Part 10 (1/2)

'Got something to tell you,' said Tomsk.

'If it's about golf, please don't,' said Bungo.

'Well, 'tis and 'tisn't. Just thought you might be interested in a ticket for this Wimbledon thing. It was you who was asking about it, wasn't it?'

'What!' said Bungo, stopping in his tracks. 'Yes, it was. I say, Tomsk, old Womble, you're a genius.'

'Not really,' said Tomsk. He took a deep breath. 'It was like this. At the first hole I teed off and . . .'

'For me? Truly?' said Cousin Yellowstone, when Bungo rather shyly handed over the tickets and the card. 'Well, that's just marvellous. Just wait till I tell Great Uncle Bulgaria about this. He'll be thrilled.'

Great Uncle Bulgaria was not exactly thrilled, but he was extremely pleased, and he sent for Bungo and thanked him very much.

'Wasn't me really,' said Bungo. 'It was Tomsk who got the tickets, actually.'

'You're coming along, young Womble, coming along,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria and went hurrying off to see Madame Cholet about packing up a picnic tea for the great day. He also paid a visit to Tobermory's storeroom to choose a panama hat for himself, binoculars, and a very smart long white coat which only needed the arms shortening a trifle to fit perfectly.

'Can't let the side down, can we?' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, admiring his reflection in the hand mirror which Tobermory was holding up for him. 'And dark gla.s.ses I think. The glare's very bad on the Centre Court.'

'Fuss, fuss, fuss,' said Tobermory under his breath. To his way of thinking he had far more important matters on hand than going to see a lot of silly Human Beings running round a small piece of gra.s.s in pursuit of a ball. The truth of the matter was that Tobermory's nose had been put slightly out of joint ever since the arrival of Cousin Yellowstone. n.o.body realised this, least of all Great Uncle Bulgaria, who had put his old friend's tetchiness down to whatever mysterious something he was up to in that back room of his.

As the Wimbledon Wombles had provided the tickets it was felt to be perfectly all right for Cousin Yellowstone to be responsible for the transport and, well hidden in the bushes, Bungo, Orinoco, Tomsk and Alderney watched them go off in a taxi.

'The burrow won't be the same without Great Uncle Bulgaria, will it?' said Alderney.

'Don't be silly, he's only gone for the afternoon. Race you home,' said Bungo. 'Besides I've got something I want to talk to you all about. One, two, three GO!'

Tomsk won, of course.

Meanwhile Great Uncle Bulgaria and Cousin Yellowstone were bowling up to the great Wimbledon stadium in fine style. It was a beautiful hot afternoon with a clear blue sky dotted with puffs of white clouds. Birds were singing everywhere and Human Beings in light coloured clothes were streaming into the grounds.

'What a sight,' breathed Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'Not bad, eh?'

'Very fine,' said Cousin Yellowstone, 'although Forest Hills is quite remarkable also.'

They climbed out of the taxi and Great Uncle Bulgaria was pleased and a little surprised, although he didn't show it, when the ticket collector on the gate bowed low and murmured something about the taxi being able to take them right inside if they so wished.

'No, no, we'll walk,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, who was thoroughly enjoying looking at the colourful crowds strolling about. They were not, of course, as handsome as his Wombles, but as Human Beings go they weren't a bad-looking lot on the whole. Cousin Yellowstone too seemed impressed, although equally determined not to show it, and the two Wombles slowly made their way through the crowds to the ivy-covered walls of the great and famous Number One and Centre Courts.

It was here that they got their second surprise, for when Great Uncle Bulgaria produced their tickets and the card, the Human Being on the gate read the message on the card, saluted smartly and said, 'This way, sir, if you please, sir.'

A faint p.r.i.c.kle of apprehension ran through Cousin Yellowstone's sleek grey fur. Were they by any terrible chance about to be led away for questioning as to how they had come by these rare tickets? He glanced at Great Uncle Bulgaria, whose face, what could be seen of it beneath the brim of his snowy white panama and the enormous round spectacles, was sunnily untroubled. Cousin Yellowstone braced himself.

'As the special players' stand is already full, gentlemen,' said the Human Being respectfully, 'alternative accommodation has been reserved. And as your tickets were given to you by . . .' and he named a very famous tennis player, 'I'm sure you two are the ones to whom it should be given. After you, sir.'

And to the astonishment of the two Wombles they were ushered through a very superior gateway.

'Why surely bless me isn't this the way to the ROYAL box?' whispered Cousin Yellowstone.

'Naturally,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria without a quaver.

'Oh my,' said Cousin Yellowstone and mopped his face quickly with a silk handkerchief.

Slowly and as to the manner born Great Uncle Bulgaria allowed himself to be most respectfully ushered into a seat at the rear of the Royal box. With great dignity he sat down and clasped his paws over the head of his stick, staring steadfastly straight ahead at the emerald green court below. Not by a quiver of a whisker did he betray his own enormous surprise and satisfaction at this turn of events. All he did do was to kick his parcel of sandwiches gently under the seat, for Great Uncle Bulgaria knew, from reading the Court News in The Times, that persons who were invited to sit in the Royal box were also served with tea.

Cousin Yellowstone was even more impressed, but he kept his end up n.o.bly, storing every incident in his mind to tell the Wombles back home in the States. He so far controlled himself as to comment adversely on the standard of modern tennis, which he said firmly was not nearly as good as when he was a young Womble.

'It's all in the service these days,' he said. 'If that's powerful enough you're almost sure to win.'

'What energy they have,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, watching the players leap about the court untiringly. 'Oh, well played, sir!' And he clapped his paws enthusiastically.

They were lucky enough to have been given their seats for the Sat.u.r.day of the first week, so that the tennis they were watching was of an extremely high standard without being too nerve-racking. Great Uncle Bulgaria enjoyed every second of it, and it wasn't until the shadows slowly drew across the court that he was able to turn his attention from the tennis to those sitting in front of him.

'So like her great-great-grandmother,' he sighed, looking at the beautiful Royal Person sitting at the front of the box. 'That smile, that way she has of lifting her hand. Ah me, how it takes me back.'

However, even all the excitement and the colour and the applause did not stop Great Uncle Bulgaria hooking up his sandwiches at the finish they were given tea in a private lounge because for the life of him Great Uncle Bulgaria could never, under any circ.u.mstances, be untidy.

'That was great, just great,' said Cousin Yellowstone, letting out a loud sigh of appreciation. 'Just wait until I tell the Wombles back home about it. And sitting in the same section as Her.'

'So you intend to leave us,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria.

'I have to go back, yes,' said Cousin Yellowstone as they slowly made their way down the stairs. 'I have business interests and so forth which must be attended to, and our annual Womble Conference comes up later in the Fall. It is a very, very important occasion.'

'We shall miss you,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'You've done so much for us with your ideas on the Deep Freeze system, and your Efficiency Scheme.'

'It's all been a pleasure. And hospitality-wise you have all been more than kind. I only wish I could show my deep grat.i.tude in some more personal way,' replied Cousin Yellowstone, who was not to be outdone in the business of being polite.

'Well, there is just one little thing,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, seeing his chance and taking it with both paws. 'Knowing the scope of your organisation er Womble-wise would it be possible for you to trace a Human Being for us? His name is Donald Smith and he went to live in b.u.t.te, Montana, some twenty years ago. His father is now elderly and, I'm afraid, very poor and lonely. He would very much like to re-establish contact with his son. I could give you the old gentleman's address in Wimbledon . . . but perhaps it is too difficult a task?'

'It shall be done. I shall see to it personally,' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'Discreetly, of course; our Wombles in Public Relations work to keep our name out of the news.'

'Splendid, splendid,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'Dear me, what is going on?'

For the people in front of them had stopped and were all bunching together.

'I can't quite make out,' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'Oh yes, I see, it's the Royal car. It's just leaving and the photographers are taking pictures.'

Slowly the people moved on again, but the cameramen's flashbulbs continued to explode and as at the very end of the procession Great Uncle Bulgaria and Cousin Yellowstone descended the steps the photographers took their final pictures.

'What a day to remember this has been,' said Cousin Yellowstone as they drove away in a taxi. 'Yes, sir. I just wish I had some little memento to show my Wombles back home.'

And oddly enough his wish was granted, for two days later an elderly lady happened to leave her copy of The Times behind on the Common and when Bungo picked it up and took it to the burrow, there on the sports page was a photograph of Great Uncle Bulgaria and Cousin Yellowstone on the steps of the Royal entrance and underneath was the caption: Distinguished Visitors leave Wimbledon Tennis Tournament.

'Quite right too,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, and cut it out and signed it, and Tobermory whose temper was now back to normal framed it and they had a little party of old Wombles, at which Great Uncle Bulgaria made a speech and presented the picture to Cousin Yellowstone to show 'the Wombles back home'.

g*