managed to finish his helping.
    â€˜No, no, no,’ Madame Cholet had said, actually throwing her apron over her head and rocking backwards and forwards on her heels. ‘I said powdered CLOVES , not clover. Quel dommage! ’
    A remark which had scared Shansi so much that she had not spoken for hours afterwards.
    The next job that Shansi had been given was to go round with Alderney pushing the elevenses (sometimes tenses) trolley. Alderney hadn’t had this job very long herself in actual fact, but the way she talked about it, it sounded as if she had been doing it for years and years. It was ‘Do this, do that, oh do hurry up, Shansi, or we’ll never get finished . . .’ until poor Shansi got so flustered that she completely forgot to push her trolley into the Workshop, so that on that particular day Tobermory didn’t get his hot dandelion juice – a drink to which he had really been looking forward.
    â€˜ Tsk, tsk, tsk ,’ Tobermory had said. ‘This just won’t do, young Womble. You know the old saying, A good hot drink helps a Womble think . And I need all the help I can get at the moment, one way and another. What are we going to do with you? Hm?’
    Shansi had wanted to suggest that she would like to go back to the Womblegarten, but she was too shy, so she had only hung her head and looked at the Workshop floor which was covered with tiny curls of wood shavings. They were rather pretty and they had a lovely, spicy smell.
    â€˜Well, well, well, off you go,’ Tobermory had said, waving one grey paw at her. ‘We’d better try you on tidying-up duty, I suppose. Report to the Workshop tomorrow for a tidy-bag. Tsk, tsk, tsk, I don’t know what the world’s coming to. Bulgaria off to America, doors sticking, Wombles bickering, hardly any ink left and now you forgetting my hot drink. Tsk, tsk, tsk . . .’
    Shansi had felt worse than ever, as though everything that was going wrong in the burrow was all her fault, and she was the only Womble who hadn’t managed to smile and wave when Great Uncle Bulgaria and Bungo set off on their great adventure. Now it was time for her to start on her third job and she was in such a state about it that she hardly took in a word Cousin Botany said, as he handed over a tidy-bag and showed her on the map which part of the Common she had to tidy up.
    Shansi crept out of the burrow after her name had been ticked off in the Duty Book by Tomsk at the main front door, and then, with her heart going twice as fast as usual, she tiptoed through the bushes and out into the open. A blackbird went winging past her, giving its alarm call and Shansi nearly jumped out of her fur. She took a few more steps forward and then some more and finally she reached open ground.
    It was a very nice morning and, as the sun was only just coming up and it was still fairly