Arabel and Mortimer by Joan Aiken

Walpole using it. What Mortimer wanted even more was to be allowed to drive the LawnSabre himself. It was not at all likely that he
would
be allowed; firstly, the LawnSabre was very dangerous, because it had two terribly sharp blades that whirled round and round underneath. It was covered all over with warning notices in large print: DO NOT USE THIS MACHINE UNLESS WEARING DOUBLE-THICK LEATHER BOOTS WITH METAL TOE CAPS. NEVER ALLOW THIS MACHINE NEAR CHILDREN. DO NOT RUN THIS MACHINE BACKWARDS OR SIDEWAYS OR UPHILL OR DOWNHILL. NEVER TRY TO LIFT THIS MACHINE UNTIL THE BLADES HAVE COMPLETELY STOPPED TURNING . Secondly, Mr. Walpole was very particular indeed about his machine and never let anybody else touch it, even humans, let alone ravens.

    Now Mr. Walpole was starting it up. First he turned a couple of switches. Then, very energetically, he pulled out a long string half a dozen times. At about the eighth or ninth pull the machine suddenly let out a loud chattering roar. Mortimer watched all this very closely; his head was stuck forward, and his black boot-button eyes were bright with interest. Next, Mr. Walpole wheeled the LawnSabre onto the grass, keeping his booted feet well out of its way. He pulled a lever and pushed the machine off across the
lawn, leaving a long stripe of neat short grass behind, like a stair carpet, as the blades underneath whirled round, shooting out a shower of cut grass blades.

    "Kaaark," said Mortimer gently to himself, and he began to jump up and down.
    "It's no use, Mortimer," said Arabel, who guessed what he meant. "I'm afraid Mr. Walpole would never let you push his mower."
    "Nevermore," said Mortimer.
    "Why don't you watch Sandy Smith?" said Arabel. "He's doing a lot of lovely things."
    Mortimer sank his head into his neck feathers in a very dejected manner. He was not interested in Sandy Smith; and Mr. Walpole was now far away, over on the opposite side of the paved central area where the skaters were skating.
    Arabel, however, paid careful attention to the things that Sandy Smith was doing. He was a boy who lived in Rainwater Crescent, next door but three to the Joneses, and he was training to go into a circus. He had come out into the Crescent Garden to practice his act, and he was doing tricks with three balls.
    He was throwing them up into the air, one after another, and catching them with a hand under his knee, or behind his back, or in his mouth, or under his chin, or bouncing them off his knee, his elbow, his nose, the top of his head, or the sole of his foot;
meanwhile, he played a tune on a nose organ which was clipped to his nose.

    Arabel thought Sandy very clever indeed, though she could not hear the tune because of the noise made by Mr. Walpole's mower. But Mortimer was still watching Mr. Walpole, who had now worked his way round to this side of the garden again.
    "Arabel, dearie," called her mother. "Come down here a minute. I want to measure you before I cut out your dress. You've grown at least an inch since I made your blue."
    "
You'd
better come, too, Mortimer," said Arabel.
    "Nevermore," grumbled Mortimer, who would sooner have stayed on the windowsill watching Mr.
Walpole cutting the grass. But Arabel picked him up and tucked him firmly under her arm. Left to himself, Mortimer had been known to chew all the putty out from the window frame, so that the glass fell out into the front garden.

    Arabel carried Mortimer down the stairs into the dining room. There, Mrs. Jones had pulled out her pedal sewing machine from where it stood by the wall and taken off the lid; and on the dining table she had laid out a long strip of pale, flimsy pink material. It looked very thin and chilly to Arabel.
    "Take your cardigan off, dearie," said Mrs. Jones. "I want to measure round your middle."
    Arabel put Mortimer on the windowsill. But this window looked out into the Joneses' back garden, where nothing interesting was happening. Mortimer flopped across onto a chair and began studying