Read The Tale of Castle Cottage for Free Online Page B

Don’t stop for breakfast—you’ve already eaten it. And don’t bother to come back. You are no longer welcome here.”
    It wasn’t until Corporal Rooker had left that Primrose discovered the missing silver spoons—three of them, engraved with an ornate B and handed down through a dozen badger generations on her mother’s side of the family. It was an appalling loss. Primrose blamed herself for not locking the silver chest, whilst Hyacinth blamed herself for giving hospitality to a thief. It wasn’t until later that day that the badgers heard from one of the village cats that Rooker had been implicated in at least two other thefts: Miss Potter’s turkey’s eggs and Miss Barwick’s bakery goods. (This is not entirely surprising, since according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the name Rooker has meant “cheat” or “charlatan” since the seventeenth century.)
    What’s more, the village cats were whispering that Rooker might not be the only rat in town, for they had caught glimpses of foreign (that is, unfamiliar) rats darting here and there through the midnight darkness. They were said to be very large rats, some even larger than the village cats—but of course, you know that cats exaggerate everything, so their reports aren’t entirely reliable. Some even speculated that the village might have been invaded by a gang of organized thieves, which just shows you how far cats will go in creating a good story.
    In this case, however, the cats were right. But what nobody guessed was that Rooker’s real purpose for visiting The Brockery was to reconnoiter the place, with the notion that some of its far-flung bedrooms, those close to long-abandoned exits, might make a good hideout for himself and a few friends. When Hyacinth gave him the boot, he decided that it would be better if they found another place, which resulted in—Well, you’ll see.
    Luckily, there was still time for Primrose to bake another cake. She hurriedly dispatched Flotsam and Jetsam for more carrots (this time, from Miss Potter’s garden), and baked a second cake, which was even prettier than the first. She had served it with a flourish at today’s picnic.
    Now, having helped her mother pack everything back into the picnic basket, Hyacinth went to sit down beside Uncle Bosworth. He was not really her uncle, but she loved him as dearly as if they were related—as no doubt they were, for all badgers seem to be related to all other badgers, however distantly. He had been a wonderful guide and mentor and had entrusted the Badge of Authority to her—a great compliment that still made her breathless when she thought about it, for the Badge was traditionally passed on to the oldest son. Uncle Bosworth had no children, but Hyacinth had always imagined that the Badge would go to her brother Thorn. Instead, through a combination of circumstances both wonderful and frightening, Uncle Bosworth had bestowed it upon her. Hyacinth was now the first female to serve as the leader of the sett, and she tried hard to live up to the expectations that came with the position.
    Rascal joined Hyacinth and Bosworth, and the trio sat quietly, gazing at the narrow green valley. Below them, the silvery ribbon of Wilfen Beck curled around the foot of Holly How. To the east, the darker shadows of Cuckoo Brow Wood climbed up Claife Heights along the shore of Windermere. To the north lay the green pastures of Holly How Farm, where a flock of Herdwick sheep kept the grass neatly clipped, and the spreading lawns and gardens of Tidmarsh Manor, where old Lady Longford waited and hoped that her granddaughter Caroline would stop lingering willfully in London and return home to the family estate. To the west rose the fells, their blue shoulders holding up the bluer sky. The animals couldn’t glimpse Far Sawrey, for it was tucked away behind a low hill, but they could see the roof of Castle Cottage, some little distance away, and beyond that, the roofs of the other houses in Near