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diff --git a/old/67238-0.txt b/old/67238-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8b27969..0000000 --- a/old/67238-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8918 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Still--William, by Richmal Crompton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Still--William - -Author: Richmal Crompton - -Release Date: January 23, 2022 [eBook #67238] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Alan, deaurider and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STILL--WILLIAM *** - - - - - - STILL--WILLIAM - - - - -[Illustration: “NOW YOU MUTH PLAY WITH ME,” LISPED VIOLET ELIZABETH, -SWEETLY. - -“I DON’T PLAY LITTLE GIRL’S GAMES,” ANSWERED THE DISGUSTED WILLIAM.] - - - - - STILL--WILLIAM - - BY - RICHMAL CROMPTON - - [Illustration] - - ILLUSTRATED BY - - THOMAS HENRY - - LONDON - GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED - SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND, W.C. - - - - - _First published_ _April 1925_ - _Reprinted_ _October 1925_ - _Reprinted_ _February 1926_ - _Reprinted_ _August 1926_ - _Reprinted_ _December 1926_ - _Reprinted_ _May 1927_ - _Reprinted_ _December 1927_ - _Reprinted_ _June 1928_ - _Reprinted_ _April 1929_ - _Reprinted_ _November 1929_ - _Reprinted_ _October 1930_ - - _Made and Printed in Great Britain by - Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London, Fakenham and Reading._ - - - - - TO - - COLONEL R. E. CROMPTON, C.B., R.E. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE BISHOP’S HANDKERCHIEF 13 - - II. HENRI LEARNS THE LANGUAGE 28 - - III. THE SWEET LITTLE GIRL IN WHITE 43 - - IV. WILLIAM TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF 64 - - V. A BIT OF BLACKMAIL 85 - - VI. WILLIAM THE MONEY-MAKER 97 - - VII. “THE HAUNTED HOUSE” 118 - - VIII. WILLIAM THE MATCH-MAKER 133 - - IX. WILLIAM’S TRUTHFUL CHRISTMAS 157 - - X. AN AFTERNOON WITH WILLIAM 177 - - XI. WILLIAM SPOILS THE PARTY 186 - - XII. THE CAT AND THE MOUSE 208 - - XIII. WILLIAM AND UNCLE GEORGE 217 - - XIV. WILLIAM AND SAINT VALENTINE 234 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE BISHOP’S HANDKERCHIEF - - -Until now William had taken no interest in his handkerchiefs as toilet -accessories. They were greyish (once white) squares useful for blotting -ink or carrying frogs or making lifelike rats to divert the long hours -of afternoon school, but otherwise he had had no pride or interest in -them. - -But last week, Ginger (a member of the circle known to themselves -as the Outlaws of which William was the leader) had received a -handkerchief as a birthday present from an aunt in London. William, on -hearing the news, had jeered, but the sight of the handkerchief had -silenced him. - -It was a large handkerchief, larger than William had conceived it -possible for handkerchiefs to be. It was made of silk, and contained -all the colours of the rainbow. Round the edge green dragons sported -upon a red ground. Ginger displayed it at first deprecatingly, fully -prepared for scorn and merriment, and for some moments the fate of the -handkerchief hung in the balance. But there was something about the -handkerchief that impressed them. - -“Kinder--funny,” said Henry critically. - -“Jolly big, isn’t it?” said Douglas uncertainly. - -“’S more like a _sheet_,” said William, wavering between scorn and -admiration. - -Ginger was relieved. At any rate they had taken it seriously. They had -not wept tears of mirth over it. That afternoon he drew it out of his -pocket with a flourish and airily wiped his nose with it. The next -morning Henry appeared with a handkerchief almost exactly like it, and -the day after that Douglas had one. William felt his prestige lowered. -He--the born leader--was the only one of the select circle who did not -possess a coloured silk handkerchief. - -That evening he approached his mother. - -“I don’t think white ones is much use,” he said. - -“Don’t scrape your feet on the carpet, William,” said his mother -placidly. “I thought white ones were the only tame kind--not that I -think your father will let you have any more. You know what he said -when they got all over the floor and bit his finger.” - -“I’m not talkin’ about _rats_,” said William. “I’m talkin’ about -handkerchiefs.” - -“Oh--handkerchiefs! White ones are far the best. They launder properly. -They come out a good colour--at least yours don’t, but that’s because -you get them so black--but there’s nothing better than white linen.” - -“Pers’nally,” said William with a judicial air, “I think silk’s better -than linen an’ white’s so tirin’ to look at. I think a kind of colour’s -better for your eyes. My eyes do ache a bit sometimes. I think it’s -prob’ly with keep lookin’ at white handkerchiefs.” - -“Don’t be silly, William. I’m not going to buy you silk handkerchiefs -to get covered with mud and ink and coal as yours do.” - -Mrs. Brown calmly cut off her darning wool as she spoke, and took -another sock from the pile by her chair. William sighed. - -“Oh, I wouldn’t do those things with a _silk_ one,” he said earnestly. -“It’s only because they’re _cotton_ ones I do those things.” - -“Linen,” corrected Mrs. Brown. - -“Linen an’ cotton’s the same,” said William, “it’s not _silk_. I -jus’ want a _silk_ one with colours an’ so on, that’s all. That’s -all I want. It’s not much. Just a _silk_ handkerchief with colours. -Surely----” - -“I’m _not_ going to buy you another _thing_, William,” said Mrs. Brown -firmly. “I had to get you a new suit and new collars only last month, -and your overcoat’s dreadful, because you _will_ crawl through the -ditch in it----” - -William resented this cowardly change of attack. - -“I’m not talkin’ about suits an’ collars an’ overcoats an’ so on----” -he said; “I’m talkin’ about _handkerchiefs_. I simply ask you if----” - -“If you want a silk handkerchief, William,” said Mrs. Brown decisively, -“you’ll have to buy one.” - -“Well!” said William, aghast at the unfairness of the remark--“Well, -jus’ fancy you sayin’ that to me when you know I’ve not got any money, -when you _know_ I’m not even _going_ to have any money for years an’ -years an’ years.” - -“You shouldn’t have broken the landing-window,” said Mrs. Brown. - -William was pained and disappointed. He had no illusions about his -father and elder brother, but he had expected more feeling and sympathy -from his mother. - -Determinedly, but not very hopefully, he went to his father, who was -reading a newspaper in the library. - -“You know, father,” said William confidingly, taking his seat upon the -newspaper rack, “I think white ones is all right for children--and -so on. Wot I mean to say is that when you get older coloured ones is -better.” - -“Really?” said his father politely. - -“Yes,” said William, encouraged. “They wouldn’t show dirt so, -either--not like white ones do. An’ they’re bigger, too. They’d be -cheaper in the end. They wouldn’t cost so much for laundry--an’ so on.” - -“Exactly,” murmured his father, turning over to the next page. - -“Well,” said William boldly, “if you’d very kin’ly buy me some, or one -would do, or I could buy them or it if you’d jus’ give me----” - -“As I haven’t the remotest idea what you’re talking about,” said his -father, “I don’t see how I can. Would you be so very kind as to remove -yourself from the newspaper rack for a minute and let me get the -evening paper? I’m so sorry to trouble you. Thank you so much.” - -“Handkerchiefs!” said William impatiently. “I keep telling you. It’s -_handkerchiefs_. I jus’ want a nice silk-coloured one, ’cause I think -it would last longer and be cheaper in the wash. That’s all. I think -the ones I have makes such a lot of trouble for the laundry. I jus’----” - -“Though deeply moved by your consideration for other people,” said Mr. -Brown, as he ran his eye down the financial column, “I may as well save -you any further waste of your valuable time and eloquence by informing -you at once that you won’t get a halfpenny out of me if you talk till -midnight.” - -William went with silent disgust and slow dignity from the room. - -Next he investigated Robert’s bedroom. He opened Robert’s -dressing-table drawer and turned over his handkerchiefs. He caught his -breath with surprise and pleasure. There it was beneath all Robert’s -other handkerchiefs--larger, silkier, more multi-coloured than Ginger’s -or Douglas’s or Henry’s. He gazed at it in ecstatic joy. He slipped it -into his pocket and, standing before the looking-glass, took it out -with a flourish, shaking its lustrous folds. He was absorbed in this -occupation when Robert entered. Robert looked at him with elder-brother -disapproval. - -“I told you that if I caught you playing monkey tricks in my room -again----” he began threateningly, glancing suspiciously at the bed, in -the “apple-pie” arrangements of which William was an expert. - -“I’m not, Robert,” said William with disarming innocence. “Honest I’m -not. I jus’ wanted to borrow a handkerchief. I thought you wun’t mind -lendin’ me a handkerchief.” - -“Well, I would,” said Robert shortly, “so you can jolly well clear out.” - -“It was this one I thought you wun’t mind lendin’ me,” said William. “I -wun’t take one of your nice white ones, but I thought you wun’t mind me -having this ole coloured dirty-looking one.” - -“Did you? Well, give it back to me.” - -Reluctantly William handed it back to Robert. - -“How much’ll you give it me for?” he said shortly. - -“Well, how much have you?” said Robert ruthlessly. - -“Nothin’--not jus’ at present,” admitted William. “But I’d _do_ -something for you for it. I’d do anythin’ you want done for it. You -just tell me what to do for it, an’ I’ll _do_ it.” - -“Well, you can--you can get the Bishop’s handkerchief for me, and then -I’ll give mine to you.” - -The trouble with Robert was that he imagined himself a wit. - -The trouble with William was that he took things literally. - - * * * * * - -The Bishop was expected in the village the next day. It was the great -event of the summer. He was a distant relation of the Vicar’s. He was -to open the Sale of Work, address a large meeting on temperance, spend -the night at the vicarage, and depart the next morning. - -The Bishop was a fatherly, simple-minded old man of seventy. He enjoyed -the Sale of Work except for one thing. Wherever he looked he met the -gaze of a freckled untidy frowning small boy. He could not understand -it. The boy seemed to be everywhere. The boy seemed to follow him -about. He came to the conclusion that it must be his imagination, but -it made him feel vaguely uneasy. - -Then he addressed the meeting on Temperance, his audience consisting -chiefly of adults. But, in the very front seat, the same earnest -frowning boy fixed him with a determined gaze. When the Bishop first -encountered this gaze he became slightly disconcerted, and lost his -place in his notes. Then he tried to forget the disturbing presence -and address his remarks to the middle of the hall. But there was -something hypnotic in the small boy’s gaze. In the end the Bishop -yielded to it. He fixed his eyes obediently upon William. He harangued -William earnestly and forcibly upon the necessity of self-control and -the effect of alcohol upon the liver. And William returned his gaze -unblinkingly. - -After the meeting William wandered down the road to the Vicarage. He -pondered gloomily over his wasted afternoon. Fate had not thrown the -Bishop’s handkerchief in his path. But he did not yet despair. - -On the way he met Ginger. Ginger drew out his interminable coloured -handkerchief and shook it proudly. - -“D’ye mean to _say_,” he said to William, “that you still use those old -_white_ ones?” - -William looked at him with cold scorn. - -“I’m too busy to bother with you jus’ now,” he said. - -Ginger went on. - -William looked cautiously through the Vicarage hedge. Nothing was to be -seen. He crawled inside the garden and round to the back of the house, -which was invisible from the road. The Bishop was tired after his -address. He lay outstretched upon a deck-chair beneath a tree. - -Over the head and face of His Lordship was stretched a large superfine -linen handkerchief. William’s set stern expression brightened. On hands -and knees he began to crawl through the grass towards the portly form, -his tongue protruding from his pursed lips. - -Crouching behind the chair, he braced himself for the crime; he -measured the distance between the chair and the garden gate. - -One, two, three--then suddenly the portly form stirred, the -handkerchief was firmly withdrawn by a podgy hand, and a dignified -voice yawned and said: “Heigh-ho!” - -At the same moment the Bishop sat up. William, from his refuge behind -the chair, looked wildly round. The door of the house was opening. -There was only one thing to do. William was as nimble as a monkey. Like -a flash of lightning he disappeared up the tree. It was a very leafy -tree. It completely concealed William, but William had a good bird’s -eye view of the world beneath him. The Vicar came out rubbing his hands. - -“You rested, my Lord?” he said. - -“I’m afraid I’ve had forty winks,” said His Lordship pleasantly. “Just -dropped off, you know. I dreamt about that boy who was at the meeting -this afternoon.” - -“What boy, my Lord?” asked the Vicar. - -“I noticed him at the Sale of Work and the meeting--he looked--he -looked a soulful boy. I daresay you know him.” - -The Vicar considered. - -“I can’t think of any boy round here like that,” he said. - -The Bishop sighed. - -“He may have been a stranger, of course,” he said meditatively. -“It seemed an earnest _questing_ face--as if the boy wanted -something--_needed_ something. I hope my little talk helped him.” - -“Without doubt it did, my Lord,” said the Vicar politely. “I thought we -might dine out here--the days draw out so pleasantly now.” - -Up in his tree, William with smirks and hand-rubbing and mincing -(though soundless) movements of his lips kept up a running imitation -of the Vicar’s speech, for the edification apparently of a caterpillar -which was watching him intently. - -[Illustration: THE BENT PIN CAUGHT THE BISHOP’S EAR, AND THE BISHOP SAT -UP WITH A LITTLE SCREAM.] - -The Vicar went in to order dinner in the garden. The Bishop drew the -delicate handkerchief once more over his rubicund features. In the tree -William abandoned his airy pastime, and his face took on again the -expression of soulful earnestness that had pleased the Bishop. - -The breast of the Bishop on the lawn began to rise and sink. The figure -of the Vicar was visible at the study window as he gazed with fond -pride upon the slumbers of his distinguished guest. William dared not -descend in view of that watching figure. Finally it sat down in a chair -by the window and began to read a book. - -[Illustration: FROM THE TREE WILLIAM MADE A LAST DESPERATE EFFORT.] - -Then William began to act. He took from his pocket a bent pin attached -to a piece of string. This apparatus lived permanently in his pocket, -because he had not given up hope of catching a trout in the village -stream. He lowered this cautiously and drew the bent pin carefully on -to the white linen expanse. - -It caught--joy! - -“Phut!” said the Bishop, bringing down his hand heavily, not on the -pin, but near it. - -The pin was loosened--William drew it back cautiously up into the tree, -and the Bishop settled himself once more to his slumbers. - -Again the pin descended--again it caught. - -“Phut!” said the Bishop, testily shaking the handkerchief, and again -loosening the pin. - -Leaning down from his leafy retreat William made one last desperate -effort. He drew the bent pin sharply across. It missed the handkerchief -and it caught the Bishop’s ear. The Bishop sat up with a scream. -William, pin and string, withdrew into the shade of the branches. -“Crumbs!” said William desperately to the caterpillar, “talk about bad -_luck!_” - -The Vicar ran out from the house, full of concern at the sound of the -Bishop’s scream. - -“I’ve been badly stung in the ear by some insect,” said the Bishop in a -voice that was pained and dignified. “Some virulent tropical insect, I -should think--very painful. Very painful indeed----” - -“My Lord,” said the Vicar, “I am so sorry--so very sorry--a thousand -pardons--can I procure some remedy for you--vaseline, ammonia--er--cold -cream----?” Up in the tree the pantomimic imitation of him went on much -to William’s satisfaction. - -“No, no, no, no,” snapped the Bishop. “This must be a bad place for -insects, that’s all. Even before that some heavy creatures came banging -against my handkerchief. I put my handkerchief over my face for a -protection. If I had failed to do that I should have been badly stung.” - -“Shall we dine indoors, then, my Lord?” said the Vicar. - -“Oh, no, no, NO!” said the Bishop impatiently. - -The Vicar sat down upon his chair. William collected a handful of -acorns and began to drop them one by one upon the Vicar’s bald head. He -did this simply because he could not help it. The sight of the Vicar’s -bald head was irresistible. Each time an acorn struck the Vicar’s bald -head it bounced up into the air, and the Vicar put up his hand and -rubbed his head. At first he tried to continue his conversation on the -state of the parish finances with the Bishop, but his replies became -distrait and incoherent. He moved his chair slightly. William moved the -position of his arm and continued to drop acorns. - -At last the Bishop noticed it. - -“The acorns seem to be falling,” he said. - -The Vicar rubbed his head again. - -“Don’t they?” he said. - -“Rather early,” commented the Bishop. - -“Isn’t it?” he said as another acorn bounced upon his head. - -The Bishop began to take quite an interest in the unusual phenomenon. - -“I shouldn’t be surprised if there was some sort of blight in that -tree,” he said. “It would account for the premature dropping of the -acorns and for the insects that attacked me.” - -“Exactly,” said the Vicar irritably, as yet another acorn hit him. -William’s aim was unerring. - -Here a diversion was caused by the maid who came out to lay the -table. They watched her in silence. The Vicar moved his chair again, -and William, after pocketing his friend the caterpillar, shifted his -position in the tree again to get a better aim. - -“Do you know,” said the Bishop, “I believe that there is a cat in the -tree. Several times I have heard a slight rustling.” - -It would have been better for William to remain silent, but -William’s genius occasionally misled him. He was anxious to prevent -investigation; to prove once for all his identity as a cat. - -He leant forward and uttered a re-echoing “Mi-_aw-aw-aw!_” - -As imitations go it was rather good. - -There was a slight silence. Then: - -“It _is_ a cat,” said the Bishop in triumph. - -“Excuse me, my Lord,” said the Vicar. - -He went softly into the house and returned holding a shoe. - -“This will settle his feline majesty,” he smiled. - -Then he hurled the shoe violently into the tree. - -“Sh! Scoot!” he said as he did it. - -William was annoyed. The shoe narrowly missed his face. He secured it -and waited. - -“I hope you haven’t lost the shoe,” said the Bishop anxiously. - -“Oh, no. The gardener’s boy or someone will get it for me. It’s the -best thing to do with cats. It’s probably scared it on to the roof.” - -He settled himself in his chair comfortably with a smile. - -William leant down, held the shoe deliberately over the bald head, then -dropped it. - -“_Damn!_” said the Vicar. “Excuse me, my Lord.” - -“H’m,” said the Bishop. “Er--yes--most annoying. It lodged in a branch -for a time probably, and then obeyed the force of gravity.” - -The Vicar was rubbing his head. William wanted to enjoy the sight of -the Vicar rubbing his head. He moved a little further up the branch. He -forgot all caution. He forgot that the branch on which he was was not a -very secure branch, and that the further up he moved the less secure it -became. - -There was the sound of a rending and a crashing, and on to the table -between the amazed Vicar and Bishop descended William’s branch and -William. - -The Bishop gazed at him. “Why, that’s the boy,” he said. - -William sat up among the debris of broken glasses and crockery. He -discovered that he was bruised and that his hand was cut by one of the -broken glasses. He extricated himself from the branch and the table, -and stood rubbing his bruises and sucking his hand. - -“Crumbs!” was all he said. - -The Vicar was gazing at him speechlessly. - -“You know, my boy,” said the Bishop in mild reproach, “that’s a very -curious thing to do--to hide up there for the purpose of eavesdropping. -I know that you are an earnest, well-meaning little boy, and that you -were interested in my address this afternoon, and I daresay you were -hoping to listen to me again, but this is my time for relaxation, you -know. Suppose the Vicar and I had been talking about something we -didn’t want you to hear? I’m sure you wouldn’t like to listen to things -people didn’t want you to hear, would you?” - -William stared at him in unconcealed amazement. The Vicar, with growing -memories of acorns and shoes and “damns” and with murder in his heart, -was picking up twigs and broken glass. He knew that he could not, in -the Bishop’s presence, say the things to William and do the things to -William that he wanted to do and say. He contented himself with saying: - -“You’d better go home now. Tell your father I’ll be coming to see him -to-morrow.” - -“A well-meaning little boy, I’m sure,” said the Bishop kindly, -“well-meaning, but unwise--er--unwise--but your attentiveness during -the meeting did you credit, my boy--did you credit.” - -William, for all his ingenuity, could think of no remark suitable to -the occasion. - -“Hurry up,” said the Vicar. - -William turned to go. He knew when he was beaten. He had spent -a lot of time and trouble and had not even secured the episcopal -handkerchief. He had bruised himself and cut himself. He understood -the Vicar’s veiled threat. He saw his already distant chances of -pocket-money vanish into nothingness when the cost of the Vicar’s -glasses and plates was added to the landing window. He wouldn’t have -minded if he’d got the handkerchief. He wouldn’t have minded anything -if---- - -“Don’t suck your hand, my boy,” said the Bishop. “An open cut like that -is most dangerous. Poison works into the system by it. You remember -I told you how the poison of alcohol works into the system--well, -any kind of poison can work into it by a cut--don’t suck it; keep it -covered up--haven’t you a handkerchief?--here, take mine. You needn’t -trouble to return it. It’s an old one.” - -The Bishop was deeply touched by what he called the “bright -spirituality” of the smile with which William thanked him. - - * * * * * - -William, limping slightly, his hand covered by a grimy rag, came out -into the garden, drawing from his pocket with a triumphant flourish an -enormous violently-coloured silk handkerchief. Robert, who was weeding -the rose-bed, looked up. “Here,” he called, “you can jolly well go and -put that handkerchief of mine back.” - -William continued his limping but proud advance. - -“’S’ all right,” he called airily, “the Bishop’s is on your -dressing-table.” - -Robert dropped the trowel. - -“Gosh!” he gasped, and hastened indoors to investigate. - -William went down to the gate, smiling very slightly to himself. - -“The days are drawing out so pleasantly,” he was saying to himself in -a mincing accent. “Vaseline--ammonia--er--or cold cream----Damn!” - -He leant over the gate, took out his caterpillar, satisfied himself -that it was still alive, put it back and looked up and down the road. -In the distance he caught sight of the figure of his friend. - -“Gin--_ger_,” he yelled in hideous shrillness. - -He waved his coloured handkerchief carelessly in greeting as he called. -Then he swaggered out into the road.... - - - - -CHAPTER II - -HENRI LEARNS THE LANGUAGE - - -It was Joan who drew William and the Outlaws from their immemorial -practice of playing at Pirates and Red Indians. - -“I’m tired of being a squaw,” she said plaintively, “an’ I’m tired of -walking the plank an’ I want to be something else an’ do something -else.” - -Joan was the only girl whose existence the Outlaws officially -recognised. This was partly owing to Joan’s own personal attractiveness -and partly to the fact that an admiration for Joan was the only human -weakness of their manly leader, William. Thus Joan was admitted to -all such games as required the female element. The others she was -graciously allowed to watch. - -They received her outburst with pained astonishment. - -“Well,” said Ginger coldly, “wot else is there to do an’ be?” - -Ginger felt that the very foundation of the Society of Outlaws was -being threatened. The Outlaws had played at Red Indians and Pirates -since their foundation. - -“Let’s play at being ordinary people,” said Joan. - -“Ordinary people----!” exploded Douglas. “There’s no _playin’_ in bein’ -_ordinary_ people. Wot’s the good----?” - -“Let’s be Jasmine Villas,” said Joan, warming to her theme. “We’ll each -be a person in Jasmine Villas----” - -William, who had so far preserved a judicial silence, now said: - -“I don’ mind playin’ ornery people s’long as we don’ do ornery things.” - -“Oh, no, William,” said Joan with the air of meekness with which she -always received William’s oracles, “we needn’t do ornery things.” - -“Then bags me be ole Mr. Burwash.” - -“And me Miss Milton next door,” said Joan hastily. - -The Outlaws were beginning to see vague possibilities in the game. - -“An’ me Mr. Luton,” said Ginger. - -“An’ me Mr. Buck,” said Douglas. - -Henry, the remaining outlaw, looked around him indignantly. Jasmine -Villas only contained four houses. - -“An’ wot about _me?_” he said. - -“Oh, you be a policeman wot walks about outside,” said William. - -Henry, mollified, began to practise a commanding strut. - -In the field behind the old barn that was the scene of most of their -activities they began to construct Jasmine Villas by boundary lines of -twigs. Each inhabitant took up their position inside a twig-encircled -enclosure, and Henry paraded officiously around. - -“Now we’ll jus’ have a minute to think of what things to do,” said -William, “an’ then I’ll begin.” - - * * * * * - -William was sitting in his back garden thinking out exploits to perform -that afternoon in the character of Mr. Burwash. The game of Jasmine -Villas had “taken on” beyond all expectation. Mr. Burwash stole Miss -Milton’s washing during her afternoon siesta, Mr. Buck locked up Mr. -Luton in his coal cellar and ate up all his provisions, and always -the entire population of Jasmine Villas was chased round the field -by Henry, the policeman, several times during a game. Often some of -them were arrested, tried, condemned and imprisoned by the stalwart -Henry, to be rescued later by a joint force of the other inhabitants of -Jasmine Villas. - -William, sitting on an inverted flower pot, absent-mindedly chewing -grass and throwing sticks for his mongrel, Jumble, to worry, was -wondering whether (in his rôle of Mr. Burwash) it would be more -exciting to go mad and resist the ubiquitous Henry’s efforts to take -him to an asylum, or marry Miss Milton. The only drawback to the -latter plan was that they had provided no clergyman. However, perhaps -a policeman would do.... Finally he decided that it would be more -exciting to go mad and leave Miss Milton to someone else. - -“’Ello!” - -A thin, lugubrious face appeared over the fence that separated -William’s garden from the next door garden. - -“’Ello!” replied William, throwing it a cold glance and returning to -his pastime of entertaining Jumble. - -“I weesh to leearn ze Eengleesh,” went on the owner of the lugubrious -face. “My godmother ’ere she talk ze correct Eengleesh. It ees ze -idiomatic Eengleesh I weesh to leearn--how you call it?--ze slang. You -talk ze slang--ees it not?” - -William gave the intruder a devastating glare, gathering up his twigs -and with a commanding “Hi, Jumble,” set off round the side of the house. - -“Oh, William!” - -William sighed as he recognised his mother’s voice. This was followed -by his mother’s head which appeared at the open drawing-room window. - -“I’m busy _jus’_ now----” said William sternly. - -“William, Mrs. Frame next door has a godson staying with her and he is -so anxious to mix with boys and learn colloquial English. I’ve asked -him to tea this afternoon. Oh here he is.” - -The owner of the thin lugubrious face--a young man of about -eighteen--appeared behind William. - -“I made a way--’ow say you?--through a ’ole in ze fence. I weeshed to -talk wiz ze boy.” - -“Well, now, William,” said Mrs. Brown persuasively, “you might spend -the afternoon with Henri and talk to him.” - -William’s face was a study in horror and indignation. - -“I shan’t know what to say to him,” he said desperately. “I can’t talk -his kind of talk.” - -“I’m sure that’ll be quite all right,” said Mrs. Brown, kindly. “He -speaks English very well. Just talk to him simply and naturally.” - -She brought the argument to an end by closing the window and leaving an -embittered William to undertake his new responsibility. - -“’Ave you a ’oliday zis afternoon,” began his new responsibility. - -“I ’ave,” said William simply and naturally. - -“Zen we weel talk,” said Henri with enthusiasm. “We weel talk an’ you -weel teach to me ze slang.” - -“’Fraid I’ve gotter play a game this afternoon,” said William icily as -they set off down the road. - -“I weel play,” said Henri pleasantly, “I like ze games.” - -“I’m fraid,” said William with equal pleasantness, “there won’t be no -room for you.” - -“I weel watch zen,” said Henri, “I like too ze watching.” - - * * * * * - -Henri, who had spent the afternoon watching the game, was on his way -home. He had enjoyed watching the game. He had watched a realistically -insane Mr. Burwash resist all attempts at capture on the part of the -local policeman. He had watched Mr. Luton propose to Miss Milton, -and he had watched Mr. Buck in his end house being gloriously and -realistically drunk. This was an accomplishment of Douglas’s that was -forbidden at home under threat of severe punishment, but it was greatly -appreciated by the Outlaws. - -Henri walked along jauntily, practising slang to himself. - -“Oh, ze Crumbs ... oh, ze Crikey ... ze jolly well ... righto ... git -out ... ze bash on the mug....” - -General Moult--fat and important-looking--came breezily down the road. - -“Ah, Henri ... how are you getting on?” - -“Ze jolly well,” said Henri. - -“Been for a walk?” said the General yet more breezily. - -“Non.... I been to Jasmine Villas.... Oh, ze Crumbs.... I see ole -Meester Burwash go--’ow you say it?--off ze head--out of ze chump.” - -“_What?_” - -“Oh, yes,” said Henri, “an’ the policeman ’e come an’ try to take ’im -away an’ ’e fight an’ fight, an’ ze policeman ’e go for ’elp----” - -The General’s mouth was hanging open in amazement. - -“B-but, are you _sure?_” he gasped. - -“Oh, yes,” said Henri cheerfully. “I ’ave _been_ zere. I ’ave ze jolly -well watch eet.” - -“But, good heavens!” said the General, and hastened in the direction of -Jasmine Villas. - -Henri sauntered on by himself. - -“Ze ’oly aunt ... a’right ... ze boose ...” he murmured softly. - -At the corner of the road he ran into Mr. Graham Graham. Mr. Graham -Graham was tall and lank, with pince-nez and an earnest expression. Mr. -Graham Graham’s earnest expression did not belie his character. He was, -among other things, the President of the local Temperance Society. He -had met Henri with his godmother the day before. - -“Well, Henri,” he said earnestly. “And how have you been spending your -time?” - -“I ’ave been to Jasmine Villas,” said Henri. - -“Ah, yes--to whom----?” - -Henri interrupted. - -“An’ I ’ave seen Meester Buck ... oh, ze crumbs ... ’ow say you? ... -tight ... boozed ... derrunk.” - -Mr. Graham Graham paled. - -“Never!” he said. - -Mr. Buck was the Secretary of the local Temperance Society. - -“Oh, yes, ze ’oly aunt!” said Henri, “ze policeman ’e ’elp ’im into the -’ouse--’e was, ’ow say you? ro-o-o-o-olling.” - -“This is impossible,” said Mr. Graham Graham sternly. - -“I ’ave seed it,” said Henri simply. “I laugh ... oh, ze Crikey ... -_’ow_ I laugh....” - -Mr. Graham Graham turned upon Henri a cold condemning silent glance -then set off in the direction of Jasmine Villas. - -Henri wandered homewards. - -He met his godmother coming out of her front gate. - -“We’re going to Mrs. Brown’s to tea, you know, Henri,” she reminded him. - -“A’right,” said Henri. “A’right--righto.” - -He accompanied her to Mrs. Brown’s. - -“And did you spend the afternoon with William?” said Mrs. Brown -pleasantly. - -“Oh, yes,” said Henri as he sat down comfortably by the fire, “at ze -Jasmine Villas.... Mr. Luton ’e kees Miss Milton in the garden.” - -Henri’s godmother dropped her buttered scone. - -“_Nonsense!_” she said. - -“’E did,” said Henri calmly. “I ’ave seed ’im. An’ she gave ’im--’ow -say you?--ze bash on ze mug. But she tell me she goin’ to marry -’im--righto.” - -“She _told_ you?” gasped Mrs. Brown. - -“Oh, yes,” said Henri, “she tell me so ’erself.” - -Both Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother were pale. - -“Do you think she doesn’t know that he’s married and separated from his -wife?” said Henri’s godmother. - -“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Brown. “I feel that I can’t eat a thing now. -Someone ought to tell her at once.” - -“Let’s go,” said Henri’s godmother suddenly, “before she tells anyone -else. The poor woman!” - -They went out quickly, leaving Henri alone in the drawing-room. Henri -chose a large sugared cake and began to munch it. - -“Ze jolly well good,” he commented contentedly. - - * * * * * - -The General approached Mr. Burwash’s house cautiously. There was no -sign of a disturbance. Evidently the policeman had not yet returned -with help. The General entered the garden and went on tiptoe to the -morning-room window. He was full of curiosity. There was the madman. -He was sitting at a table with his back to the window. There was a mad -look about his very back. The General was suddenly inspired by the idea -of making the capture single-handed. It would be a glorious page in the -annals of the village. The front door was open. The General entered -and walked very slowly down the hall. The morning-room door was open. -It was here that the General made the painful discovery that his boots -squeaked. The squeaking would undoubtedly attract the attention of the -lunatic as he entered. The General had another inspiration. He dropped -down upon his hands and knees. He could thus make his way unseen -and unheard to the back of the madman, then spring to his feet and -overpower him. - -He entered the room. - -He reached the middle of the room. - -Then Mr. Burwash turned round. - -Mr. Burwash was met by the sight of the General creeping gingerly and -delicately across his morning-room carpet on hands and knees. Mr. -Burwash leapt to the not unreasonable conclusion that the General had -gone mad. Mr. Burwash knew that a madman must be humoured. He also -dropped upon his hands and knees. - -“Bow-wow!” he said. - -If the General thought he was a dog, the General must be humoured. - -“Bow-wow!” promptly replied the General. - -The General also knew that madmen must be humoured. - -They continued this conversation for several minutes. - -Then Mr. Burwash, intent on escape, made a leap towards the door, and -the General, intent on capture, made a leap to intercept him. - -They leapt about the room excitedly uttering short, shrill barks. -The General never quite knew what made him change into a cat. It -was partly that he was tired of barking and partly that he hoped to -lure Mr. Burwash after him into the more open space of the hall and -there overpower him. Mr. Burwash’s pursuit was realistic, and the -General, violently chased into the hall, decided to leave the capture -to the police after all, and made for the hall door. But a furiously -barking Mr. Burwash cut off his retreat. The General, still miaowing -unconsciously in a high treble voice, scampered on all fours up the -stairs and took refuge in a small room at the top, slamming the door -against the pursuing lunatic. The key was turned in the lock from -outside. - -At the top of the stairs Mr. Burwash stood trembling slightly, and -wiped his brow. A violent sound of kicking came from the locked room. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother heard vaguely the distant sounds of -the kicking next door, but their delicate interview with Miss Milton -was taking all their attention. - -Miss Milton, who had been to see a girl whom she was engaging as -housemaid for Mr. Luton, was just taking off her things. Miss Milton -kept a purely maternal eye upon Mr. Luton. - -“You know, dear,” said Henri’s godmother, “we felt we had to come and -tell you as soon as we heard the news. He’s got one already.” - -“Who?” said Miss Milton, angular and severe looking. - -“Mr. Luton.” - -“He might have told me,” said Miss Milton. - -“But she’s left him,” put in Mrs. Brown. - -“Then I’d better see about providing him with another,” said Miss -Milton. - -“She--she’s not divorced,” gasped Mrs. Brown. - -“I should hope not,” said Miss Milton primly. “I’m always most -particular about that sort of thing.” - -“But when we heard he’d been seen kissing you----” said Henri’s -godmother. - -Miss Milton gave a piercing scream. - -“ME?” she said. - -“Yes, when we heard that Mr. Luton had been seen----” - -Miss Milton gave a still more piercing scream. - -“Slanderers,” she shrieked, “vampires....” - -She advanced upon them quivering with rage. - -“I’m so sorry,” gasped Mrs. Brown retreating precipitately. “Quite a -mistake ... a misunderstanding....” - -“Liars ... hypocrites ... snakes in the grass!” screamed Miss Milton, -still advancing. - -Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother fled trembling to the road. Miss -Milton’s screams still rent the air. There, two curious sights met -their eyes. The General and Mr. Graham Graham were making their exits -from the two end houses in unconventional fashion. Mr. Graham Graham -fell down the steps and rolled down the garden path to the road. An -infuriated Mr. Buck watched his departure. - -“I’ll teach you to come and insult respectable people,” shouted Mr. -Buck. “Drunkard indeed! And I’ve been Secretary of the Temperance -Society for forty years. You’re drunk, let me tell you----” - -Mr. Graham Graham, still sitting in the road, put on his hat. - -“I’m not drunk,” he said with dignity. - -“I’ll have the law on you,” shouted Mr. Buck. “It’s libel, that’s what -it is----” - -Mr. Graham Graham gathered together his collar ends and tried to find -his stud. - -“I merely repeat what I’ve heard,” he said. - -Mr. Buck slammed the door and Mr. Graham Graham staggered to his feet. - -Then he stood open-mouthed, his eyes fixed on the other end house. -The stout figure of the General could be seen emerging from a small -first floor window and making a slow and ungraceful descent down a -drain pipe. It was noticed that he had no hat and that his knees were -very dusty. Once on the ground he ran wildly across the garden into -the road, almost charging the little group who were watching him. With -pale, horror-struck faces the four of them gazed at each other. - -“Henri told me----” all four began simultaneously, then stopped. - -“D-do come and have some tea,” said Mrs. Brown hysterically. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: AT THE WINDOW HENRI EXCLAIMED SHRILLY, “OH, ZE ’OLY -AUNT!” AND THE OUTLAWS HASTILY JOINED HIM.] - -William was leading his Outlaws quietly round from the front gate to -the back of the house, passing the drawing-room window on tiptoe. -Suddenly William stopped dead, gazing with interest into the -drawing-room. The expected tea party was not there. Only Henri still -eating sugar cakes, was there. William put his head through the open -window. - -[Illustration: FOUR PEOPLE WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD--FOUR VERY ANGRY -PEOPLE.] - -“I say,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “they been an’ gone?” - -“Oh, yes,” smiled Henri, “they been an’ gone--righto.” - -“Come on!” said William to his followers. - -They crept into the hall and then guiltily into the drawing-room. -William looked at the plates of dainty food with widening eyes. - -“Shu’ly,” he remarked plaintively, “’f they’ve been an’ gone they can’t -mind us jus’ finishin’ up what they’ve left. _Shu’ly._” - -William made this statement less at the dictates of truth than at the -dictates of an empty stomach. - -“Jus’--jus’ look out of the window, Ongry,” he said, “an’ tell us if -anyone comes.” - -Henri obligingly took up his position at the window and the Outlaws -gave themselves up whole-heartedly to the task of “finishing up.” - -They finished up the buttered scones and they finished up the bread and -butter and they finished up the sandwiches and they finished up the -biscuits and they finished up the small cakes and they finished up the -two large cakes. - -“I’m jus’ a bit tired of this ole Jasmine Villas game,” said William, -his mouth full of sugar cake. “I votes we go back to Pirates an’ Red -Injuns to-morrow.” - -The Outlaws, who were still busy, agreed with grunts. - -“I think----” began Douglas, but just then Henri at the window -ejaculated shrilly, “Oh, ze ’oly aunt.” - -The Outlaws hastily joined him. Four people were coming down the road. -The General--_could_ it be the General? (the drain pipe had been very -dirty)--Mr. Graham Graham, his collar open, his tie awry, Henri’s -godmother with her hat on one side, and Mrs. Brown, her usual look of -placid equanimity replaced by a look that was almost wild. They were -certainly coming to the Browns’ house. William looked guiltily at the -empty plates and cakestand. Except upon the carpet (for the Outlaws -were not born drawing-room eaters) there was not a crumb to be seen. - -“P’raps,” said William hastily to his friends, “p’raps we’d better go -now.” - -His friends agreed. - -They went as quietly and unostentatiously as possible by way of the -back regions. - -Henri remained at the window. He watched the curious quartette as they -came in at the gate. - -Details of their appearance, unnoticed before, became clear as they -drew nearer. - -“Ze Crumbs _an’_ ze Crikey!” ejaculated Henri. - - * * * * * - -It was two hours later. William sat disconsolately upon the upturned -plant pot throwing stones half-heartedly at the fence. Jumble sat -disconsolately by him snapping half-heartedly at flies. The Outlaws had -nobly shared the sugar cakes with Jumble and he was just beginning to -wish that they hadn’t.... - -Suddenly Henri’s face appeared at the top of the fence. - -“’Ello!” he said. - -“’Ello!” sighed William. - -“Zey talk to me,” said Henri sadly, “_’ow_ zey talk to me jus’ because -I tell ’em about your leetle game.” - -“Yes,” said William bitterly, “and _’ow_ they talk to me jus’ ’cause we -finished up a few ole cakes and things left over from tea. You’d think -to hear ’em that they’d have been glad to come home and find me starved -dead.” - -Henri leant yet further over the fence. - -“But zey looked ... _’ow_ zey looked!” - -There was silence for a moment while the mental vision of “’ow zey -looked” came to both. Then William’s rare laugh--unmusical and -penetrating--rang out. Mrs. Brown, who was suffering from a severe -headache as the result of the events of the afternoon, hastily closed -the drawing-room window. Followed Henri’s laugh--high-pitched and like -the neighing of a horse. Henri’s godmother tore herself with a groan -from the bed on which she was indulging in a nervous breakdown and -flung up her bedroom window. - -“Henri, are you ill?” she cried. “What is it?” - -“Oh, ze nosings,” replied Henri. - -Then, leaning yet more dangerously over the fence, “What ze game you -goin’ to play to-morrow, Willem?” - -“Pirates,” said William, regaining his usual calm. “Like to come?” - -“Oh, ze jolly well righto yes!” said Henri. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE SWEET LITTLE GIRL IN WHITE - - -The Hall stood empty most of the year, but occasionally tenants -re-awoke the passing interest of the village in it. This summer it -was taken by a Mr. and Mrs. Bott with their daughter. Mr. Bott’s -name decorated most of the hoardings of his native country. On -these hoardings citizens of England were urged to safeguard their -digestion by taking Bott’s Sauce with their meat. After reading Bott’s -advertisements one felt convinced that any food without Bott’s Sauce -was rank poison. One even felt that it would be safer to live on Bott’s -Sauce alone. On such feelings had Mr. Bott--as rubicund and rotund as -one of his own bottles of sauce--reared a fortune sufficient to enable -him to take the Hall for the summer without, as the saying is, turning -a hair. - -William happened to be sitting on the fence by the side of the -road when the motor containing Mr. and Mrs. Bott--both stout and -overdressed--and Miss Violet Elizabeth Bott and Miss Violet Elizabeth -Bott’s nurse flashed by. William was not interested. He was at the -moment engaged in whittling a stick and watching the antics of his -mongrel, Jumble, as he caught and worried each shaving. But he had -a glimpse of a small child with an elaborately curled head and an -elaborately flounced white dress sitting by an elaborately uniformed -nurse. He gazed after the equipage scowling. - -“Huh!” he said, and it is impossible to convey in print the scorn of -that monosyllable as uttered by William, “_a girl!_” - -Then he returned to his whittling. - - * * * * * - -William’s mother met Mrs. Bott at the Vicar’s. Mrs. Bott, who always -found strangers more sympathetic than people who knew her well, -confided her troubles to Mrs. Brown. Her troubles included her -own rheumatism, Mr. Bott’s liver, and the carelessness of Violet -Elizabeth’s nurse. - -“Always reading these here novelettes, the girl is. I hope you’ll -come and see me, dear, and didn’t some one say you had a little boy? -Do bring him. I want Violet Elizabeth to get to know some nice little -children.” - -Mrs. Brown hesitated. She was aware that none of her acquaintances -would have described William as a nice little child. Mrs. Bott -misunderstood her hesitation. She laid a fat ringed hand on her knee. - -“I know, dear. You’re careful who the little laddie knows, like me. -Well now, you needn’t worry. I’ve brought up our Violet Elizabeth most -particular. She’s a girlie who wouldn’t do your little boysie any -harm----” - -“Oh,” gasped Mrs. Brown, “it’s not that.” - -“Then you’ll come, dearie, and bring the little boysie with you, won’t -you?” - -She took Mrs. Brown’s speechlessness for consent. - - * * * * * - -“_Me?_” said William indignantly. “Me go to tea with that ole girl? -_Me?_” - -“She--she’s a nice little girl,” said Mrs. Brown weakly. - -“I saw her,” said William scathingly, “curls and things.” - -“Well, you must come. She’s expecting you.” - -“I only hope,” said William sternly, “that she won’t ’spect me to -_talk_ to her.” - -“She’ll expect you to _play_ with her, I’m sure,” said his mother. - -“Play?” said William. “_Play?_ With a girl? _Me?_ Huh!” - -William, pale and proud, and dressed in his best suit, his heart -steeled to his humiliating fate, went with his mother to the Hall the -next week. He was silent all the way there. His thoughts were too deep -for words. Mrs. Brown watched him anxiously. - -An over-dressed Mrs. Bott was sitting in an over-furnished -drawing-room. She rose at once with an over-effusive smile and held out -over-ringed hands. - -“So you’ve brought dear little boysie,” she began. - -The over-effusive smile died away before the look that William turned -on her. - -“Er--I hadn’t thought of him quite like that,” she said weakly, “but -I’m sure he’s sweet,” she added hastily. - -William greeted her coldly and politely, then took his seat and sat -like a small statue scowling in front of him. His hair had been brushed -back with so much vigour and application of liquid that it looked as if -it were painted on his head. - -“Would you like to look at a picture book, boysie?” she said. - -William did not answer. He merely looked at her and she hastily turned -away to talk to Mrs. Brown. She talked about her rheumatism and Mr. -Bott’s liver and the incompetence of Violet Elizabeth’s nurse. - -Then Violet Elizabeth entered. Violet Elizabeth’s fair hair was not -naturally curly but as the result of great daily labour on the part -of the much maligned nurse it stood up in a halo of curls round her -small head. The curls looked almost, if not quite, natural. Violet -Elizabeth’s small pink and white face shone with cleanliness. Violet -Elizabeth was so treasured and guarded and surrounded with every care -that her small pink and white face had never been known to do anything -else except shine with cleanliness. But the _pièce de résistance_ -about Violet Elizabeth’s appearance was her skirts. Violet Elizabeth -was dressed in a white lace trimmed dress with a blue waistband, and -beneath the miniature blue waistband her skirts stood out like a tiny -ballet dancer’s in a filmy froth of lace trimmed petticoats. From this -cascade emerged Violet Elizabeth’s bare legs, to disappear ultimately -into white silk socks and white buckskin shoes. - -William gazed at this engaging apparition in horror. - -“Good afternoon,” said Violet Elizabeth primly. - -“Good afternoon,” said William in a hollow voice. - -“Take the little boysie into the garden, Violet Elizabeth,” said her -mother, “and play with him nicely.” - -William and Violet Elizabeth eyed each other apprehensively. - -“Come along, boy,” said Violet Elizabeth at last, holding out a hand. - -William ignored the hand and with the air of a hero bound to his -execution, accompanied Violet Elizabeth into the garden. - -Mrs. Brown’s eyes followed them anxiously. - - * * * * * - -“Whath your name?” said Violet Elizabeth. - -She lisped! She would, thought William bitterly, with those curls and -those skirts. She would. He felt at any rate relieved that none of his -friends could see him in the unmanly situation--talking to a kid like -that--all eyes and curls and skirts. - -“William Brown,” he said distantly, looking over her head as if he did -not see her. - -“How old are you?” - -“Eleven.” - -“My nameth Violet Elizabeth.” - -He received the information in silence. - -“I’m thix.” - -He made no comment. He examined the distant view with an abstracted -frown. - -“Now you muth play with me.” - -William allowed his cold glance to rest upon her. - -“I don’t play little girls’ games,” he said scathingly. But Violet -Elizabeth did not appear to be scathed. - -“Don’ you know any little girlth?” she said pityingly. “I’ll teach you -little girlth gameth,” she added pleasantly. - -“I don’t _want_ to,” said William, “I don’t _like_ them. I don’t _like_ -little girls’ games. I don’t want to know ’em.” - -Violet Elizabeth gazed at him open-mouthed. - -“Don’t you _like_ little girlth?” she said. - -“_Me?_” said William with superior dignity. “Me? I don’t know anything -about ’em. Don’t want to.” - -“D-don’t you like me?” quavered Violet Elizabeth in incredulous -amazement. William looked at her. Her blue eyes filled slowly with -tears, her lips quivered. - -“I like you,” she said. “Don’t you like me?” - -William stared at her in horror. - -“You--you _do_ like me, don’t you?” - -William was silent. - -A large shining tear welled over and trickled down the small pink cheek. - -“You’re making me cry,” sobbed Violet Elizabeth. “You are. You’re -making me cry, ’cause you won’t say you like me.” - -“I--I do like you,” said William desperately. “Honest--I do. Don’t cry. -I do like you. Honest!” - -A smile broke through the tear-stained face. - -“I’m tho glad,” she said simply. “You like all little girlth, don’t -you?” She smiled at him hopefully. “You do, don’t you?” - -William, pirate and Red Indian and desperado, William, woman-hater and -girl-despiser, looked round wildly for escape and found none. - -Violet Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears again. - -“You _do_ like all little girlth, don’t you?” she persisted with -quavering lip. “You do, don’t you?” - -It was a nightmare to William. They were standing in full view of the -drawing-room window. At any moment a grown up might appear. He would -be accused of brutality, of making little Violet Elizabeth cry. And, -strangely enough, the sight of Violet Elizabeth with tear-filled eyes -and trembling lips made him feel that he must have been brutal indeed. -Beneath his horror he felt bewildered. - -“Yes, I do,” he said hastily, “I do. Honest I do.” - -She smiled again radiantly through her tears. “You with you wath a -little girl, don’t you?” - -“Er--yes. Honest I do,” said the unhappy William. - -“Kith me,” she said raising her glowing face. - -William was broken. - -He brushed her cheek with his. - -“Thath not a kith,” said Violet Elizabeth. - -“It’s my kind of a kiss,” said William. - -“All right. Now leth play fairieth. I’ll thow you how.” - -On the way home Mrs. Brown, who always hoped vaguely that little girls -would have a civilizing effect on William, asked William if he had -enjoyed it. William had spent most of the afternoon in the character of -a gnome attending upon Violet Elizabeth in the character of the fairy -queen. Any attempt at rebellion had been met with tear-filled eyes and -trembling lips. He was feeling embittered with life. - -“If all girls are like that----” said William, “well, when you think of -all the hundreds of girls there must be in the world--well, it makes -you feel sick.” - -Never had liberty and the comradeship of his own sex seemed sweeter to -William than it did the next day when he set off whistling carelessly, -his hands in his pockets, Jumble at his heels, to meet Ginger and -Douglas across the fields. - -“You didn’t come yesterday,” they said when they met. They had missed -William, the leader. - -“No,” he said shortly, “went out to tea.” - -“Where?” they said with interest. - -“Nowhere in particular,” said William inaccurately. - -A feeling of horror overcame him at the memory. If they knew--if they’d -seen.... He blushed with shame at the very thought. To regain his -self-respect he punched Ginger and knocked off Douglas’ cap. After the -slight scuffle that ensued they set off down the road. - -“What’ll we do this morning?” said Ginger. - -It was sunny. It was holiday time. They had each other and a dog. -Boyhood could not wish for more. The whole world lay before them. - -“Let’s go trespassin’,” said William the lawless. - -“Where?” enquired Douglas. - -“Hall woods--and take Jumble.” - -“That ole keeper said he’d tell our fathers if he caught us in again,” -said Ginger. - -“Lettim!” said William, with a dare-devil air, slashing at the hedge -with a stick. He was gradually recovering his self-respect. The -nightmare memories of yesterday were growing faint. He flung a stone -for the eager Jumble and uttered his shrill unharmonious war whoop. -They entered the woods, William leading. He swaggered along the path. -He was William, desperado, and scorner of girls. Yesterday was a dream. -It must have been. No mere girl would dare even to speak to him. He had -never played at fairies with a girl--he, William the pirate king, the -robber chief. - -“William!” - -He turned, his proud smile frozen in horror. - -A small figure was flying along the path behind them--a bare-headed -figure with elaborate curls and very short lacy bunchy skirts and bare -legs with white shoes and socks. - -“William, _darling!_ I thaw you from the nurthery window coming along -the road and I ethcaped. Nurth wath reading a book and I ethcaped. -Oh, William darling, play with me again, _do_. It _wath_ so nith -yethterday.” - -William glared at her speechless. He was glad of the presence of his -manly friends, yet horrified as to what revelations this terrible young -female might make, disgracing him for ever in their eyes. - -“Go away,” he said sternly at last, “we aren’t playing girls’ games.” - -“We don’t like girls,” said Ginger contemptuously. - -“William doth,” she said indignantly. “He thaid he did. He thaid he -liked all little girlth. He thaid he withed he wath a little girl. He -kithed me an’ played fairieth with me.” - -A glorious blush of a rich and dark red overspread William’s -countenance. - -“_Oh!_” he ejaculated as if astounded at the depth of her -untruthfulness, but it was not convincing. - -“Oh, you _did!_” said Violet Elizabeth. Somehow that was convincing. -Ginger and Douglas looked at William rather coldly. Even Jumble seemed -to look slightly ashamed of him. - -“Well, come along,” said Ginger, “we can’t stop here all day -talking--to a _girl_.” - -“But I want to come with you,” said Violet Elizabeth. “I want to play -with you.” - -“We’re going to play boys’ games. You wouldn’t like it,” said Douglas -who was somewhat of a diplomatist. - -“I _like_ boyth gameth,” pleaded Violet Elizabeth, and her blue eyes -filled with tears, “_pleath_ let me come.” - -“All right,” said William. “We can’t stop you comin’. Don’t take any -notice of her,” he said to the others. “She’ll soon get tired of it.” - -They set off. William, for the moment abashed and deflated, followed -humbly in their wake. - - * * * * * - -In a low-lying part of the wood was a bog. The bog was always there but -as it had rained in the night the bog to-day was particularly boggy. It -was quite possible to skirt this bog by walking round it on the higher -ground, but William and his friends never did this. They preferred to -pretend that the bog surrounded them on all sides as far as human eye -could see and that at one false step they might sink deep in the morass -never to be seen again. - -“Come along,” called William who had recovered his spirits and position -of leadership. “Come along, my brave fellows ... tread careful or -instant death will be your fate, and don’t take any notice of her, -she’ll soon have had enough.” - -For Violet Elizabeth was trotting gaily behind the gallant band. - -They did not turn round or look at her, but they could not help seeing -her out of the corners of their eyes. She plunged into the bog with -a squeal of delight and stamped her elegant white-clad feet into the -black mud. - -“Ithn’t it lovely?” she squealed. “Dothn’t it feel nith--all thquithy -between your toth--ithn’t it _lovely?_ I _like_ boyth gameth.” - -They could not help looking at her when they emerged. As fairy-like as -ever above, her feet were covered with black mud up to above her socks. -Shoes and socks were sodden. - -“Ith a _lovely_ feeling!” she commented delightedly on the other side. -“Leth do it again.” - -But William and his band remembered their manly dignity and strode on -without answering. She followed with short dancing steps. Each of them -carried a stick with which they smote the air or any shrub they passed. -Violet Elizabeth secured a stick and faithfully imitated them. They -came to a clear space in the wood, occupied chiefly by giant blackberry -bushes laden with fat ripe berries. - -“Now, my brave fellows,” said William, “take your fill. ’Tis well we -have found this bit of food or we would e’en have starved, an’ don’ -help her or get any for her an’ let her get all scratched an’ she’ll -soon have had enough.” - -They fell upon the bushes. Violet Elizabeth also fell upon the bushes. -She crammed handfuls of ripe blackberries into her mouth. Gradually -her pink and white face became obscured beneath a thick covering of -blackberry juice stain. Her hands were dark red. Her white dress had -lost its whiteness. It was stained and torn. Her bunchy skirts had lost -their bunchiness. The brambles tore at her curled hair and drew it into -that state of straightness for which Nature had meant it. The brambles -scratched her face and arms and legs. And still she ate. - -“I’m getting more than any of you,” she cried. “I geth I’m getting more -than any of you. And I’m getting all of a _meth_. Ithn’t it _fun?_ I -like boyth gameth.” - -They gazed at her with a certain horrified respect and apprehension. -Would they be held responsible for the strange change in her appearance? - -They left the blackberry bushes and set off again through the wood. At -a sign from William they dropped on all fours and crept cautiously and -(as they imagined) silently along the path. Violet Elizabeth dropped -also upon her scratched and blackberry stained knees. - -“Look at me,” she shrilled proudly. “I’m doing it too. Juth like boyth.” - -“Sh!” William said fiercely. - -Violet Elizabeth “Sh’d” obediently and for a time crawled along -contentedly. - -“Are we playin’ bein’ animalth?” she piped at last. - -“Shut _up!_” hissed William. - -Violet Elizabeth shut up--except to whisper to Ginger who was just in -front, “I’m a thnail--what you?” Ginger did not deign to reply. - -At a sign from their leader that all danger was over the Outlaws stood -upright. William had stopped. - -“We’ve thrown ’em off the scent,” he said scowling, “but danger -s’rounds us on every side. We’d better plunge into the jungle an’ I bet -she’ll soon’ve had enough of plungin’ into the jungle.” - -They left the path and “plunged” into the dense, shoulder-high -undergrowth. At the end of the line “plunged” Violet Elizabeth. She -fought her way determinedly through the bushes. She left remnants of -her filmy skirts on nearly every bush. Long spidery arms of brambles -caught at her hair again and pulled out her curls. But Violet Elizabeth -liked it. “Ithn’t it _fun?_” she piped as she followed. - -Under a large tree William stopped. - -“Now we’ll be Red Indians,” he said, “an’ go huntin’. I’ll be Brave -Heart same as usual and Ginger be Hawk Face and Douglas be Lightning -Eye.” - -“An’ what thall I be?” said the torn and stained and wild-headed -apparition that had been Violet Elizabeth. - -Douglas took the matter in hand. - -“What thall I be?” he mimicked shrilly, “what thall I be? What thall I -be?” - -Violet Elizabeth did not run home in tears as he had hoped she would. -She laughed gleefully. - -“It doth thound funny when you thay it like that!” she said -delightedly. “Oh, it doth! Thay it again! Pleath thay it again.” - -Douglas was nonplussed. - -“Anyway,” he said, “you jolly well aren’t going to play, so there.” - -“_Pleath_ let me play,” said Violet Elizabeth. “Pleath.” - -“_No._ Go away!” - -William and Ginger secretly admired the firm handling of this female by -Douglas. - -“_Pleath_, Douglath.” - -“_No!_” - -Violet Elizabeth’s blue eyes, fixed pleadingly upon him, filled with -tears. Violet Elizabeth’s underlip trembled. - -“You’re making me cry,” she said. A tear traced its course down the -blackberry stained cheek. - -“_Pleath_, Douglath.” - -Douglas hesitated and was lost. “Oh, well----” he said. - -“Oh, thank you, dear Douglath,” said Violet Elizabeth. “What thall I -be?” - -“Well,” said William to Douglas sternly. “Now you’ve _let_ her play I -s’pose she’d better be a squaw.” - -“A thquaw,” said Violet Elizabeth joyfully, “what thort of noith doth -it make?” - -“It’s a Indian lady and it doesn’t make any sort of a noise,” said -Ginger crushingly. “Now we’re going out hunting and you stay and cook -the dinner.” - -“All right,” said Violet Elizabeth obligingly. “Kith me good-bye.” - -Ginger stared at her in horror. - -“But you mutht,” she said, “if you’re going out to work an’ I’m going -to cook the dinner, you mutht kith me good-bye. They do.” - -“I don’t,” said Ginger. - -She held up her small face. - -“_Pleath_, Ginger.” - -Blushing to his ears Ginger just brushed her cheek with his. William -gave a derisive snort. His self-respect had returned. Douglas’s manly -severity had been overborne. Ginger had been prevailed upon to kiss -her. Well, they couldn’t laugh at him now. They jolly _well_ couldn’t. -Both were avoiding his eye. - -“Well, go off to work, dear William and Douglas and Ginger,” said -Violet Elizabeth happily, “an’ I’ll cook.” - -Gladly the hunters set off. - - * * * * * - -The Red Indian game had palled. It had been a success while it lasted. -Ginger had brought some matches and over her purple layer of blackberry -juice the faithful squaw now wore a layer of black from the very smoky -fire they had at last managed to make. - -“Come on,” said William, “let’s set out looking for adventures.” - -They set off single file as before, Violet Elizabeth bringing up the -rear, Jumble darting about in ecstatic searches for imaginary rabbits. -Another small bog glimmered ahead. Violet Elizabeth, drunk with her -success as a squaw, gave a scream. - -“Another thquithy plath,” she cried. “I want to be firtht.” - -She flitted ahead of them, ran to the bog, slipped and fell into it -face forward. - -She arose at once. She was covered in black mud from head to foot. Her -face was a black mud mask. Through it her teeth flashed in a smile. “I -juth thlipped,” she explained. - -A man’s voice came suddenly from the main path through the wood at -their right. - -“Look at ’em--the young rascals! Look at ’em! An’ a dawg! Blarst ’em! -Er-r-r-r-r!” - -The last was a sound expressive of rage and threatening. - -“Keepers!” said William. “Run for your lives, braves. Come on, Jumble.” - -They fled through the thicket. - -“Pleath,” gasped Violet Elizabeth in the rear, “I can’t run as fatht -ath that.” - -It was Ginger and Douglas who came back to hold her hands. For all -that they ran fleetly, dashing through the undergrowth where the -keepers found it difficult to follow, and dodging round trees. At last, -breathlessly, they reached a clearing and in the middle of it a cottage -as small and attractive as a fairy tale cottage. The door was open. -It had an empty look. They could hear the keepers coming through the -undergrowth shouting. - -“Come in here,” gasped William. “It’s empty. Come in and hide till -they’ve gone.” - -The four ran into a spotlessly clean little kitchen, and Ginger closed -the door. The cottage was certainly empty. There was not a sound. - -“Ithn’t it a thweet little houth?” panted Violet Elizabeth. - -“Come upstairs,” said Douglas. “They might look in here.” - -The four, Jumble scrambling after them, clattered up the steep narrow -wooden stairs and into a small and very clean bedroom. - -“Look out of the window and see when they go past,” commanded William, -“then we’ll slip out and go back.” - -Douglas peeped cautiously out of the window. He gave a gasp. - -“They--they’re not goin’ past,” he said. “They--they’re they’re comin’ -in at the door.” - -The men’s voices could be heard below. - -“Comin’ in here--the young rascals! Look at their footmarks, see? -What’ll my old woman say when she gets home?” - -“They’ve gone upstairs, too. Look at the marks. Blarst ’em!” - -William went to the window, holding Jumble beneath his arm. - -“We can easily climb down by this pipe,” he said quickly. “Then we’ll -run back.” - -He swung a leg over the window sill, prepared to descend with Jumble -clinging round his neck, as Jumble was trained to do. Jumble’s life -consisted chiefly of an endless succession of shocks to the nerves. - -Ginger and Douglas prepared to follow. - -The men’s footsteps were heard coming upstairs, when a small voice said -plaintively, “Pleath--pleath, I can’t do that. Pleath, you’re not going -to leave me, are you?” - -William put back his foot. - -“We--we can’t leave her,” he said. Ginger and Douglas did not question -their leader’s decision. They stood in a row facing the door while the -footsteps drew nearer. - -The door burst open and the two keepers appeared. - -“Now, yer young rascals--we’ve got yer!” - - * * * * * - -Into Mr. Bott’s library were ushered two keepers, each leading two -children by the neck. One held two rough-looking boys. The other held a -rough-looking boy and a rough-looking little girl. A dejected-looking -mongrel followed the procession. - -“Trespassin’, sir,” said the first keeper, “trespassin’ an’ a-damagin’ -of the woods. Old ’ands, too. Seen ’em at it before but never caught -’em till now. An’ a _dawg_ too. It’s an example making of they want, -sir. They want prosecutin’ if I may make so bold. A-damagin’ of the -woods and a-bringing of a dawg----” - -[Illustration: “WE’VE FOUND HER,” ANNOUNCED WILLIAM, AND VIOLET -ELIZABETH TOOK A STEP FORWARD. “IT’S ME,” SHE PIPED.] - -Mr. Bott who was new to squiredom and had little knowledge of what was -expected of him and moreover was afflicted at the moment with severe -private domestic worries, cast a harassed glance at the four children. -His glance rested upon Violet Elizabeth without the faintest flicker -of recognition. He did not recognise her. He knew Violet Elizabeth. -He saw her at least once or almost once a day. He knew her quite -well. He knew her by her ordered flaxen curls, pink and white face and -immaculate bunchy skirts. He did not know this little creature with -the torn, stained, bedraggled dress (there was nothing bunchy about it -now) whose extremely dirty face could just be seen beneath the tangle -of untidy hair that fell over her eyes. She watched him silently and -cautiously. Just as he was going to speak Violet Elizabeth’s nurse -entered. It says much for Violet Elizabeth’s disguise that her nurse -only threw her a passing glance. Violet Elizabeth’s nurse’s eyes were -red-rimmed. - -[Illustration: “GOD BLESS MY SOUL,” EXCLAIMED MR. BOTT, PEERING AT THE -APPARITION. “IT’S IMPOSSIBLE.”] - -“Please, sir, Mrs. Bott says is there any news?” - -“No,” said Mr. Bott desperately. “Tell her I’ve rung up the police -every minute since she sent last. How is she?” - -“Please, sir, she’s in hysterics again.” - -Mr. Bott groaned. - -Ever since Violet Elizabeth’s disappearance Mrs. Bott had been -indulging in hysterics in her bedroom and taking it out of Violet -Elizabeth’s nurse. In return Violet Elizabeth’s nurse had hysterics in -the nursery and took it out of the nursery maid. In return the nursery -maid had hysterics in the kitchen and took it out of the kitchen maid. -The kitchen maid had no time for hysterics but she took it out of the -cat. - -“Please, sir, she says she’s too ill to speak now. She told me to tell -you so, sir.” - -Mr. Bott groaned again. Suddenly he turned to the four children and the -keepers. - -“You’ve got their names and addresses, haven’t you? Well, see here, -children. Go out and see if you can find my little gall for me. She’s -lost. Look in the woods and round the village and--everywhere. And if -you find her I’ll let you off. See?” - -They murmured perfunctory thanks and retired, followed by Violet -Elizabeth who had not uttered one word within her paternal mansion. - -In the woods they turned on her sternly. - -“It’s you he wants. You’re her.” - -“Yeth,” agreed the tousled ragamuffin who was Violet Elizabeth, -sweetly, “ith me.” - -“Well, we’re going to find you an’ take you back.” - -“Oh, _pleath_, I don’t want to be found and tooken back. I like being -with you.” - -“Well, we can’t keep you about with us all day, can we?” argued William -sternly. “You’ve gotter go home sometime same as we’ve gotter go home -sometime. Well, we jolly well want our dinner now and we’re jolly well -going home an’ we’re jolly well goin’ to take you home. He might give -us something and----” - -“All right,” agreed Violet Elizabeth holding up her face, “if you’ll -all kith me I’ll be found an’ tooken back.” - - * * * * * - -The four of them stood again before Mr. Bott’s desk. William and Ginger -and Douglas took a step back and Violet Elizabeth took a step forward. - -“We’ve found her,” said William. - -“Where?” said Mr. Bott looking round. - -“Ith me,” piped Violet Elizabeth. - -Mr. Bott started. - -“You?” he repeated in amazement. - -“Yeth, father, ith me.” - -“But, but--God bless my soul----” he ejaculated peering at the -unfamiliar apparition. “It’s impossible.” - -Then he rang for Violet Elizabeth’s nurse. - -“Is this Violet Elizabeth?” he said. - -“Yeth, ith me,” said Violet Elizabeth again. - -Violet Elizabeth’s nurse pushed back the tangle of hair. - -“Oh, the poor poor child!” she cried. “The poor child!” - -“God bless my soul,” said Mr. Bott again. “Take her away. I don’t know -what you do to her, but do it and don’t let her mother see her till -it’s done, and you boys stay here.” - -“Oh, my lamb!” sobbed Violet Elizabeth’s nurse as she led her away. “My -poor lamb!” - -In an incredibly short time they returned. The mysterious something -had been done. Violet Elizabeth’s head was a mass of curls. Her -face shone with cleanliness. Dainty lace-trimmed skirts stuck out -ballet-dancer-wise beneath the pale blue waistband. Mr. Bott took a -deep breath. - -“Now fetch her mother,” he said. - -Like a tornado entered Mrs. Bott. She still heaved with hysterics. She -enfolded Violet Elizabeth to her visibly palpitating bosom. - -“My child,” she sobbed, “Oh my darling child.” - -“I wath a thquaw,” said Violet Elizabeth. “It dothn’t make any thort of -a noith. Ith a lady.” - -“How did you----” began Mrs. Bott still straining Violet Elizabeth to -her. - -“These boys found her----” said Mr. Bott. - -“Oh, how kind--how noble,” said Mrs. Bott. “And one’s that nice little -boy who played with her so sweetly yesterday. Give them ten shillings -each, Botty.” - -“Well, but----” hesitated Mr. Bott remembering the circumstances in -which they had been brought to him. - -“Botty!” screamed Mrs. Bott tearfully, “Don’t you value your darling -child’s life at even thirty shillings?” - -Hastily Mr. Bott handed them each a ten shilling note. - - * * * * * - -They tramped homewards by the road. - -“Well, it’s turned out all right,” said Ginger lugubriously, but -fingering the ten shilling note in his pocket, “but it might not have. -’Cept for the money it jolly well spoilt the morning.” - -“Girls always do,” said William. “I’m not going to have anything to do -with any ole girl ever again.” - -“’S all very well sayin’ that,” said Douglas who had been deeply -impressed that morning by the inevitableness and deadly persistence of -the sex, “’s all very well sayin’ that. It’s them what has to do with -you.” - -“An’ I’m never goin’ to marry any ole girl,” said William. - -“’S all very well sayin’ _that_,” said Douglas again gloomily, “but -some ole girl’ll probably marry you.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WILLIAM TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF - - -William had often been told how much happier he would be if he would -follow the straight and narrow path of virtue, but so far the thought -of that happiness had left him cold. He preferred the happiness that -he knew by experience to be the result of his normal wicked life to -that mythical happiness that was prophesied as the result of a quite -unalluring life of righteousness. Suddenly, however, he was stirred. -An “old boy” had come to visit the school and had given an inspiring -address to the boys in which he spoke of the beauty and usefulness of -a life of Self-denial and Service. William, for the first time, began -to consider the question seriously. He realised that his life so far -had not been, strictly speaking, a life of Self-denial and Service. -The “old boy” said many things that impressed William. He pictured the -liver of the life of Self-denial and Service surrounded by a happy, -grateful and admiring family circle. He said that everyone would love -such a character. William tried to imagine his own family circle as a -happy, grateful and admiring family circle. It was not an easy task -even to such a vivid imagination as William’s but it was not altogether -impossible. After all, nothing was altogether impossible.... - -While the headmaster was proposing a vote of thanks to the eloquent -and perspiring “old boy,” William was deciding that there might be -something in the idea after all. When the bell rang for the end of -school, William had decided that it was worth trying at any rate. He -decided to start first thing next morning--not before. William was a -good organiser. He liked things cut and dried. A new day for a new -life. It was no use beginning to be self-denying and self-sacrificing -in the middle of a day that had started quite differently. If you -were going to have a beautiful character and a grateful family circle -you might as well start the day fresh with it, not drag it over from -the day before. It would be jolly nice to have a happy, grateful and -admiring family circle, and William only hoped that if he took the -trouble to be self-denying and self-sacrificing his family circle would -take the trouble to be happy and grateful and admiring. There were -dark doubts about this in William’s mind. His family circle rarely did -anything that was expected of them. Still, William was an optimist -and--anything might happen. And to-morrow was a whole holiday. He could -give all his attention to it all day.... - -He looked forward to the new experience with feelings of pleasant -anticipation. It would be interesting and jolly--meantime there was -a whole half of to-day left and it was no use beginning the life of -self-denial and service before the scheduled time. - -He joined his friends, Ginger, Henry and Douglas after school and -together they trespassed on the lands of the most irascible farmer -they knew in the hopes of a pleasant chase. The farmer happened to be -in the market town so their hopes were disappointed as far as he was -concerned. They paddled in his pond and climbed his trees and uttered -defiant shouts to his infuriated dog, and were finally chased away by -his wife with a fire of hard and knobbly potatoes. One got William very -nicely on the side of his head but, his head being as hard and knobbly -as the potato, little damage was done. Next they “scouted” each other -through the village and finally went into Ginger’s house and performed -military manœuvres in Ginger’s bedroom, till Ginger’s mother sent them -away because the room just below happened to be the drawing-room and -the force of the military manœuvres was disintegrating the ceiling and -sending it down in picturesque white flakes into Ginger’s mother’s hair. - -They went next to Henry’s garden and there with much labour made a -bonfire. Ginger and Douglas plied the fire with fuel; and William -and Henry, with a wheelbarrow and the garden hose, wearing old tins -on their heads, impersonated the fire brigade. During the exciting -scuffles that followed, the garden hose became slightly involved and -finally four dripping boys fled from the scene and from possible -detection, leaving only the now swimming bonfire, the wheelbarrow -and hose to mark the scene of action. A long rest in a neighbouring -field in the still blazing sunshine soon partially dried them. While -reclining at ease they discussed the latest Red Indian stories which -they had read, and the possibility of there being any wild animals left -in England. - -“I bet there _is_,” said Ginger earnestly, “they hide in the day time -so’s no one’ll see ’em, an’ they come out at nights. No one goes into -the woods at night so no one knows if there is or if there isn’t, an’ -I bet there _is_. Anyway let’s get up some night ’n take our bows ’n -arrows an’ _look_ for ’em. I bet we’d find some.” - -“Let’s to-night,” said Douglas eagerly. - -William remembered suddenly the life of virtue to which he had mentally -devoted himself. He felt that the nocturnal hunting for wild animals -was incompatible with it. - -“I can’t to-night,” he said with an air of virtue. - -“Yah--you’re _’fraid!_” taunted Henry, not because he had the least -doubt of William’s courage but simply to introduce an element of -excitement into the proceedings. - -He succeeded. - -When finally Henry and William arose breathless and bruised from the -ditch where the fight had ended, Douglas and Ginger surveyed them with -dispassionate interest. - -“William won an’ you’re both in a _jolly_ old mess!” - -Henry removed some leaves and bits of grass from his mouth. - -“All right, you’re _not_ afraid,” he said pacifically to William, “when -will you come huntin’ wild animals?” - -William considered. He was going to give the life of virtue, of -self-denial and service a fair day’s trial, but there was just the -possibility that from William’s point of view it might not be a -success. It would be as well to leave the door to the old life open. - -“I’ll tell you to-morrow,” he said guardedly. - -“All right. I say, let’s race to the end of the field on only one leg -... Come on! Ready?... One, two, _three_ ... GO!” - - -II - -William awoke. It was morning. It was the morning on which he was to -begin his life of self-denial and service. He raised his voice in one -of his penetrating and tuneless morning songs, then stopped abruptly, -“case I disturb anyone” he remarked virtuously to his brush and -comb.... His father frequently remarked that William’s early morning -songs were enough to drive a man to drink.... He brushed his hair -with unusual vigour and descended to breakfast looking (for William) -unusually sleek and virtuous. His father was reading the paper in front -of the fire. - -“Good mornin’, Father,” said William in a voice of suave politeness. - -His father grunted. - -“Did you hear me not singin’ this mornin’, Father?” said William -pleasantly. It was as well that his self-denials should not be missed -by the family circle. - -His father did not answer. William sighed. Some family circles were -different from others. It was hard to imagine his father happy and -grateful and admiring. But still, he was going to have a jolly good -try.... - -His mother and sister and brother came down. William said “Good -mornin’!” to them all with unctuous affability. His brother looked at -him suspiciously. - -“What mischief are _you_ up to?” he said ungraciously. - -William merely gave him a long silent and reproachful glance. - -“What are you going to do this morning, William dear?” said his mother. - -“I don’ mind what I do,” said William. “I jus’ want to _help_ you. I’ll -do anything you like, Mother.” - -She looked at him anxiously. - -“Are you feeling quite well, dear?” she said with concern. - -“If you want to _help_,” said his sister sternly, “you might dig -up that piece of my garden you and those other boys trampled down -yesterday.” - -William decided that a life of self-denial and service need not -include fagging for sisters who spoke to one in that tone of voice. He -pretended not to hear. - -“Can I do anything at all for you this morning, Mother dear,” he said -earnestly. - -His mother looked too taken aback to reply. His father rose and folded -up his newspaper. - -“Take my advice,” he said, “and beware of that boy this morning. He’s -up to something!” - -William sighed again. Some family circles simply didn’t seem able to -recognise a life of self-denial and service when they met it.... - -After breakfast he wandered into the garden. Before long Ginger, -Douglas and Henry came down the road. - -“Come on, William!” they called over the gate. - -For a moment William was tempted. Somehow it seemed a terrible waste of -a holiday to spend it in self-denial and service instead of in search -of adventures with Ginger, Douglas and Henry. But he put the temptation -away. When he made up his mind to do a thing he did it.... - -“Can’t come to-day,” he said sternly, “I’m busy.” - -“Oh, go _on!_” - -“Well, I am an’ I’m just not comin’ an’ kin’ly stop throwin’ stones at -our cat.” - -“Call it a cat! Thought it was an ole fur glove what someone’d thrown -away!” - -In furious defence of his household’s cat (whose life William in -private made a misery) William leapt to the gate. The trio fled down -the road. William returned to his meditations. His father had gone to -business and Ethel and Robert had gone to golf. His mother drew up the -morning-room window. - -“William, darling, aren’t you going to play with your friends this -morning?” - -William turned to her with an expression of solemnity and earnestness. - -“I want to _help_ you, Mother. I don’t wanter play with my friends.” - -He felt a great satisfaction with this speech. It breathed the very -spirit of self-denial and service. - -“I’ll try to find that bottle of tonic you didn’t finish after whooping -cough,” said his mother helplessly as she drew down the window. - -[Illustration: “GOOD HEAVENS!” SAID MISS DEXTER. “DOES HE KNOW YOU’VE -COME TO ASK ME?”] - -[Illustration: “ROBERT’S DEEP IN LOVE WITH YOU,” SAID WILLIAM, “HE’S -WRITIN’ PO’TRY AN’ NOT SLEEPIN’ AN’ NOT EATIN’ AND CARVING YOUR -INITIALS ALL OVER THE HOUSE.”] - -William stared around him disconsolately. It was hard to be full of -self-sacrifices and service and to find no outlet for it ... nobody -seemed to want his help. Then a brilliant idea occurred to him. He -would _do_ something for each of his family--something that would be a -pleasant surprise when they found out.... - -He went up to his bedroom. There in a drawer was a poem that he had -found in Robert’s blotter the week before. It began: - - “O Marion - So young and fair - With silken hair....” - -It must be Marion Dexter. She was fair and, well, more or less young, -William supposed. William didn’t know about her hair being silken. It -looked just like ordinary hair to him. But you never knew with girls. -He had kept the poem in order to use it as a weapon of offence against -Robert when occasion demanded. But that episode belonged to his old -evil past. In his new life of self-denial and service he wanted to -_help_ Robert. The poem ended: - - “I should be happy, I aver - If thou my suit wouldst but prefer.” - -That meant that Robert wanted to be engaged to her. Poor Robert! -Perhaps he was too shy to ask her, or perhaps he’d asked her and she’d -refused ... well, it was here that Robert needed some _help_. William, -with a determined expression, set off down the road. - - -III - -He knocked loudly at the door. By a lucky chance Marion Dexter came to -the door herself. - -“Good afternoon,” she said. - -“Good afternoon,” said William in a business-like fashion. “Has Robert -ever asked you to marry him?” - -“No. What a peculiar question to ask on the front doorstep. Do come in.” - -William followed her into the drawing-room. She shut the door. They -both sat down. William’s face was set and frowning. - -“He’s deep in love with you,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. - -Marion’s eyes danced. - -“Did he send you to tell me?” - -William ignored the question. - -“He’s deep in love with you and wants you to marry him.” - -Marion dimpled. - -“Why can’t he ask me then?” - -“He’s shy,” said William earnestly, “he’s always shy when he’s in love. -He’s always awful shy with the people what he’s in love with. But he -wants most _awful_ bad to marry you. _Do_ marry him, _please_. Jus’ for -kindness. I’m tryin’ to be kind. That’s why I’m here.” - -“I see,” she said. “Are you sure he’s in love with me?” - -“Deep in love. Writin’ potry an’ carryin’ on--not sleepin’ and not -eatin’ an’ murmurin’ your name an’ puttin’ his hand on his heart an’ -carvin’ your initials all over the house an’ sendin’ you flowers an’ -things,” said William drawing freely on his imagination. - -“I’ve never had any flowers from him.” - -“No. They all get lost in the post,” said William without turning a -hair. “But he’s dyin’ slow of love for you. He’s gettin’ thinner an’ -thinner. ’F you don’t be engaged to him soon he’ll be stone dead. He’ll -die of love like what they do in tales an’ then you’ll probably get -hung for murder.” - -“Good heavens!” said Miss Dexter. - -“Well, I _hope_ you won’t,” said William kindly, “an’ I’ll do all I can -to save you if you are but ’f you kill Robert with not gettin’ engaged -to him prob’ly you will be.” - -“Does he know you’ve come to ask me?” said Miss Dexter. - -“No. I want it to be a s’prise to him,” said William. - -“It will be that,” murmured Miss Dexter. - -“You will marry him, then?” said William hopefully. - -“Certainly--if he wants me to.” - -“P’raps,” said William after a slight pause, “you’d better write it in -a letter ’cause he’d like as not, not b’lieve me.” - -With eyes dancing and lips quivering with suppressed laughter Miss -Dexter sat down at her writing table. - - DEAR ROBERT (she wrote), - -At William’s earnest request I promise to be engaged to you and to -marry you whenever you like. - - Yours sincerely, MARION DEXTER. - -She handed it to William. William read it gravely and put it in his -pocket. - -“Thanks ever so much,” he said fervently. - -“Don’t mention it,” said Miss Dexter demurely. “Quite a pleasure.” - -He walked down the road in a rosy glow of virtue. Well, he’d done -something for Robert that ought to make Robert grateful to him for the -rest of his life. He’d _helped_ Robert all right. He’d like to know -what _service_ was if it wasn’t that--getting people engaged to people -they wanted to be engaged to. Jolly hard work too. Now there remained -his mother and Ethel. He must go home and try to find some way of -_helping_ them.... - - -IV - -When he reached home Ethel was showing out Mrs. Helm, a tall, -stern-looking lady whom William knew by sight. - -“I’m so _frightfully_ disappointed not to be able to come,” Ethel was -saying regretfully, “but I’m afraid I _must_ go to the Morrisons. -I promised over a week ago. Thank you so much for asking me. Good -morning.” - -William followed her into the dining-room where his mother was. - -“What did she want, dear?” said Mrs. Brown. “Go and wash your hands, -William.” - -“She wanted me to go in this evening but I told her I couldn’t because -I was going to the Morrisons. Thank Heaven I had an excuse!” - -William unfortunately missed the last sentence, as, still inspired by -high ideals of virtue, he had gone at once upstairs to wash his hands. -While he splashed about at the handbasin an idea suddenly occurred to -him. _That_ was how he’d help Ethel. He’d give her a happy evening. -She should spend it with the Helms and not with the Morrisons. She’d -sounded so sorry that she had to go to the Morrisons and couldn’t go to -the Helms. He’d fix it all up for her this afternoon. He’d _help_ her -like he’d helped Robert. - -He had hoped to be able to give Robert Miss Dexter’s note at lunch, but -it turned out that Robert was lunching at the golf club with a friend. - -Directly after lunch William set off to Mrs. Morrison’s house. He -was shown into the drawing-room. Mrs. Morrison, large and fat and -comfortable-looking, entered. She looked rather bewildered as she met -William’s stern frowning gaze. - -“I’ve come from Ethel,” said William aggressively. “She’s sorry she -can’t come to-night.” - -Mrs. Morrison’s cheerful countenance fell. - -“The girls will be disappointed,” she said, “they saw her this morning -and she said she was looking forward to it.” - -Some explanation seemed necessary. William was never one to stick at -half measures. - -“She’s been took ill since then,” he said. - -“Oh _dear_,” said Mrs. Morrison with concern, “nothing serious, I hope?” - -William considered. If it wasn’t serious she might expect Ethel to -recover by the evening. She’d better have something serious. - -“I’m ’fraid it is,” he said gloomily. - -“Dear, _dear!_” said Mrs. Morrison. “Tch! tch! What is it?” - -William thought over all the complaints he knew. None of them seemed -quite serious enough. She might as well have something _really_ serious -while he was about it. Then he suddenly remembered hearing the gardener -talking to the housemaid the day before. He’d been talking about his -brother who’d got--what was it? Epi--epi---- - -“Epilepsy!” said William suddenly. - -“_What?_” screamed Mrs. Morrison. - -William, having committed himself to epilepsy meant to stick to it. - -“Epilepsy, the doctor says,” he said firmly. - -“Good heavens!” said Mrs. Morrison. “When did you find out? Will he be -able to cure it? Is the poor girl in bed? How does it affect her? What -a dreadful thing!” - -William was flattered at the impression he seemed to have made. He -wondered whether it were possible to increase it. - -“The doctor thinks she’s got a bit of consumption too,” he said -casually, “but he’s not quite sure.” - -Mrs. Morrison screamed again. “_Heavens!_ And she always looked so -_healthy_. The girls will be so _distressed_. William, do tell me--when -did your mother realise there was something wrong?” - -William foresaw that the conversation was becoming complicated. He -did not wish to display his ignorance of the symptoms of epilepsy and -consumption. - -“Jus’ soon after lunch,” he said with rising cheerfulness. “Now I’d -better be goin’, I think. Good afternoon.” - -He left Mrs. Morrison still gasping upon the sofa and in the act of -ringing for her maid to fetch her smelling salts. - -William walked down the road with a swagger. He was managing _jolly_ -well.... The next visit was easier. He simply told Mrs. Helm’s maid -at the front door to tell Mrs. Helm that Ethel would be able to come -to-night after all, thank you very much. - -Then he swung off to the woods with Jumble, his faithful dog. In -accordance with his new life of virtue he walked straight along the -road without burrowing in the ditches or throwing stones at telegraph -posts. His exhilaration slowly vanished. He wondered where Ginger and -Henry and Douglas were and what they were doing. It was _jolly_ dull -all alone ... but still the happiness and gratitude and admiration of -his family circle when they found out all he had done for them would -repay him for everything. At least he hoped it would. His mother ... he -had done nothing for his mother yet. He must try to do something for -his mother.... - - -V - -When he returned home it was almost dinner time. His mother and Ethel -and Robert were still out. The Cook met him with a lugubrious face. - -“Now, Master William,” she said, “can I trust you to give a message to -your Ma.” - -“Yes, Cook,” said William virtuously. - -“Me cold in me ’ead’s that bad I can’t stand on me feet no longer. That -’ussy Ellen wouldn’t give up ’er night hout to ’elp me--not she, and -yer Ma said if I’d leave things orl ready to dish hup I might go and -rest afore dinner ’f I felt bad. Well, she’ll be hin hany minute now -and just tell ’er it’s hall ready to dish up. Tell ’er I ’aven’t made -no pudd’n but I’ve hopened a bottle of stewed pears.” - -“All right, Cook,” said William. - -Cook took the paper-backed copy of “A Mill Girl’s Romance” from the -kitchen dresser and slowly sneezed her way up the back stairs. - -William was to all intents and purposes alone in the house. He wandered -into the kitchen. There was a pleasant smell of cooking. Several -saucepans simmered on the gas stove. On the table was a glass dish -containing the stewed pears. His father hated cold stewed fruit. He -often said so. Suddenly William had yet another brilliant idea. He’d -make a proper pudding for his father. It wouldn’t take long. The -cookery book was on the dresser. You just did what the book told you. -It was quite easy. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM WENT ON BREAKING EGGS TILL NOT ANOTHER EGG -REMAINED TO BE BROKEN.] - -He went over to the gas stove. All the gas rings were being used. He’d -better get one clear for his pudding. He supposed his pudding would -need a gas ring same as all the other things. There were two small -saucepans each containing dark brown stuff. They might as well be -together, thought William, with a business-like frown. He poured the -contents of one of the saucepans into the other. He had a moment’s -misgiving as the mingled smell of gravy and coffee arose from the -mixture. Then he turned to his pudding. He opened the book at random at -the puddings. Any would do. “Beat three eggs together.” He fetched a -bowl of eggs from the larder and got down a clean basin from the shelf. -He’d seen Cook doing it, just cracking the eggs, and the egg slithered -into the basin and she threw the shells away. It looked quite easy. -He broke an egg. The shell fell neatly on to the table and the egg -slithered down William on to the floor. He tried another and the same -thing happened. William was not easily baulked. He was of a persevering -nature. He went on breaking eggs till not another egg remained to be -broken, and then and then only did he relinquish his hopes of making -a pudding. Then and then only did he step out of the pool of a dozen -broken eggs in which he was standing and, literally soaked in egg from -the waist downward, go to replace the basin on the shelf. - -His thirst for practical virtue was not yet sated. Surely there was -_something_ he could do, even if he couldn’t make a pudding. Yes, he -could carry the things into the dining-room so that they could have -dinner as soon as they came in. He opened the oven door. A chicken on a -large dish was there. Good! Burning his fingers severely in the process -William took it out. He’d put it on the dining-room table all ready for -them to begin. Just as he stood with the dish in his hands he heard his -mother and Robert come in. He’d go and give Robert Miss Dexter’s letter -first. He looked round for somewhere to put the chicken. The table -seemed to be full. He put the dish and the chicken on to the floor and -went into the hall closing the door behind him. Robert and his mother -had gone into the drawing-room. William followed. - -“Well, William,” said Mrs. Brown pleasantly, “had a nice day?” - -Without a word William handed the note to Robert. - -Robert read it. - -He went first red, then pale, then a wild look came into his eyes. - -“Marion _Dexter!_” he said. - -“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” said William. “You’ve been -writing pomes to her.” - -“Not to Marion _Dexter_,” screamed Robert. “She’s an old woman. She’s -nearly twenty-five.... It’s--it’s Marion Hatherley I----” - -“Well, how was I to _know_,” said William in a voice of irritation. -“You should put their surnames in the pomes. I thought you wanted to be -engaged to her. I’ve took a lot of trouble over it gettin’ her to write -that.” - -Robert was reading and re-reading the note. - -“My God!” he said in a hushed voice of horror. “I’m engaged to Marion -Dexter!” - -“Robert,” said Mrs. Brown. “I don’t think you ought to use expressions -like that before your little brother, whoever you’re engaged to.” - -“I’m engaged to Marion Dexter,” repeated Robert in a tone of frenzy, -“_Me!_ ... chained to her for life when I love another....” - -“Robert dear,” said Mrs. Brown, “if there’s been any mistake I’m sure -that all you have to do is go to Miss Dexter and explain.” - -“_Explain!_” said Robert wildly. “How can I explain. She’s _accepted_ -me ... how can any man of chivalry refuse to marry a woman who.... Oh, -it’s too much.” He sat down on the sofa and held his head in his hands. -“It’s the ruin of all my hopes ... he’s simply spoilt my life ... he’s -always spoiling my life ... I shall _have_ to marry her now ... and -she’s an old woman ... she was twenty-four last birthday, I know.” - -“Well, I was trying to _help_,” said William. - -“I’ll teach you to help,” said Robert darkly, advancing upon him. - -William dodged and fled towards the door. There he collided with -Ethel--Ethel with a pale, distraught face. - -“It’s all over the village, mother,” she said angrily as she entered. -“William’s told everyone in the village that I’ve got epilepsy and -consumption.” - -“I _didn’t_,” said William indignantly. “I only told Mrs. Morrison.” - -“But William,” said his mother, sitting down weakly on the nearest -chair, “why on earth----?” - -“Well, Ethel didn’t want to go to the Morrisons to-night. She wanted to -go to the Helms’----” - -“I did _not_,” said Ethel. “I was glad to get out of going to the -Helms’.” - -“Well, how was I to _know?_” said William desperately. “I had to go by -what you _said_ and I had to go by what Robert _wrote_. I wanted to -_help_. I’ve took no end of trouble--livin’ a life of self-sacrifice -and service all day without stoppin’ once, and ’stead of being grateful -an’ happy an’ admirin’----” - -“But William,” said Mrs. Brown, “how did you think it was going to help -_anyone_ to say that Ethel had epilepsy and consumption?” - -“I’d rather have epilepsy and consumption,” said Robert who had -returned to the sofa and was sitting with his head between his hands, -“than be engaged to Marion Dexter.” - -“I must say I simply can’t understand why you’ve been doing all this, -William,” said Mrs. Brown. “We must just wait till your father comes in -and see what he makes of it. And I can’t think why dinner’s so late.” - -“She’s gone to bed,” said William gloomily. - -“I’d better see to things then,” said Mrs. Brown going into the hall. - -“_Epilepsy!_” groaned Ethel. - -“Twenty-four--twenty-four if she’s a day--and the sort of hair I’ve -always disliked,” groaned Robert. - -William followed his mother to the kitchen rather than be left to -the tender mercies of Ethel and Robert. He began to feel distinctly -apprehensive about the kitchen ... that pool of eggs ... those brown -liquids he’d mixed.... - -Mrs. Brown opened the kitchen door. On the empty chicken dish on -the floor sat Jumble surrounded by chicken bones, the wishing bone -protruding from his mouth, looking blissfully happy.... - - -VI - -In his bedroom whither he had perforce retired supperless, William -hung up the Outlaws’ signal of distress (a scull and crossbones in -black and the word “Help” in red) at his window in case Ginger or Henry -or Douglas came down the road, and then surveyed the events of the -day. Well, he’d done his best. He’d lived a life of self-denial and -service all right. It was his family who were wrong. They hadn’t been -happy or grateful or admiring. They simply weren’t worthy of a life of -self-denial and service. And anyway how could he have _known_ that it -was another Marion and that Ethel couldn’t say what she meant and that -Jumble was going to get in through the kitchen window? - -A tiny pebble hit his window. He threw it open. There down below in the -garden path were Douglas, Henry and Ginger. - -“Ho! my trusty mates,” said William in a penetrating whisper. “I am -pent in durance vile--sent to bed, you know--an’ I’m jolly hungry. Wilt -kill some deer or venison or something for me?” - -“Righto,” said Ginger, and “Yes, gallant captain,” said Douglas and -Henry as they crept off through the bushes. - -William returned to his survey of his present position. That old boy -simply didn’t know what he was talking about. He couldn’t ever have -tried it himself. Anyway he (William) had tried it and he knew all -there was to know about lives of self-denial and service and he’d -_done_ with lives of self-denial and service, thank you very much. He -was going back to his ordinary kind of life first thing to-morrow.... - -A tiny pebble at the window. William leant out. Below were Ginger, -Henry and Douglas with a small basket. - -“Oh, crumbs!” said William joyfully. - -He lowered a string and they tied the little basket on to it. William -drew it up fairly successfully. It contained a half-eaten apple, a bar -of toffee that had spent several days unwrapped in Henry’s pocket, -which was covered with bits of fluff, a very stale bun purloined from -Ginger’s mother’s larder, and a packet of monkey nuts bought with -Ginger’s last twopence. - -William’s eyes shone. - -“Oh, I _say_,” he said gratefully, “thanks _awfully_. And, I say, you’d -better go now ’case they see you, and I _say_, I’ll come huntin’ wild -animals with you to-morrow night.” - -“Right-o,” said the Outlaws creeping away through the bushes. - - * * * * * - -Downstairs William’s family circle consumed a meal consisting of -sardines and stewed pears. They consumed it in gloomy silence, broken -only by Mr. Brown’s dry, “I suppose there must be quite a heavy vein -of insanity somewhere in the family for it to come out so strong in -William.” And by Ethel’s indignant, “And _epilepsy!_ Why on earth did -he fix on _epilepsy?_” And by Robert’s gloomy, “Engaged to be married -to her ... _twenty-four_ ... _chained_ to her for life.” - -Upstairs the cause of all their troubles sat on the floor in the middle -of his bedroom with his little pile of eatables before him. - -“Come on, my gallant braves,” he said addressing an imaginary band of -fellow captives. “Let us eat well and then devise some way of escape or -ere dawn our bleached bones may dangle from yon gallows.” - -Then quite happily and contentedly he began to eat the fluffy stick of -toffee.... - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A BIT OF BLACKMAIL - - -Bob Andrews was one of the picturesque figures of the village. He -lived at the East Lodge of the Hall, and was supposed to help with the -gardening of the Hall grounds. He was tall, handsome, white-bearded and -gloriously lazy. He had a roguish twinkle in his blue eye and a genius -for wasting time--both his own and other people’s. He was a great -friend of William and the Outlaws. He seemed to them to be free of all -the drawbacks that usually accompany the state of grownupness. He was -never busy, never disapproving, never tidy, never abstracted. He took -seriously the really important things of life such as cigarette-card -collecting, the top season, Red Indians, and the finding of birds’ -nests. Having abstracted a promise from them that they would take “one -igg an’ no more, ye rascals,” he would show them every bird’s nest in -the Hall woods. He seemed to know exactly where each bird would build -each year. He had a family of two tame squirrels, four dogs and seven -cats, who all lived together in unity. He could carve boats out of -wood, make whistles and bows and arrows and tops. He did all these -things as if he had nothing else to do in the world. He would stand -for hours perfectly happy with his hands in his pockets, smoking. He -would watch the Outlaws organising races of boats, watch them shooting -their bows and arrows, taking interest in their marksmanship, offering -helpful criticism. He was in every way an eminently satisfactory -person. He was paid a regular salary by the absent owner of the Hall -for occasionally opening the Lodge gates, and still more occasionally -assisting with the gardening. He understood the word assistance in -its most literal sense--that of “standing by.” He also was generous -with kindly advice to his more active colleagues. It says much for his -attractive personality that this want of activity was resented by no -one. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Bott, the new owner of the Hall, was a business man. He liked -to get his money’s worth for his money. It was not for nothing that -passionate appeals to safeguard their health by taking Bott’s Sauce -with every meal met England’s citizens in every town. Mr. Bott believed -in getting the last ounce of work out of his work-people. That was what -had raised Mr. Bott from grocer’s errand boy to lord of the manor. -When Mr. Bott discovered that he had upon his newly acquired estate a -man who drew a working man’s salary for merely standing about and at -intervals consuming the more choice fruit from the hot houses, Mr. Bott -promptly sacked that man. It would have been against Mr. Bott’s most -sacred principles to do otherwise.... - -The Outlaws avoided Mr. Bott’s estate for some time after their -adventure with his daughter. But having heard that she had departed on -a lengthy visit to distant relatives, the Outlaws decided to return to -their favourite haunts. They entered the wood by crawling through the -hedge. For a time they amused themselves by climbing trees and turning -somersaults among the leaves. Then they tried jumping over the stream. -The stream possessed the attraction of being just too wide to jump -over. The interest lay in seeing how much or how little of their boots -got wet each time. Finally the Outlaws wearied of these pursuits. - -“Let’s go and find Bob,” said William at last. - -Scuffling, shuffling, dragging their toes along the ground, whistling, -punching each other at intervals, in the fashion of boyhood, they made -their way slowly to the East Lodge. - -Bob stood at his door smoking as usual. - -“Hello, Bob,” called the Outlaws. - -“Hello, ye young rascals.” - -“I say, Bob, make us some boats an’ let’s have a race.” - -“Sure an’ I will,” said Bob knocking out his pipe and taking a large -penknife out of his pocket, “though it’s wastin’ me time ye are, as -usual.” - -He took up a piece of wood and began to whittle. - -“How’s the squirrel, Bob?” - -“Foine.” - -“Bob, they’re building in the ivy on the Old Oak again.” - -“Shure an’ I knew that before you did, me bhoy.” - -But though he whittled and whistled Bob was evidently not his old self. - -“I say, Bob, next month----” - -“Next month, me bhoys, I shall not be here.” - -They stared at him open-mouthed. - -“_What_--you goin’ away for a holiday, Bob?” - -Bob whittled away nonchalantly. - -“I’m goin’ away, me bhoys, because th’ould devil up there has given me -the sack--God forgive him for _Oi_ won’t,” he ended piously. - -“But--_why?_” they said aghast. - -“He sez I don’t work. _Me!_” he said indignantly. “_Me_--an’ me wearin’ -me hands to the bone for him the way I do. _An’_ he says I steal ’is -fruit--me what takes only the few peaches he’d come an’ give me with -his own hands if he was a gintleman at all, at all.” - -“What a _shame!_” said the Outlaws. - -“Turnin’ me an’ me hanimals out into the cold world. May God forgive -him!” said Bob. “Well, here’s yer boats, ye young rascals, an’ don’t -ye go near me pheasants’ nests or I’ll put the fear of God on ye.” - -[Illustration] - -“We’ve gotter _do_ something,” said William, when Bob had returned, -smoking peacefully, to his Lodge. - -“_We_ can’t do anything,” said Ginger despondently. “Who’d listen to -_us?_ Who’d take any notice of _us_, anyway?” - -William the leader looked at him sternly. - -“You jus’ wait an’ _see_,” he said. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Bott was very stout. His stoutness was a great secret trouble to -Mr. Bott. Mr. Bott had made his money and now Mr. Bott wished to take -his proper place in Society. Mr. Bott considered not unreasonably that -his corpulency, though an excellent advertisement of the nourishing -qualities of Bott’s Sauce, yet detracted from the refinement of his -appearance. Mrs. Bott frequently urged him to “do something about -it.” He had consulted many expensive specialists. Mrs. Bott kept -finding “new men” for him. The last “new man” she had found was highly -recommended on all sides. He practically guaranteed his treatment to -transform a human balloon to a human pencil in a few months. Mr. Bott -had begun the treatment. It was irksome but Mr. Bott was persevering. -Had Mr. Bott not been persevering he would never have attained that -position of eminence in the commercial world that he now held. Every -morning as soon as it was light, Mr. Bott, decently covered by a large -overcoat, went down to a small lake in the grounds among the bushes. -There Mr. Bott divested himself of his overcoat and appeared in small -bathing drawers. From the pocket of his overcoat Mr. Bott would then -take a skipping rope and with this he would skip five times round the -lake. Then he would put away his skipping rope and do his exercises. -He would twist his short fat body into strange attitudes, flinging his -short fat arms towards Heaven, standing upon one short fat leg with -the other thrust out at various angles and invariably overbalancing. -Finally, Mr. Bott had to plunge into the lake (it was not deep), splash -and kick and run round it, in and then emerge to dry himself on a towel -concealed in the other pocket of his overcoat, shiveringly don the -overcoat again and furtively return to the house. For Mr. Bott was shy -about his “treatment.” He fondly imagined that no one except Mrs. Bott, -the “new man” and himself knew about his early morning adventures. - - * * * * * - -One chilly morning Mr. Bott had skipped and leapt and twisted himself -and splashed himself and emerged, shivering and red-nosed, for his -overcoat. Then Mr. Bott received a shock that was nearly too much for -his much-exercised system. His overcoat was not there. He looked all -round the tree where he knew he had left it, and it was not there. It -was most certainly not there. With chattering teeth Mr. Bott threw a -glance of pathetic despair around him. Then above the sound of the -chattering of his teeth he heard a voice. - -[Illustration] - -“I’ve got your coat up here.” - -Mr. Bott threw a startled glance up into the tree whence the voice -came. From among the leaves a stern, freckled, snub-nosed, wild-haired -face glared down at him. - -“I’ll give you your coat,” said William, “’f you’ll promise to let Bob -stay.” - -Mr. Bott clasped his dripping head with a dripping hand. - -“Bob?” - -“Bob Andrews what you’re sending away for nothing.” - -Mr. Bott tried to look dignified in spite of the chattering of his -teeth and the water that poured from his hair down his face. - -“I have my reasons, child,” he said, “of which you know nothing. Will -you kindly give me back my coat? I’m afraid you are a very naughty, -ill-behaved little boy to do a thing like this and if you aren’t -careful I’ll tell the police about it.” - -“I’ll give you your coat if you’ll promise not to send Bob away,” said -William again sternly. - -“I shall most certainly speak to your father _and_ the police,” said -Mr. Bott. “You’re a very impudent little boy! Give me my coat at once.” - -“I’ll give you your coat,” said William again, “if you’ll promise not -to send Bob away.” - -Mr. Bott’s dignity began to melt away. - -“You young devil,” he roared. “You----” - -He looked wildly around and his eyes fell upon something upon which -William’s eye ought to have fallen before. William had for once -overlooked something vital to his strategy. In the long grass behind -the tree lay a ladder that had been left there long ago by some -gardener and forgotten. With a yell of triumph Mr. Bott rushed to it. - -“Oh, crumbs!” said William among the leafage. - -Mr. Bott put the ladder against the tree trunk and began to swarm up -it--large, dripping, chattering with rage and cold. William retreated -along his branch, still clinging to the overcoat. Mr. Bott pursued -furiously. - -“You young rogue--you young devil. I’ll teach you--I’ll----” - -The branch down which William was retreating pursued by Mr. Bott was -directly over the lake. William alone it could easily have supported, -but it drew the line at Mr. Bott. With a creaking and a crashing above -which rose a yell of terror from Mr. Bott, it fell into the water -accompanied by its two occupants. The splash made by Mr. Bott’s falling -body at first obscured the landscape. Before William could recover from -the shock caused by Mr. Bott’s splash and yell and his own unexpected -descent, Mr. Bott was upon him. Mr. Bott was maddened by rage and -fury, and wet and cold. He ducked William and shook William and tore -his wet overcoat from William. William butted Mr. Bott in his largest -and roundest part, then scrambled from the lake and fled dripping -towards the gate. Mr. Bott at first pursued him, then realising that -the path was taking him within sight of the high road, turned back, -drew his soaked overcoat over his shoulders and fled chatteringly and -shiveringly towards his resplendent mansion. - - * * * * * - -Two hours later, William met the other Outlaws by appointment in the -old barn where all their meetings were held. - -“Well?” said the other Outlaws eagerly. - -William, who was wearing his best suit, looked pale and chastened but -none the less determined. - -“It didn’t quite come off,” admitted William. “Something went wrong.” - -Their faces fell, but they did not question him. - -“Well, we’ve done all we can,” said Ginger resignedly, “an’ we jus’ -can’t help it.” - -[Illustration: ONCE MR. BOTT THOUGHT HE SAW THAT HORRIBLE BOY’S FACE IN -THE BUSHES. ONCE HE IMAGINED HE HEARD AN ODD CLICK, AS IF SOMEONE HAD -STEPPED ON A TWIG.] - -“I’ve got another idea,” said William grimly. “I’ve jolly well not -_finished_ yet.” - -They looked at him with awe and respect. - -“We’ll have another meeting in three days,” said William with his stern -frown, “an’--an’--well, you jus’ wait and see.” - -[Illustration: MR. BOTT LEAPED AND SKIPPED AND GAMBOLLED AND SPLASHED. -HE WAS DETERMINED TO OBEY TO THE FULL THE SPECIALIST’S ADVICE ABOUT -PHYSICAL EXERCISES.] - -The next day was bright and sunny. Mr. Bott almost enjoyed his morning -exercises. He thought occasionally with indignation of the events -of the previous morning. That dreadful boy ... anyway he’d _shown_ -him--he wasn’t likely to come again after yesterday. And most certainly -Bob Andrews should go ... he’d like to see any fool boy dictating -to _him_. But Mr. Bott could not feel bad-tempered for long. It was -such a bright sunny morning and he’d just discovered himself to be -⅞ of an inch thinner round the waist than this time last week.... -He leapt and skipped and gambolled and splashed. Once he imagined -he saw the horrible boy’s face in the bushes, but looking again he -came to the conclusion that he must have been mistaken. Once too, he -thought he heard a snap or a click as if someone had stepped on a -twig, but listening again he came to the conclusion that he must have -been mistaken. He enjoyed his exercises for the next two mornings as -well. But on the third morning as soon as he had come down, dressed -and glowing, to his study after his exercises, to look at his letters -before breakfast the butler threw open the door and announced: - -“They said it was himportant business, sir, an’ you knew about it. I -’ope it’s all right.” - -Then four boys walked up to his desk. One was the boy who had taken -his overcoat up a tree two days before. The butler had gone. Mr. Bott, -sputtering with rage, reached out to the bell. (He was going to say -“Kick these boys out”) when the worst of the boys--the devil--laid half -a dozen snapshots on his desk. Mr. Bott looked at them, and then sat -rigid and motionless, his hand still outstretched towards the bell. - -Then his rubicund face grew pale. - -The first snapshot showed Mr. Bott, short, fat, and (except for his -microscopic bathing drawers) naked, skipping by the lake. The angle of -his legs was irresistibly comic. The second snapshot showed Mr. Bott, -still short and fat and almost naked, balancing himself on one arm and -one leg, the others stuck out wildly in the air, his eyes staring, his -tongue hanging out of his mouth. The third snapshot showed Mr. Bott in -the act of over-balancing in a rather difficult exercise. That was the -gem of the collection. The fourth showed Mr. Bott lying on his back and -kicking his legs in the air. The fifth showed Mr. Bott standing on two -very stiff arms and stiff legs with an expression of acute suffering on -his face. The sixth showed Mr. Bott splashing in the lake. - -Mr. Bott took out his handkerchief and wiped away the perspiration that -was standing out on his brow. - -“If you burn ’em,” said William firmly, “we can get more. We’ve got the -films and we can make hundreds more--and _jolly good_ ones too.” - -Mr. Bott began to stammer. - -“W-hat are you g-going to d-do with them?” he asked. - -“Just show them to people,” said William calmly. - -Horrid visions passed before Mr. Bott’s eye. He saw the wretched -things in the local paper. He saw them passed from hand to hand in -drawing-rooms. He saw strong men helpless with mirth as they seized on -them. His position in Society--well, the less said about his position -in Society if those things became public the better.... - -William took a crumpled document from his pocket and laid it solemnly -upon Mr. Bott’s desk. - -“That’s a contrack,” he said, “signed in all our life’s blood sayin’ -that we’ll keep ’em hid safely and never show ’em to anyone s’long as -you let Bob stay.” - -Mr. Bott knew when he was beaten. He moistened his lips. - -“All right,” he whispered. “All right ... I promise--only--_go away_.” - -They went away. - -Mr. Bott locked the contract in his desk and pocketed the key. - -Mrs. Bott came in. Mr. Bott still sat huddled in his chair. - -“You don’t look well, Botty darling,” said Mrs. Bott with concern in -her voice. - -“No,” said Mr. Bott in a hollow voice. “I don’t know that this -treatment’s doing me any good.” - -“Isn’t it, ducky?” said Mrs. Bott. “Well, I’ll try to find you a new -man.” - - * * * * * - -That afternoon the Outlaws passed Bob. He stood outside his Lodge, -hands in pockets, pipe in mouth, handsome, white-bearded, gloriously -lazy. - -“I’ve found a grass snake for ye, me bhoys,” he sang out, “he’s in a -box in the yard beyond. Oh, an’ Bob Andrews is _not_ goin’, me bhoys. -The sack is withdrawn. Th’aud devil’s realised me value, glory be to -God.” - - * * * * * - -That night Robert, William’s elder brother, came downstairs with his -camera in his hand. - -“I say,” he said, “I could have sworn I put this away with half a dozen -films in.” - -“When did you have it last, dear?” said his mother. - -William took a book from a shelf and sat down at the table, resting his -head on his hands. - -“I put it away last Autumn till the decent weather came round, but I -could have sworn I put it away with a roll of films in.” - -His eye fell sternly and accusingly upon William. - -William looked up, met it unflinchingly with an expression of patient -endurance on his face. - -“Robert,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you’d talk more quietly. I’m -trying to learn my history dates.” - -Robert’s jaw dropped. Then he went quietly from the room still gaping. -There was simply no making head or tail of that kid.... - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -WILLIAM THE MONEY-MAKER - - -The rain poured ceaselessly upon the old barn where the Outlaws were -assembled. They had meant to spend the afternoon birds-nesting, and -they had continued to birds-nest in spite of the steady downpour -till Ginger had torn such a large hole in his knickers that as he -pathetically remarked, “S’all very well for you. ’S only rainin’ on -your clothes. But it’s rainin’ right on to _me_ through my hole an’ -it’s jolly cold an’ I’m goin’ home.” - -His threat of going home was hardly serious. It was not likely that any -of the Outlaws would waste the precious hours of a half-holiday in a -place so barren of any hope of adventure as home. - -“All right,” said William the leader (upon whose stern and grimy -countenance the rain had traced little channels of cleanliness) -testily. “All right. My goodness, what a fuss you make about a bit of -rain on your bare skin. What would you do if you was a Red Indian an’ -had to be out of doors all weathers and nearly all bare skin?” - -“Well, it doesn’t rain in Red Indian climits,” said Ginger. “So there! -Don’t you be too clever. It doesn’t rain in Red Indian climits.” - -William was nonplussed for a moment, then he summoned his fighting -spirit. - -“How do you know?” he said. “You ever been there? You ever been to a -Red Indian climit? Well, I din’t know you’d ever been to a Red Indian -climit. But I’m very int’rested to hear it. It’s very int’restin’ an’ -funny you din’t get killed an’ eat, I _mus’_ say.” - -William’s weapon of heavy sarcasm always proved rather bewildering to -his friends. - -“I don’ see that it matters whether I’ve been to a Red Indian climit or -not,” said Ginger stoutly, “’it wun’t stop me feelin’ wet now if I had, -would it?” - -“Well, what would you do if you was a diver,” went on William, “’f -you’re so frightened of gettin’ a bit wet? P’raps what with knowin’ so -much about Red Indian climits you’ll say it’s not wet in the sea. Of -course ’f you say it’s not wet in the sea we’ll all b’lieve you. Oh -yes, we’ll all b’lieve you ’f you say it’s not wet in the sea. I s’pose -that’s wot you’ll be sayin’ next--that it’s not wet in the sea--with -knowin’ so much about Red Indian climits----” - -At this moment there came a redoubled torrent of rain and turning up -their sodden collars the Outlaws all ran to the old barn which was the -scene of many of their activities. - -“I’m s’prised to see _you_ run like that,” said Ginger to William. “I -should’ve thought you’d have liked gettin’ wet the way you talk about -divers an’ Red Indians.” - -William shut the door of the barn and pushed his wet hair out of his -eyes. - -“I thought it was _you_ wot knew all about Red Indian climits an’ the -sea not bein’ wet,” he said severely. “Seems to me you don’t know wot -you _are_ talkin’ about sometimes. One minute you say the sea’s not -wet----” - -“I never said the sea wasn’t wet,” said Ginger. “You sim’ly don’t -listen to what I _do_ say.--You jus’ keep on talkin’ an’ talkin’ -yourself an’ you don’ listen prop’ly to wot other folks say. You get -it all wrong. You go on talkin’ and talkin’ about Red Indians an’ -divers----” - -But Henry and Douglas, the other two Outlaws, were tired of the subject. - -“Oh, do shut _up!_” said Henry irritably. - -“_Who_ shut up?” said William aggressively. - -“_Both_ of you,” said Douglas. - -Ginger and William hurled themselves upon the other two and there -followed one of those scrimmages in which the Outlaws delighted. It -ended by Ginger sitting on Henry and William on Douglas, and all felt a -little warmer and dryer and less irritable. The subjects of Red Indians -and divers were by tacit consent dropped. - -It was raining harder than ever. The water was pouring in through the -roof at the other end of the barn. - -“What’ll we _do_?” said Ginger disconsolately rolling off his human -perch. - -Their afternoon so far had not been encouraging. They had with -characteristic optimism aimed at collecting forty eggs before tea. They -had all sustained severe falls from trees, they were wet through, they -were scratched and torn and bruised, and the result was one cracked -thrush’s egg from a deserted nest, which Ginger subsequently dropped -and then inadvertently trod upon while climbing through a hedge. This -incident had made Ginger unpopular for a time. It had drawn forth the -rough diamonds of William’s sarcasm. - -“’S very kind of you, I’m sure. Yes, we took all that trouble jus’ so’s -you could have the pleasure of treadin’ on it. Oh, yes, we feel quite -paid for all the trouble we took now you’ve been kind enough to tread -on it. Can we get you anythin’ else to tread on? I’m sure it’s very -nice for the poor bird to think it’s had all the trouble of layin’ that -egg jus’ for you to tread on----” - -This rhetoric had resulted in a fight between William and Ginger, at -the end of which both had rolled into a ditch. The ditch was not a dry -ditch, but they were both so wet already that the immersion made little -difference. - -“_Do?_” said Henry indignantly. “Jus’ tell us what there _is_ to do -shut up in this ole place. _Do?_ Huh!” - -“I know what we can do,” said William suddenly, “we can make up a tale -turn an’ turn about.” - -They were sitting on the two wooden packing cases with which they had -furnished their meeting place. A small rivulet ran between, having its -source just beneath the hole in the roof at the other end of the barn -and flowing out under the door. The Outlaws carelessly dabbled their -feet in it as it passed. Their drooping spirits revived at William’s -suggestion. - -“A’ right,” said Henry, “you start.” - -“A’ right,” said William modestly. “I don’ mind startin’. Once there -was a man wot got cast upon a desert island.” - -“Why?” said Ginger, “why was he cast upon a desert island?” - -“’F you’re goin’ to keep on int’ruptin’ askin’ silly questions----” -began William sternly. - -“A’ right,” said Ginger pacifically. “A’ right. Go on.” - -“He was cast upon a desert island,” repeated William, “an’ the desert -island was full of savage cannibals what chased him round an’ round the -island till he climbed a tree an’ they all s’rounded the tree utterin’ -fierce yells----” - -“What was they yellin’?” said Henry with interest. - -“How could anyone tell what they was yelling without knowin’ the -langwidge?” said William impatiently. “Do you know the cannibal -langwidge? No, an’ the man din’t, so how could he tell wot they was -yellin’?” - -“Well the one wot’s tellin’ the tale oughter know,” said Henry -doggedly, “_You_ oughter know. The one wot’s tellin’ the tale oughter -know everythin’ _in_ the tale----” - -“Well, I do,” said William crushingly, “but I’m not goin’ to tell _you_ -wot they was yellin’, so _there_. An’ when you’ve all kin’ly finished -int’ruptin’ I’ll kin’ly go on. They was all beneath the tree utterin’ -fierce yells wot I know wot they meant but wot I’m not goin’ to tell -_you_, when he took a great big jump right off the tree, splash into -the sea again an’ caught hold of a whale wot was jus’ passing and got -on its back an’ held tight on by its fins----” - -“I don’t think a whale’s got fins,” said Douglas dubiously. - -“I don’ care whether other whales’ve got fins or not,” said William -firmly, “this one haddem anyway. An’ he kept rearin’ up an’ turnin’ -over so’s to shake the man off but the man held tight and--now, Henry, -go on.” - -“A’ right,” said Henry, “well he went on an’ on on the whale’s back -till he came to a ship an’ he jumped up on to it from the whale’s -back----” - -“He couldn’t have done,” said Douglas firmly. - -“What?” said Henry. - -“Couldn’t have done. Couldn’t have jumped from a whale’s back to a -ship. A ship’s high.” - -“Well, he _did_,” said Henry, “so it’s no use talkin’ about whether -he could or not. If he _did_ he _could_, I should think.” William’s -sarcasm was infectious. “Well, he found it was a pirate ship an’ they -put him in irons an’ made him walk the plank an’ just when he got to -the end of the plank--now Ginger, go on.” - -“Well, you’ve gottim in a nice mess, I mus’ say,” said Ginger bitterly, -“an’ I s’pose you want me to gettim out of it--chased by cannibals an’ -now walkin’ a plank! Well _you_ gottim into it an’ I’m not goin’ to -bother with him. I din’t start it an’ I don’t like it. I’d rather have -soldiers an’ fightin’ an’ that sort of a tale. An’ wot can I do with -him walkin’ the plank? I’m jus’ about tired of that man. An’ he’s not -even gotta name. Well, jus’ as he got to the end of the plank he fell -in an’ the whale ate him up an’ he died.” - -“It isn’t fair,” said Douglas indignantly, “gettin’ him dead before -I’ve had my turn. What’m I goin’ to do?” - -“You can tell about someone catchin’ the whale an’ findin’ his dead -body inside,” said Ginger calmly. - -“Oh, can I?” said Douglas, “well I’m not goin’ to.” - -“No, ’cause you can’t,” jeered Ginger. “You can’t finish it however we -left it.” - -“Oh, couldn’t I?” said Douglas. - -They closed in combat. William and Henry watched dispassionately. - -Douglas’s collar had completely broken loose from its moorings and two -of the already existing tears in Ginger’s coat had been extended to -meet each other. They sat down again on the packing cases. - -“Still raining,” said Henry morosely. - -“I bet your mother’ll say _something_ about that tear,” said William to -Ginger severely. - -“Well, you bet wrong then,” said Ginger, “’cause she’s gone to London -to see the Exhibition.” - -“Fancy goin’ to London to see an ole exhibition,” said William -scornfully, “What she see there?” - -“Oh, natives,” said Ginger, “black uns, you know, an’ native places an’ -jugs an’ things made by natives.” - -“That all?” - -“Well, there’s amusements an’ things too, but that’s all really,” said -Ginger. “You pay money an’ jus’ see ’em’ an’ that’s all.” - -“Crumbs!” said William. His face was set in deep scowling thought for -a minute, then a light broke over it. “I say,” he said, “let’s have -a nexhibition--let’s get a nexhibition up. Well, ’f Ginger’s mother -’ll go all the way to London to see a nexhibition it’d--well, it’d be -savin’ folks’ money to givvem a nexhibition here.” - -“We’ve _done_ things like that,” said Henry morosely. “We’ve got up -shows an’ things an’ they’ve always turned out wrong.” - -“We’ve never got up a nexhibition,” said William, “a nexhibition’s -quite diff’rent. It couldn’t go wrong an’ we’d make ever so much money.” - -“I don’t b’lieve in your ways of makin’ money,” said Henry, “something -always goes wrong.” - -“A’ right,” said William sternly, “don’t be _in_ it. Keep _out_ of it.” - -“Oh, no,” said Henry hastily, “I’d rather be _in_ it even if it _goes_ -wrong. I’d rather be in a thing that turns out wrong than not be in -anything at all.” - -“Where’ll we get natives?” said Ginger. - -“Oh, anyone can look like a native,” said William carelessly. “That’s -easy ’s easy.” - -“What’ll we call it?” said Douglas. - -“The London one’s called Wembley,” said Ginger with an air of pride in -his wide knowledge. - -“What about ‘The Little Wembley’?” said Henry. - -“Well _that’s_ a silly thing to do!” said William sternly, “_tellin’_ -’em it’s littler than Wembley before they’ve come to it. Even if it is -littler than Wembley we needn’t _tellem_ so.” - -“Let’s call it just Wembley,” suggested Douglas. - -“No,” said William, “it would be muddlin’ havin’ ’em both called by the -same name. Folks wouldn’t know which they was talkin’ about.” - -“When I stayed with my aunt,” said Ginger slowly, “there was a place -called a Picture Palace de lucks. Let’s call it Wembley de lucks.” - -“What’s de lucks mean,” said William suspiciously. - -“I ’spect it means sorter good luck,” said Ginger. - -“All right,” said William graciously, “that’ll do all right for a name. -Now how’re we goin’ to let people know about it?” - -“How did they let people know about the other Wembley?” said Henry. - -“They put advertisements in the papers an’ things,” said Ginger who -was beginning to consider himself the greatest living authority on the -subject of the Wembley Exhibition. - -“We can’t do that,” said Henry, “the papers sim’ly wouldn’t print ’em -if we wrote ’em. I know ’cause I once sent somethin’ to a paper an’ -they sim’ly didn’t print it.” - -“Well, then,” said William undaunted, “we’ll write letters to people. -They’ll have to read ’em. We’ll stick ’em through their letter boxes -an’ they’ll _have_ to read ’em case they was somethin’ important. An’ -I say, it’s nearly stopped rainin’. Let’s see ’f we can find any more -eggs.” - - -II - -A week later the Outlaws were sitting round the large wooden table of -the one-time nursery in Ginger’s house. In a strained silence they -wrote out the letter drafted by William, a copy of which was before -each of them. The table was covered with ink stains. Their hair, their -faces, their tongues, their collars, their fingers were covered with -ink. Most of them wrote slowly and laboriously with ink-stained tongues -protruding between ink-stained teeth. - - “DEAR SIR or MADDAM (ran the copy), - - On Satterdy we are going to have a Wembley not the one in London but - one here so as to save you fairs and other exspences there will be - natifs in natif coschume with natif potts and ammusments and other - things which are secrits till the day entranse will be one penny exsit - free ammusments are one penny hopping to have the pleshure of your - compny, - - Yours truely, - THE WEMBLY COMITTY. - - P.S. It is a secrit who we are. - - P.P.S. It will probly be in the feeld next the barn but notises will - be put up latter.” - -When the notes had been written the Outlaws were both physically and -mentally exhausted. They could run and wrestle and climb trees all day -without feeling any effects, but one page of writing always had the -peculiar effect of exhausting their strength and spirits. As William -said, “It’s havin’ to hold an uncomfortable pen an’ keep on thinkin’ -an’ lookin’ at paper an’ sittin’ without a change. It’s--well I’d -rather be a Red Indian where there aren’t no schools.” - -The notices were distributed by the Outlaws personally after dark -in order the better to conceal their identity. They did not deliver -notices to their own families or the friends of their families. Their -own families were apt to be suspicious and not very encouraging. The -Outlaws regarded their families as stumbling blocks placed in their -paths by a malicious Fate. - -At last, spent and weary and ink-stained, they bade each other -good-night. - -“Well, it _oughter_ turn out all right with all the trouble we’re -takin’ over it,” said Ginger rather bitterly. “I feel wore out with -writin’ an’ writin’ an’ walkin’ an’ walkin’ and stickin’ things through -the letter boxes. I feel sim’ly wore out.” - -“I think I’m goin’ to be sick soon,” said Henry with a certain gentle -resignation, “swallerin’ all that ink.” - -“Well, no one _asked_ you to swaller ink,” said William whose position -of responsibility was making him slightly irritable. “You talk ’s if -we’d _wanted_ you to swaller ink. It’s not done any good to _us_ you -swallerin’ ink. ’F you’ve been wastin’ Ginger’s ink swallerin’ it -then you don’ need to blame us. It’s not Ginger’s fault that you’ve -swallered his ink, is it?” - -“Yes, an’ it is,” said Henry, “it got all up his pen an’ on to my -fingers an’ then I had to keep lickin’ ’em to get it off an’ that’s -wot’s made me feel sick. Well, ornery ink doesn’t do that. It’s -somethin’ wrong with Ginger’s ink _I_ should say. It----” - -“_Henry!_” called an irate maternal voice through the dusk, “_when_ are -you coming in? It’s _hours_ past your bedtime.” - -The Outlaws scattered hastily.... - - -III - -The Outlaws had decided to hold the exhibition in Farmer Jenks’ field -behind the barn. Farmer Jenks was the Outlaws’ most implacable foe. -He frequently chased the Outlaws from his fields with shouts and -imprecations and stones and dogs. He had once uttered the intriguing -threat to William that he would “cut his liver out.” This had deeply -impressed the Outlaws and William had felt proud of the fame it won -him. He could not resist haunting Farmer Jenks’ lands because the chase -that always ensued was so much more exciting than an ordinary chase. -“Well, he’s not cut it out _yet_,” he used to say proudly after each -escape. - -But just now Farmer Jenks was away staying with a brother and Mrs. -Jenks was confined to bed, and the farm labourers quite wisely -preferred to leave the Outlaws as far as possible to their own devices. -So the Outlaws were coming more and more to regard that field of Farmer -Jenks’ as their private property. - -The afternoon of the exhibition was unusually warm. The exhibition -opened at 2 o’clock. To the stile that led from the road was attached a -notice - - THIS WAY T - O WEMBLY D - E LUCKS - -and on the hole in the hedge by which spectators were to enter Farmers -Jenks’ field was pinned another notice. - - THIS WAY T - O WEMBL - EY DE L - UCKS. - -At 2.30 which was the time advertised for the opening a small and -suspicious-looking group of four school children had gathered at the -stile. William, his face and bare legs thickly covered with boot -blacking and tightly clutching an old sack across his chest, met them, -frowning sternly. - -“One penny each _please!_” he said aggressively. “An’ I’m part of the -exhibition an’ I’m a native an’ come this way _please_ an’ hurry up.” - -There was a certain amount of bargaining on the part of the tallest -boy who refused to give more than a halfpenny, saying that he could -black himself and look in the looking glass for nothing if that was -all there was ’n a nexhibition, and there was a small scene caused by -a little girl who refused to pay anything at all, and yet insisted -on accompanying them in spite of William’s stern remonstrances, and -finally followed in the wake of the party howling indignantly, “I’m -_not_ a cheat. _You’re_ a cheat--you narsy ole black boy an’ I _won’_ -give you a penny an’ I _will_ come to your narsy old show, so there! -Boo-oo-oo-oo!” - -William shepherded his small flock through the hole in the hedge. Then -he took his stand behind a little piece of wood on which were ranged -pieces of half-dry plasticine tortured into strange shapes. With a -dramatic gesture William flung aside his piece of sacking and stood -revealed in an old pale blue bathing costume that had belonged to his -sister Ethel in her childhood. - -“Now you can look at me first,” he said in a deep unnatural voice. “I’m -a native of South Africa dressed in native coschume an’ this here is -native orn’ments made by me an’ you can buy the orn’ments for a penny -each,” he added not very hopefully. - -“Yes,” said the tallest boy, “an’ we can do _without_ buyin’ ’em equ’ly -well.” - -“Yes, an’ I’d jus’ as soon you _din’_ buy ’em,” said William proudly -but untruthfully, “’cause they’re worth more’n a penny an’ I’ll very -likely get a shillin’ each for ’em before the exhibition’s over.” - -“Huh!” said the boy scornfully. “Well, wot’s next? ’S not worth a penny -_so_ far.” - -“’F it’d been worth a penny _so_ far,” said William, “d’you think I’d’v -let you see it _all_ for a penny. Why don’ you try to talk _sense?_” - -The small girl at the tail of the procession was still sobbing -indignantly. - -“I’m _not_ a cheat. Boo-_hoo-hoo_ an’ I won’t give the narsy boy my -Sat’day penny. I _won’t_. I wanter buy sweeties wiv it an’ I’m _not_ a -cheat, boo-hoo-hoo!” - -“A’ _right_,” said the goaded William. “You’re not then an’ don’t then -an’ shut up.” - -“You’re being very _wude_ to me,” said the young pessimist with a fresh -wail. - -Beyond William were three other sacking-shrouded figures, each behind a -piece of wood on which were displayed small objects. - -[Illustration: “TALK AUSTRALIAN!” COMMANDED WILLIAM. - -“MONKEY, FLUKY, TIM-TIM,” SAID GINGER. - -“CALL THAT AUSTRALIAN?” SAID THE AUDIENCE INDIGNANTLY.] - -“Now I’m a guide,” said William returning to his hoarse, unnatural -voice. “This way please ladies an’ gentlemen an’ we’d all be grateful -if the lady would kin’ly shut up.” This remark occasioned a fresh -outburst of angry sobs on the part of the aggrieved lady. “This,” -taking off the first sackcloth with a flourish and revealing Ginger -dressed in an old tapestry curtain, the exposed parts of his person -plentifully smeared with moist boot blacking, “this is a native of -Australia, and these are native wooden orn’ments made by him. Talk -Australian, Native.” - -The confinement under the sacking had been an austere one and the day -was hot and streams of perspiration mingling with the blacking gave -Ginger’s countenance a mottled look. Before him were wooden objects -roughly cut into shapes that might have represented almost anything. As -examples of art they belonged decidedly to the primitive School. - -“Go on, Ging--Native, I mean. Talk Australian,” commanded William. - -“Monkey, donkey, fluky, tim-tim,” said Ginger, “an’ _crumbs_, isn’t it -hot?” - -“Call that Australian?” said the audience indignantly. - -“Well,” said William loftily, “he’s nat’rally learnt a bit of English -comin’ over here.” Then, taking up one of the unrecognisable wooden -shapes and handing it to the little girl: “Here, you can have that if -you’ll shut up an’ it’s worth ever so much, _I_ can tell you. It’s -valu’ble.” - -She took it, beaming with smiles through her tears. - -“I ’spect some of you’d like to _buy_ some?” said William. - -His audience hastily and indignantly repudiated the suggestion. - -“What do I do _now?_” said Ginger. - -“You jus’ wait for the next lot,” said William covering him up with the -sacking. Ginger sat down again muttering disconsolately about the heat -beneath his sacking. - -Henry was a Canadian and Douglas was an Egyptian. Both were pasted -with blacking and both shone with streaky moisture. Henry wore a large -cretonne cushion cover and Douglas wore a smock that had been made for -use in charades last Christmas. Both obligingly talked in their native -language. Douglas, who was learning Latin, said, “Bonus, bona, bonum, -bonum, bonam, bonum,” to the fury and indignation of his audience. - -In front of Henry were balls of moist clay; in front of Douglas were -twigs tied together in curious shapes. The sightseers refused all -William’s blandishing persuasions to buy. - -“Well, it’s _you_ I’m thinking of,” said William. “’F you go home -without takin’ these int’restin’ things made by natives you’ll be sorry -and then it’ll be too late. An’ you mayn’t ever again see ’em _to_ -buy an’ you’ll be sorry. An’ if you bought ’em you could put ’em in a -museum an’--an’ they’d always be int’restin’.” - -The smallest boy was moved by William’s eloquence to pay a penny for a -clay ball, then promptly regretted it and demanded his penny back. - -It was while this argument was going on that Violet Elizabeth appeared. - -“Wanter be a native like Ginger--all black,” she demanded loudly. - -William, who was harassed by his argument with the repentant purchaser -of native ware, turned on her severely. - -“You oughter pay a penny comin’ into this show,” he said. - -“I came in a different hole, a hole of my own so I’m not going to,” -said Violet Elizabeth, “an’ I wanter be a native like Ginger an’ Henry -an’ Douglas--all lovely an’ black.” - -“Well, you can’t be,” said William firmly. - -Tears filled her eyes and she lifted up her voice. - -“Wanterbean-a-a-tive,” she screamed. - -“All right,” said William desperately. “_Be_ a native. I don’t care. -_Be_ a native. Get the blacking from Ginger. I don’t care. _Be_ one an’ -don’t blame _me_. The next is the amusements, ladies _an’_ gentlemen.” - -There were three amusements. The first consisted in climbing a tree and -lowering oneself from the first branch by a rope previously fastened -to it by William. The second consisted in being wheeled once round the -field in a wheelbarrow by William. The third consisted in standing on a -plank at the edge of the pond and being gently propelled into the pond -by William. The entrance fee to each was one penny. - -“Yes,” said the tallest boy indignantly, “an’ s’pose we fall off the -plank into the water?” - -“That’s part of the amusement,” said William wearily. - -The smallest boy decided after much thought to have a penny ride in a -wheelbarrow.... - - -IV - -Mrs. Bott was walking proudly up the lane. She had in train, not -an earl exactly, but distantly related to an earl. At any rate he -was County--most certainly County. So far County had persistently -resisted the attempts of Mrs. Bott to “get in” with it. Mrs. Bott -had met him and captured him and was bringing him home to tea. She -had brushed aside all his excuses. He walked beside her miserably, -looking round for some way of escape. Already in her mind’s eye Mrs. -Bott was marrying Violet Elizabeth to one of his nephews (she came to -the reluctant conclusion that he himself would be rather too old when -Violet Elizabeth attained a marriageable age) and was killing off all -his relations in crowds by earthquakes or floods or wrecks or dread -diseases to make quite sure of the earldom. Ivory charmeuse for Violet -Elizabeth of course and the bridesmaids in pale blue georgette.... - -Suddenly they came to a paper notice pinned very crookedly on a stile -in the hedge: - - * * * * * - -The distant relation to the peer of the realm brightened. He stroked -his microscopic moustache. - -“I say!” he said, “sounds rather jolly, what?” - -Mrs. Bott who had assumed an expression of refined disgust hastily -exchanged it for one of democratic tolerance. - -“Yars,” she said in her super-county-snaring accent, “doesn’t it? We -always trai to taike an interest in the activities of the village.” - -“I say, I think I’ll just go in and see,” he said. - -He hoped that it would throw her off but as a ruse it was a failure. - -“Oh yars!” she said, “Let’s! I think it’s so good for the village to -feel the upper clarses take an interest in them.” - -The hole in the hedge proved too small for Mrs. Bott’s corpulency, but -the depressed connection of the peerage found a larger one further up -which afforded quite a broad passage when the hedge was held back. - -They entered the field. - -William, his blacking and perspiration falling in drops on to his pale -blue native costume, had just finished the wheelbarrow ride. His hair -stood up round his face in matted clusters. He scowled at the newcomers. - -“You come to the exhibition?” he said sternly, “’cause you’ve gotter -pay a penny ’f you have.” - -The Honourable Marmaduke Morencey took out a sixpence and gave it to -William. William unbent. - -“’F you come round with me,” he said, “I’ll guide you. I’m a guide--a -native guide. I’m a South African, I am.” - -“Rahly?” said the Honourable Marmaduke. - -“How very quaint!” sighed Mrs. Bott with a kindly smile. “I do wish my -little gurl was heah. She’d have loved it. But I don’t let her mix with -common children. She’s so carefully gorded. She’s in the gorden with -her nurse now. She’s a beautiful chehild, and gorded most careful from -chehildhood.” - -[Illustration: THE LAST SHROUDED FIGURE THREW OFF ITS COVERING AND -JUMPED EXCITEDLY INTO THE AIR. “I’M A NINDIAN,” SQUEAKED VIOLET -ELIZABETH, “AND I’M GOING TO DO A DANCE.”] - -[Illustration: “I DO WISH MY VIOLET ELIZABETH WAS HERE,” SAID MRS. -BOTT. “SHE’D BE _SO_ INTERESTED--BUT THERE, I’VE ALWAYS KEPT HER FROM -COMMON CHILDREN.”] - -Henry’s canvas was removed and the Honourable Marmaduke smiled a -weary smile and Mrs. Bott imitated it carefully but not very exactly. - -Ginger was shown and the Honourable Marmaduke’s smile became less weary. - -Douglas was shown and the Honourable Marmaduke almost (not quite) -laughed. He certainly murmured. “I say.... By Jove, you know ... -isn’t it? What?” Even William realised that no higher praise could be -expected of him than that. - -“I _do_ wish my Vahlet Elizabeth was here,” said Mrs. Bott. “She’d be -_sow_ int’rested--but, there, I’ve always kept her gorded from common -children.” - -Then the last shrouded figure threw off its covering and jumped -excitedly into the air. It was dressed in stays and small frilled -knickers. Hair, face, arms and legs were covered with blacking (William -had “borrowed” a good supply from the store cupboard. He was never a -boy for half measures). - -“I’m a Nindian,” squeaked Violet Elizabeth, leaping up and down -joyfully in her scanty attire. “I’m a native Indian in a native-Indian -coschume an’ I’m goin’ to do a native-Indian dance. I’m a Nindian. I’m -a Nindian!” - -With a scream that rent the very heavens Mrs. Bott made a grab at her -erring child. - -At that moment from the other end of the field came a bellow of rage -that drowned even the voice of Mrs. Bott. The Outlaws, paralysed with -terror, saw the dread form of their foe advancing upon them wrathfully -across the field. Farmer Jenks had returned home unexpectedly. - -“Grr-r-r-r-r,” he roared as he ran. “I’ll--I’ll--I’ll--Gu-r-r-r-r-r ... -Ye young.... I’ll ... G-r-r-r-r-r ... At ’em, Rover! Kill ’em, Rover! -Eat ’em, Rover! Ye young ... I’ll.... Gr-r--r-r-r!” - -The Outlaws awaited no explanation. Like so many flashes of lightning -they were through the hole in the hedge and already half way to the -stile. - -After them with little gasps of “By Jove! I say, you know!” panted the -languid aristocrat. Seeing Rover behind him he shed his languidness -and sprinted as he had never sprinted in his aristocratic life before. -Rover pursued them to the stile then returned thoughtfully chewing a -piece of the aristocratic nether garments. - -The native Indian at the maternal scream had taken to its heels, flying -swiftly round the field by the hedge, closely pursued by the irate -maternal person. Farmer Jenks, seeing the other victims had escaped, -turned to the pursuit of Mrs. Bott with a roar of fury. In a few -minutes the native Indian had found another hole in the hedge and was -well on its way to its home--a little flying black and white streaked -figure. - -Mrs. Bott, discovering suddenly that she was being pursued by a -ferocious man, sat down in the middle of the field and began to have -hysterics.... - - -V - -The Outlaws reassembled in the lane. They had changed into their normal -clothes and (partially) removed the blacking. Washing it, as Ginger -remarked, only seemed to spread it. It retreated from the centres of -their faces to their hair and necks. They were extremely weary and -extremely hot. - -The sun still beat down upon the world unmercifully. - -They surveyed sadly the gains of the afternoon--one sixpence and two -pennies. They had lost the other penny and the halfpenny on their -flight from the field. - -“Eightpence,” said Ginger bitterly, “sim’ly wore ourselves out over it -an’ it’s only made eightpence. What can we do with eightpence? Kin’ly -tell me that?” - -It was William, his hair standing up like black smeared spikes around -his earnest red and black face, who told him. - -“We can jolly well get a twopenny glass of lemonade each,” he said. -“Come on.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -“THE HAUNTED HOUSE” - - -“Well, you jus’ tell me,” demanded William, “you jus’ give me one -reason why we shun’t dig for gold.” - -“’Cause we shan’t find any,” said Douglas simply. - -“How d’you know?” said William the ever-hopeful, “how d’you know we -shan’t? You ever tried? You ever dug for gold? D’you know anyone what’s -ever dug for gold? Well, then,” triumphantly, “how d’you _know_ we -shan’t find any?” - -“_That’s_ ’cause why,” said Douglas with equal triumph, “’cause no -one’s ever _done_ it ... ’cause they’d of done it if there’d been any -chance....” - -“They didn’t think of it,” said William impatiently. “They sim’ly -didn’t think of it. In the fields an’ woods f’rinstance--no one can -ever of dug there an’ f’all you know it’s _full_ of gold an’ jewels an’ -things. How can anyone _tell_ till they’ve tried diggin’. People in -England sim’ly didn’t _think_ of it--that’s all.” - -“All right,” said Douglas, tiring of the argument. “I don’t mind -diggin’ a bit an’ tryin’.” - -“You can’t tell it at once--gold,” said William importantly. “You’ve -gotter wash it in water an’ then it shows up sud’nly. So we’d better -start diggin’ by some water.” - -They began operations the next morning by the pond, and had dug -patiently for two hours before they were chased furiously from the -spot by Farmer Jenks and a dog and a shower of sticks and stones. The -washing of the soil had been the only part of the proceeding they had -really enjoyed and a good deal of the resultant mud still adhered to -their persons. They wandered down the road. - -“Well, we’ve not found much gold yet, have we?” said Douglas -sarcastically. - -“D’you think the gold diggers in--in----” William’s geography was -rather weak, so he hastily slurred over the precise locality--“anyway, -d’you think the gold diggers found it in one morning? I bet it takes -weeks an’ weeks.” - -“Well, ’f you think I’m goin’ to go on diggin’ for weeks an’ weeks, I’m -not!” said Douglas firmly. - -“Well, where can we find some more water to dig by, anyway?” said -Ginger the practical. - -“It’s a silly idea diggin’ by water. I bet _I’d_ see gold in the earth -if there was any without washin’ it,” said Henry. - -“An’ I bet you wun’t,” said William indignantly, “I’ve been readin’ -tales about it, an’ that’s what it says. D’you think you’re cleverer -than all the gold diggers in--in--in those places?” - -“Yes, I do, ’f they can’t see gold without washin’ it,” said Henry. - -“Where’s some more water, anyway?” said Ginger again plaintively. - -They were passing an old house in a large garden. The house had -been empty for more than a year because the last owner had died in -mysterious circumstances, but that fact did not affect the Outlaws -in any way. A stream flowed through the overgrown, neglected garden. -William peered through the hedge. - -“Water!” he called excitedly. “Come on, an’ dig for gold here.” - -Led by William they scrambled through the hedge and trampled gleefully -over the grass of the lawn that grew almost as high as their waists. - -“Jus’ like a jungle!” shouted William. “Now we _can_ imagine we’re -in--in--in real gold diggin’ parts.” - -They dug industriously for half an hour. William had a spade, -“borrowed” from the gardener. (The gardener was at that minute hunting -for it through toolhouse and greenhouse and garden. His thoughts were -already turning William-wards in impotent fury). Ginger had a coal -shovel with a hole in it rescued from the dust-bin. Henry had a small -wooden spade abstracted from his little sister when her attention was -engaged elsewhere, and Douglas had a piece of wood. They threw every -spadeful of earth into the stream and churned it about with their -spades. - -“Seems a silly idea to _me!_” objected Henry again. “Jus’ makin’ _mud_ -of it! Seems to me you’re more likely to _lose_ the gold, chuckin’ it -into the water every time. I shun’t wonder ’f we’ve lost lots already, -sinkin’ down to the bottom among the pebbles. We’ve not found much, -anyway.” - -“Well, I tell you it’s the right _way_,” said William impatiently. -“It’s the way they _do_. I’ve _read_ it. If it wasn’t the right way -they wun’t do it, would they? D’you think the gold diggers out in--out -in those places would _do_ it if it wasn’t _right?_” - -“Well, I’m gettin’ a bit tired of it anyway,” said Henry. - -He voiced the general opinion. Even William’s enthusiasm was waning. It -seemed a very hot and muddy way of getting gold ... and it didn’t even -seem to get any. - -Douglas had already laid aside his sodden stick and wandered up to the -house. He was pressing his nose against a dirty, cracked window pane. -Suddenly he shouted excitedly. - -“I say ... a _rat_ ... there’s a _rat_ in this room!” - -The Outlaws gladly threw away their spades and rushed to the window. -There was certainly a rat. He sat up upon his hind legs and trimmed his -whiskers, staring at them impudently. All thought of gold left the -gold diggers. - -“Open the window!” - -“_Catch_ him!” - -“Gettim! Crumbs! Gettim!” - -The window actually did open. With a yell of joy William raised it and -half-rolled, half-climbed over the sill into the room, followed by the -Outlaws, uttering wild war whoops. After one stricken glance at them -the rat disappeared down his hole.... - -But the Outlaws were thrilled by the house. They tramped about the -wooden floors in the empty re-echoing rooms--they slid down the dirty -balusters--they found a hole in a floor and delightedly tore up all the -rotten boards around it--they explored the bedrooms and the cistern -loft and the filthy, airless cellars--they met four rats and chased -them with deafening shouts. - -They were drunk with delight. Their hands and faces were covered with -dust and their hair full of cobwebs. Then William and Ginger claimed -the upstairs as their castle and Henry and Douglas charged from below -and they all rolled downstairs in a mass of arms and legs and cobwebs. -Finally they formed a procession and marched from room to room, -stamping with all their might on the wooden floors and singing lustily -in their strong and inharmonious voices. They had entirely forgotten -their former avocation of gold digging. - -“I say,” said William at last, hot and dirty and breathless and happy, -“it’d be jus’ the place for a meeting place, wun’t it? Better than the -ole barn.” - -“Yes, but we’d have to be quieter,” said Ginger, “or else people’ll be -hearin’ us an’ makin’ a fuss like what they always do.” - -“All right!” said William sternly, “you’ve been makin’ more noise than -anyone.” - -“An’ let’s keep at the back,” said Henry, “or ole Miss Hatherly’ll be -seein’ us out of her window an’ comin’ in interferin’.” - -William knew Miss Hatherly, whose house overlooked the front of the -empty house. He had good cause to know her. Robert was deeply enamoured -of Marion, Miss Hatherly’s niece, and Miss Hatherly disapproved of -Robert because he had no money and was still at college and rode a very -noisy motor cycle and dropped cigarette ash on her carpets and never -wiped his boots and frightened her canary. She disapproved of William -still more and for reasons too numerous to state. - - * * * * * - -The empty house became the regular meeting place of the Outlaws, and -the old barn was deserted. They always entered cautiously by a hole -in the garden hedge, first looking up and down the road to be sure -that no one saw them. The house served many purposes besides that of -meeting place. It was a smugglers’ den, a castle, a desert island, a -battlefield, and an Indian Camp. - -It was William, of course, who suggested the midnight feast and the -idea was received with eager joy by the others. The next night they all -got up and dressed when the rest of their households were in bed. - -William climbed down the pear tree which grew right up to his bedroom -window, Ginger got out of the bathroom window and crawled along the -garden wall to the gate, Douglas and Henry got out of the downstairs -windows. All were athrill with the spirit of adventure. They would -not have been surprised to meet a Red Indian in full war paint, or a -smuggler with eye patch and daggers, or a herd of lions and tigers--or -even--despite their scorn of fairy tales--a witch with a cat and -broomstick walking along the moonlit road. William had brought his -pistol and a good supply of caps in case they met any robbers. - -“I know it wun’t _kill_ ’em,” he admitted, “but the bang’d make ’em -think it was a real one and scare ’em off. It makes a fine bang. Not -that I’m _frightened_ of ’em,” he added hastily. - -Ginger had brought a stick which he thought would be useful for killing -snakes. He had a vague idea that all roads were infested by deadly -snakes at night. They entered the house, disturbing several rats who -fled at their approach. - -They sat around a stubby candle-end thoughtfully provided by Henry. -They ate sardines and buns and cheese and jam and cakes and dessicated -cocoanut on the dusty floor in the empty room whose paper hung in -cobwebby strands from the wall, while rats squeaked indignantly behind -the wainscoting, and the moon, pale with surprise, peeped in at the -dirty uncurtained window. They munched in happy silence and drank -lemonade and liquorice water provided by William. - -“Let’s do it to-morrow, too,” said Henry as they rose to depart, and -the proposal was eagerly agreed to. - - * * * * * - -Miss Hatherly was a member of the Society for the Encouragement of -Higher Thought. The Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought had -exhausted nearly every branch of Higher Thought and had almost been -driven to begin again at Sublimity or Relativity. (They didn’t want to -because in spite of a meeting about each they were all still doubtful -as to what they meant.) - -But last week someone had suggested Psychical Revelation, and they had -had quite a lively meeting. Miss Sluker had a cousin whose wife thought -she had heard a ghost. Miss Sluker, who was conscientious, added that -the cousin’s wife had never been quite sure and had admitted that it -might have been a mouse. Mrs. Moote had an aunt who had dreamed of her -sister and the next day her sister had found a pair of spectacles which -she had lost for weeks. But no one else had any psychic experience to -record. - -“We must have another meeting and all collect data,” said the President -brightly. - -“What’s ‘data’?” said little Miss Simky to her neighbour in a mystified -whisper. - -“It’s the French for ghost story,” said the neighbour. - -“Oh!” said little Miss Simky, satisfied. - -The next meeting was at Miss Hatherly’s house. - -The “data” were not very extensive. Miss Euphemia Barney had discovered -that her uncle had died on the same day of the month on which he had -been born, but after much discussion it was decided that this, though -interesting, was not a psychic experience. Miss Whatte spoke next. She -said that her uncle’s photograph had fallen from its hook exactly five -weeks to the day after his death. They were moving the furniture, she -added, and someone had just dropped the piano, but still ... it was -certainly data. - -“I’m afraid I’ve no personal experience to record,” said little Miss -Simky, “but I’ve read some very exciting datas in magazines and such -like, but I’m afraid they won’t count.” - -Then Miss Hatherly, trembling with eagerness, spoke. - -“I have a very important revelation to make,” she said. “I have -discovered that Colonel Henks’ old house is haunted.” - -There was a breathless silence. The eyes of the members of the Society -for the Encouragement of Higher Thought almost fell through their -horn-rimmed spectacles on to the floor. - -“_Haunted!_” they screamed in chorus, and little Miss Simky clung to -her neighbour in terror. - -“Listen!” said Miss Hatherly. “The house is empty, yet I have heard -voices and footsteps--the footsteps resembling Colonel Henks’. Last -night,”--the round-eyed, round-mouthed circle drew nearer--“last night -I heard them most distinctly at midnight, and I firmly believe that -Colonel Henks’ spirit is trying to attract my attention. I believe that -he has a message for me.” - -Little Miss Simky gave a shrill scream and was carried to the -dining-room to have hysterics in comfort among the wool mats and -antimacassars. - -“To-night I shall go there,” said Miss Hatherly, and the seekers after -Higher Thought screamed again. - -“_Don’t_, dear,” said Miss Euphemia Barney. “Oh--it sounds -so--_unsafe_--and do you think it’s _quite_ proper?” - -“Proper?” said Miss Hatherly indignantly. “Surely there can be no -impropriety in a spirit?” - -“Er--no, dear--of course, you’re right,” murmured Miss Euphemia Barney, -flinching under Miss Hatherly’s eye. - -“I shall go to-night,” said Miss Hatherly again with one more scathing -glance at Miss Euphemia Barney, “and I shall receive the message. I -want you all to meet me here this time to-morrow and I will report my -experience.” - -The Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought expostulated, but -finally acquiesced. - -“What a _heroine!_ How _brave!_ How _psychic!_” they murmured as they -went homewards. - -“What a thrilling data it will make,” said little Miss Simky, who had -now recovered from her hysterics and was feeling quite cheerful. - - * * * * * - -William was creeping downstairs. It was too windy for him to use -his pear tree and he was going out by way of the dining-room window. -He was dressed in an overcoat over his pyjamas and he held in his -arms ten small apples which were his contribution to the feast and -which he had secretly abstracted from the loft during the day. -Bang!--rattle--rattle--rattle!---- Three of them escaped his encircling -arms and dropped noisily from stair to stair. - -[Illustration: THE OUTLAWS STARED AT EACH OTHER, AND THEIR HAIR STOOD -ON END. “A GHOST!” WHISPERED HENRY WITH CHATTERING TEETH.] - -“Crumbs!” muttered William aghast. - -No one, however, appeared to have heard. The house was still silent and -sleeping. William gathered up his three apples and dropped two more in -the process--fortunately upon the mat. He looked round anxiously. His -arms seemed inadequate for ten apples, but he had promised ten apples -for the feast and he must provide them. His pockets were already full -of biscuits. - -He looked round the moonlit hall. Ah, Robert’s “overflow bag!” It was -on one of the chairs. Robert had been staying with a friend and had -returned late that night. He had taken his suit case upstairs and flung -the small and shabby bag that he called his “overflow bag” down on a -chair. It was still there. - -Good! It would do to hold the apples. William opened it. There were a -few things inside, but William couldn’t stay to take them out. There -was plenty of room for the apples anyway. He shoved them in, took up -his bag, and made his way to the dining-room window. - -[Illustration: “SPEAK!” A LOUD AND VIBRANT VOICE CALLED SUDDENLY. -“SPEAK! GIVE ME YOUR MESSAGE!”] - - * * * * * - -The midnight feast was in full swing. Henry had forgotten to bring the -candles, Douglas was half asleep, Ginger was racked by gnawing internal -pains as the result of the feast of the night before, and William was -distrait, but otherwise all was well. - -Someone had (rather misguidedly) given William a camera the day before -and his thoughts were full of it. He had taken six snapshots and was -going to develop them to-morrow. He had sold his bow and arrows to a -class-mate to buy the necessary chemicals. As he munched the apples -and cheesecakes and chocolate cream and pickled onions and currants -provided for the feast he was in imagination developing and fixing -his snapshots. He’d never done it before. He thought he’d enjoy it. -It would be so jolly and messy--watery stuff to slosh about in little -basins and that kind of thing. - -Suddenly, as they munched and lazily discussed the rival merits of -catapults and bows and arrows (Ginger had just swopped his bow and -arrows for a catapult), there came through the silent empty house the -sound of the opening of the front door. The Outlaws stared at each -other with crumby mouths wide open--steps were now ascending the front -stairs. - -“Speak!” called suddenly a loud and vibrant voice from the middle of -the stairs, which made the Outlaws start almost out of their skins. -“Speak! Give me your message.” - -The hair of the Outlaws stood on end. - -“A ghost!” whispered Henry with chattering teeth. - -“Criky!” said William, “let’s get out.” - -They crept silently out of the further door, down the back stairs, out -of the window, and fled with all their might down the road. - -Meanwhile, upstairs, Miss Hatherly first walked majestically into the -closed door and then fell over Robert’s “overflow bag,” which the -Outlaws had forgotten in their panic. - - * * * * * - -Robert went to see his beloved the next day and to reassure her of -his undying affection. She yawned several times in the course of -his speech. She was beginning to find Robert’s devotion somewhat -monotonous. She was not of a constant nature. Neither was Robert. - -“I say,” she said interrupting him as he was telling her for the tenth -time that he had thought of her every minute of the day, and dreamed of -her every minute of the night, and that he’d made up a lot more poetry -about her but had forgotten to bring it, “do come indoors. They’re -having some sort of stunt in the drawing-room--Aunt and the High -Thinkers, you know. I’m not quite sure what it is--something psychic, -she said, but anyway it ought to be amusing.” - -Rather reluctantly Robert followed her into the drawing-room where the -Higher Thinkers were assembled. The Higher Thinkers looked coldly at -Robert. He wasn’t much thought of in high-thinking circles. - -There was an air of intense excitement in the room as Miss Hatherly -rose to speak. - -“I entered the haunted house,” she began in a low, quivering voice, -“and at once I heard--VOICES!” Miss Simky clung in panic to Miss -Sluker. “I proceeded up the stairs and I heard--FOOTSTEPS!” Miss -Euphemia Barney gave a little scream. “I went on undaunted.” The Higher -Thinkers gave a thrilled murmur of admiration. “And suddenly all was -silent, but I felt a--PRESENCE! It led me--led me along a passage--I -FELT it! It led me to a room----” Miss Simky screamed again. “And in -the room I found THIS!” - -With a dramatic gesture she brought out Robert’s “overflow bag.” -“I have not yet investigated it. I wished to do so first in your -presence.” (“How _Noble!_” murmured Mrs. Moote.) “I feel sure that this -is what Colonel Henks has been trying to show me. I am convinced that -this will throw light upon the mystery of his death--I am now going to -open it.” - -“If it’s human remains,” quavered Miss Simky, “I shall _faint_.” - -With a determined look, Miss Hatherly opened the bag. From it she -brought out first a pair of faded and very much darned blue socks, -next a shirt with a large hole in it, next a bathing suit, and lastly a -pair of very grimy white flannel trousers. - -The Higher Thinkers looked bewildered. But Miss Hatherly was not -daunted. - -“They’re clues!” she said, “clues--if only we can piece them together -properly; they must have some meaning. Ah, here’s a note-book--this -will explain everything.” - -She opened the note-book and began to read: - - “Oh, Marion, my lady fair, - Has eyes of blue and golden hair. - Her heart of gold is kind and true, - She is the sweetest girl you ever knew. - But oh, a dragon guards this jewel - A hideous dragon, foul and cruel, - The ugliest old thing you ever did see, - Is Marion’s aunt Miss Hatherly.” - -“These socks are both marked ‘Robert Brown’,” suddenly squealed Miss -Sluker, who had been examining the “clues.” - -Miss Hatherly gave a scream of rage and turned to the corner where -Robert had been. - -But Robert had vanished. - -When Robert saw his “overflow bag” he had turned red. - -When he saw his socks he had turned purple. - -When he saw his shirt he had turned green. - -When he saw his trousers he had turned white. - -When he saw his note-book he had turned yellow. - -When Miss Hatherly began to read he muttered something about feeling -faint and crept unostentatiously out of the window. Marion followed him. - -“Well,” she said sternly, “you’ve made a nice mess of everything, -haven’t you? What on earth have you been doing?” - -“I can’t think what you thought of those socks,” said Robert hoarsely, -“all darned in different coloured wool--I never wear them. I don’t know -why they were in the bag.” - -“I didn’t think anything at all about them,” she snapped. - -They were walking down the road towards Robert’s house. - -“And the shirt,” he went on in a hollow voice, “with that big hole in -it. I don’t know what you’ll think of my things. I just happened to -have torn the shirt. I really never wear things like that.” - -“Oh, do shut _up_ about your things. I don’t care what you wear. But -I’m _sick_ with you for writing soppy poetry about me for those asses -to read,” she said fiercely. “And why did you give her your bag, you -loony?” - -“I didn’t, Marion,” said Robert miserably. “Honestly I didn’t. It’s a -_mystery_ to me how she got it. I’ve been hunting for it high and low -all to-day. It’s simply a _mystery!_” - -“Oh, do stop saying that. What are you going to do about it? That’s the -point.” - -“I’m going to commit suicide,” said Robert gloomily. “I feel there’s -nothing left to live for now you’re turning against me.” - -“I don’t believe you _could_,” said Marion aggressively. “How are you -going to do it?” - -“I shall drink poison.” - -“What poison? I don’t believe you know what _are_ poisons. _What_ -poison?” - -“Er--prussic acid,” said Robert. - -“You couldn’t get it. They wouldn’t sell it to you.” - -“People _do_ get poisons,” Robert said indignantly. “I’m always reading -of people taking poisons.” - -“Well, they’ve got to have more sense than you,” said Marion -crushingly. “They’re not the sort of people that leave their bags and -soppy poems all over the place for other people to find.” - -They had reached Robert’s house and were standing just beneath -William’s window. - -“I know heaps of poisons,” said Robert with dignity. “I’m not going to -tell you what I’m going to take. I’m going to----” - -At that moment William, who had been (not very successfully) fixing his -snapshots and was beginning to “clear up,” threw the contents of his -fixing bath out of the window with a careless flourish. They fell upon -Robert and Marion. For a minute they were both speechless with surprise -and solution of sodium hyposulphate. Then Marion said furiously: - -“You _brute!_ I hate you!” - -“Oh, I _say_,” gasped Robert. “It’s not my fault, Marion. I don’t know -what it is. Honestly _I_ didn’t do it----” - -Some of the solution had found its way into Robert’s mouth and he was -trying to eject it as politely as possible. - -“It came from your beastly house,” said Marion angrily. “And it’s -_ruined_ my hat and I _hate_ you and I’ll never speak to you again.” - -She turned on her heel and walked off, mopping the back of her neck -with a handkerchief as she went. - -Robert stared at her unrelenting back till she was out of sight, then -went indoors. Ruined her hat indeed? What was a hat, anyway? It had -ruined his _suit_--simply _ruined_ it. And how had the old cat got his -bag he’d like to know. He wouldn’t mind betting a quid that that little -wretch William had had something to do with it. He always had. - -He decided not to commit suicide after all. He decided to live for -years and years and years to make the little wretch’s life a misery to -him--if he could! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WILLIAM THE MATCH-MAKER - - -William was feeling disillusioned. He had received, as a birthday -present, a book entitled “Engineering Explained to Boys,” and had read -it in bed at midnight by the light of a lamp which he had “borrowed” -from his elder brother’s photographic apparatus for the purpose. The -book had convinced William that it would be perfectly simple with the -aid of a little machinery, to turn a wooden packing case into a motor -boat. He spent two days on the work. He took all the elastic that -he could find in his mother’s work drawer. He disembowelled all the -clockwork toys that he possessed. To supplement this he added part of -the works of the morning-room clock. He completely soaked himself and -his clothes in oil. Finally the thing was finished and William, stern -and scowling and tousled and oily, deposited the motor boat on the edge -of the pond, stepped into it and pushed off boldly. It shot into the -middle of the pond and promptly sank.... So did William. He returned -home wet and muddy and oily and embittered, to meet a father who, with -a grown-up’s lack of sense of proportion, was waxing almost lyrical -over the disappearance of the entrails of the morning-room clock. - -It had been for William a thoroughly unpleasant day. He was still -dwelling moodily on the memory of it. - -“How was I to know the book was wrong?” he muttered indignantly as -he walked down the road, his hands deep in his pockets. “Blamin’ me -because the book was wrong!” - -If William had not been in this mood of self-pity he would never have -succumbed to the overtures of Violet Elizabeth. William at normal times -disliked Violet Elizabeth. He disliked her curls and pink-and-white -complexion and blue eyes and lisp and frills and flounces and -imperiousness and tears. His ideal of little-girlhood was Joan, dark -haired and dark-eyed and shy. But Joan was away on her holidays and -William’s sense of grievance demanded sympathy--feminine sympathy for -preference. - -“Good morning, William,” said Violet Elizabeth. - -“G’ mornin’,” said William without discontinuing his moody scowl at the -road and his hunched-up onward march. - -Violet Elizabeth joined him and trotted by his side. - -“You feelin’ sad, William?” she said sweetly. - -“Anyone’d feel sad,” burst out William. “How was I to know a book din’ -know what it was talkin’ about? You’d think a book’d know, wun’t you? -Blamin’ me because a book din’ know what it was talkin’ about! ’S’nough -to make anyone feel sad! Well, you’d think a book about machinery’d -know jus’ a bit about machinery, wun’t you?... Sinkin’ me in a mucky -ole pond an’ then when you’d think they’d be a bit sorry for me, goin’ -on’s if it was _my_ fault, ’s if _I’d_ wrote the book!” - -This somewhat involved account of his wrongs seemed to satisfy Violet -Elizabeth. She slipped a hand in his and for once William, the stern -unbending despiser of girls, did not repel her. - -“_Paw_ William!” said Violet Elizabeth sweetly. “I’m tho thorry!” - -Although William kept his stern frown still fixed on the road and gave -no sign of his feelings, the dulcet sympathy of Violet Elizabeth was -balm to his wounded soul. - -“Play gamth with me,” went on Violet Elizabeth soothingly. - -William looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. After all, -one must do something. - -“What sort of games?” said William suspiciously transferring his stern -frown from the road to Violet Elizabeth and, contrary to his usual -custom, forbearing to mimic her lisp. - -“Play houth, William,” said Violet Elizabeth eagerly. “Ith suth a nith -game. You an’ me be married.” - -“Red Indians an’ you a squaw?” said William with a gleam of interest. - -“No,” said Violet Elizabeth with distaste, “_not_ Red Indianth.” - -“Pirates?” suggested William. - -“Oh _no_, William,” said Violet Elizabeth. “They’re tho _nathty_. Juth -a nordinary thort of married. You go to the offith and me go thopping -and to matineeth and thee to the dinner and that sort of thing.” - -William’s dignity revolted from the idea. - -“’F you think I’d play a game like that----” he began coldly. - -“Pleath do, William,” said Violet Elizabeth in a quivering voice. The -blue eyes, fixed pleadingly on William, swam suddenly with tears. -Violet Elizabeth exerted her sway over her immediate circle of friends -and relations solely by this means. Even at that tender age she -possessed the art, so indispensable to her sex, of making her blue eyes -swim with tears at will. She had, on more than one occasion, found that -it was the only suasion to which the stern and lordly William would -yield. - -He looked at her in dismay. - -“All right,” he said hastily. “All right. Come on!” - -After all there was nothing else to do and one might as well do this as -nothing. - -Together they went into the field where was the old barn. - -“Thith muth be the houth,” said Violet Elizabeth, her tears gone, her -pink and white face wreathed in smiles. “An’ now you go to the offith, -darlin’ William, an’ I’ll thee to thingth at home. Good-bye an’ work -hard an’ make a lot of money ’cauth I want a loth of new cloth. I’ve -thimply nothing fit to wear. The offith ith the corner of the field. -You thtay there an’ count a hundred and then come back to your dinner -an’ bring me a box of chocolath an’ a large bunch of flowerth.” - -“’F you _think_----” began William, hoarse with indignant surprise. - -“I don’ mean real onth, William,” said Violet Elizabeth meekly. “I mean -pretend onth. Thticks or grath or anything’ll do.” - -“Or _won’t!_” said William sternly. “’F you think I’m goin’ even to -_pretend_ to give presents to an ole girl----!” - -“But I’m your wife, William,” said Violet Elizabeth. There was the -first stage--a suspicion of moisture--of the swimming tears in the blue -eyes and William hastily retreated. - -“All right, I’ll _see_,” he capitulated. “G’bye.” - -“Aren’t you going to kith me?” said Violet Elizabeth plaintively. - -“No,” said William, “I won’t kiss you. I’m ’fraid of givin’ you some -sort of germ. I don’t think I’d better. G’bye.” - -He departed hastily for the corner of the field before the tears had -time to swim. He was already regretting the rash impulse that had made -him stoop to this unmanly game. He waited in the corner of the field -and counted fifty. He could see Violet Elizabeth cleaning the window -of the barn with a small black handkerchief, then sallying forth with -languid dignified gait to interview imaginary trades-people. - -Then William suddenly espied a frog in the field beyond the hedge. -He scrambled through in pursuit and captured it and spent a pleasant -quarter of an hour teaching it tricks. He taught it, as he fondly -imagined, to know and love him and to jump over his hands. It showed -more aptitude at jumping over his hands than at knowing and loving him. -It responded so well to his teaching in jumping that it finally managed -to reach the ditch where it remained in discreet hiding from its late -discoverer and trainer. - -William then caught sight of an old nest in the hedge and went -to investigate it. He decided that it must have been a robin’s -nest and took it to pieces to see how it was made. He came to the -conclusion that he could make as good a one himself and considered the -possibilities of making nests for birds during the winter and putting -them ready for them in the hedges in the Spring. Then he noticed that -the ditch at the further end of the field was full and went there to -see if he could find any water creatures. He soaked his boots and -stockings, caught a newt, but, having no receptacle in which to keep it -(other than his cap which seemed to hold water quite well but only for -a short time) he reluctantly returned it to its native element. - -Then he remembered his wife and returned slowly and not very eagerly to -the barn. - -Violet Elizabeth was seated in the corner on an old box in a state of -majestic sulks. - -“You’ve been at the offith for more’n a day. You’ve been there for -monthth and yearth an’ I hate you!” - -“Well, I forgot all about you,” William excused himself, “An’ anyway -I’d a lot of work to do at the office----” - -“An’ I kept waiting an’ waiting and thinking you’d come back every -minute and you didn’t!” - -“Well, how could I?” said William. “How could I come back every -minute? How could anyone come back every minute? And anyway,” as he saw -Violet Elizabeth working up her all-powerful tears, “it’s lunch time -and I’m going home.” - - * * * * * - -William’s mother was out to lunch and Ethel was her most objectionable -and objecting. She objected to William’s hair and to William’s hands -and to William’s face. - -“Well, I’ve washed ’em and I’ve brushed it,” said William firmly. “I -don’ see what you can do more with faces an’ hair than wash’ em an’ -brush it. ’F you don’ like the colour they wash an’ brush to I can’t -help that. It’s the colour they was born with. It’s their nat’ral -colour. I can’t do more than wash ’em an’ brush it.” - -“Yes, you can,” said Ethel unfeelingly. “You can go and wash them and -brush it again.” - -Under the stern eye of his father who had lowered his paper for the -express purpose of displaying his stern eye William had no alternative -but to obey. - -“Some people,” he remarked bitterly to the stair carpet as he went -upstairs, “don’ care how often they make other people go up an’ -downstairs, tirin’ themselves out. I shun’t be surprised ’f I die a -good lot sooner than I would have done with all this walkin’ up an’ -downstairs tirin’ myself out--an’ all because my face an’ hands an’ -hair’s nat’rally a colour she doesn’t like!” - -Ethel was one of William’s permanent grievances against Life. - -But after lunch he felt cheered. He went down to the road and there -was Joan--Joan, dark-eyed and dark-haired and adorable--back from her -holidays. - -“Hello, William!” she said. - -William’s stern freckled countenance relaxed almost to a smile. - -“Hello, Joan,” he replied. - -“What you doing this afternoon, William?” - -“Nothing particular,” replied William graciously. - -“Let’s go to the old barn and see if Ginger or any of the others are -there. I’m so glad to be back, William. I hated being away. I kept -thinking about you and the others and wondering what you were doing ... -you especially.” - -William felt cheered and comforted. Joan generally had a soothing -effect upon William.... - -As they neared the stile that led to the field, however, William’s -spirits dropped, for there, looking her most curled and cleaned and -possessive, was Violet Elizabeth. - -“Come on, William, and play houth again,” she called imperiously. - -“Well, an’ I’m not goin’ to,” said William bluntly. “An’ I’m not goin’ -to be married to you any more an’ ’f I play house I’m goin’ to have -Joan.” - -“You can’t do that,” said Violet Elizabeth calmly. - -“Can’t do what?” - -“Can’t change your wife. Ith divorth if you do an’ you get hung for it.” - -This nonplussed William for a moment. Then he said: - -“I don’ believe it. You don’ know. You’ve never been married so you -don’ know anything about it.” - -“I _do_ know. Hereth Ginger and Douglath and Hubert Lane. You athk -them.” - -Ginger and Douglas and Hubert Lane, all loudly and redolently sucking -Bulls’ Eyes, were coming down the road. Hubert Lane was a large fat -boy with protruding eyes, a superhuman appetite and a morbid love -of Mathematics who was only tolerated as a companion by Ginger and -Douglas on account of the bag of Bulls’ Eyes he carried in his pocket. -He had lately much annoyed the Outlaws--by haunting the field they -considered theirs and, in spite of active and passive discouragement, -thrusting his unwelcome comradeship upon them. - -[Illustration: “I SAY, MR. MARCH,” YELLED WILLIAM, “IS IT DIVORCE OR -BIGAMY IF YOU CHANGE YOUR WIFE?”] - -“Hi!” William hailed them loudly from the top of the stile. “Is it -divorce if you change your wife an’ do you get hung for it? She says it -is! ’S all _she_ knows!” - -The second trio gathered round the first to discuss the matter. - -“’S called bigamy not divorce,” said Ginger authoritatively. “I know -’cause our cousin’s gardener did it an’ you get put in prison.” - -“’S _not_ big--what you said,” said Violet Elizabeth firmly. “Ith -divorth. I know ’cauth a friend of mine’th uncle did it. Tho _there!_” - -The rival champions of divorce and bigamy glared at each other and the -others watched with interest. - -“D’you think,” said Ginger, “that I don’ know what my own cousin’s -gardener did?” - -“An’ d’you think,” said Violet Elizabeth, “that I don’t know what my -own friendth uncle did?” - -“Here’s Mr. March comin’,” said Douglas. “Let’s ask him.” - -[Illustration: “HA, HA!” LAUGHED MR. MARCH. “EXCELLENT! WHICH OF YOU IS -NOT SATISFIED WITH HIS SPOUSE?”] - -Mr. March was a short stumpy young man with a very bald head and short -sight. He lived in a large house at the other end of the village and -rather fancied himself as a wit. He was extraordinarily conceited and -not overburdened by any superfluity of intellect. - -“I say, Mr. March,” yelled William as he approached. “Is it divorce or -bigamy if you change your wife?” - -“An’ do you get hung for it or put in prison?” added Ginger. - -Mr. March threw back his head and roared. - -“Ha, ha!” he bellowed, “Which of you wants to change his wife? Which of -you is not satisfied with his spouse? Excellent! Ha, ha!” - -He went on down the road chuckling to himself. - -“He’s a bit cracked,” commented Ginger in a tone of kind impartiality. - -“But my mother says he’s awful rich,” said Douglas. - -“An’ he’s gone on your sister,” said Ginger to William. - -“Then he _mus’_ be cracked!” said William bitterly. - -“Anyway,” said Violet Elizabeth. “It _ith_ divorth an’ I don’ care if -it ithn’t. ’F you don’ play houth with me, I’ll thcream n’ thcream till -I’m thick. I can,” she added with pride. - -William looked at her helplessly. - -“Will you play house with me, Joan?” said Hubert, who had been fixing -admiring eyes upon Joan. - -“All right,” said Joan pacifically, “and we’ll live next door to you, -William.” - -Violet Elizabeth had gone to prepare the barn and Joan and Hubert now -followed her. William glared after them fiercely. - -“That ole Hubert,” he said indignantly, “comin’ messin’ about in our -field! I votes we chuck him out ... jus’ sim’ly chuck him out.” - -“Yes,” objected Ginger, “an’ he’ll tell his mother an’ she’ll come -fussin’ like what she did last time an’ tellin’ our fathers an’ -’zaggeratin’ all over the place.” - -“Well, let’s think of a plan, then,” said William. - -Five minutes later William approached Hubert with an unnatural -expression of friendliness on his face. Hubert was politely asking -Violet Elizabeth to “have a Bulls’ Eye” and Violet Elizabeth was -obligingly taking three. - -“I say, Hubert,” whispered William to Hubert, “We’ve gotter a secret. -You come over here ’n we’ll tell you.” - -Hubert put a Bulls’ Eye into his mouth, pocketed the packet and -accompanied William to where Ginger and Douglas were, his goggle eyes -still more a-goggle with excitement. Joan and Violet Elizabeth were -busying themselves in transforming the interior of the barn into two -semi-detached villas with great exercise of handkerchief-dusters and -imagination. - -“Douglas,” whispered William confidentially, “’s found out a secret -about this field. He got it off a witch.” Hubert was so surprised that -his spectacles fell off. He replaced them and listened open-mouthed. -“There’s a grass in this field that if you tread on it makes you -invisible. Now we’re jus’ goin’ to tread about a bit to see ’f we can -find it an’ we don’ want to leave you out of it so you can come an’ -tread about a bit with us case we find it.” - -Hubert was thrilled and flattered. - -“I bet I find it first,” he squeaked excitedly. - -They tramped about in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly William said -in a voice of great concern. - -“I say, where’s Hubert gone.” - -“I’m here,” said Hubert, a shade of anxiety in his voice. - -William looked at him and through him. - -“Where’s Hubert gone?” he said again, “He was here a minute ago.” - -“I’m here!” said Hubert again plaintively. - -Ginger and Douglas looked first at and through Hubert and then all -around the field. - -“Yes, he seems to have gone,” said Ginger sadly. “I’m ’fraid he mus’ -have found the grass!” - -“I’-I’m here!” squeaked Hubert desperately, looking rather pale. - -“I’ll jus’ see if he’s hidin’ over there,” said William and proceeded -literally to walk through Hubert. Hubert got the worst of the impact -and sat down suddenly and heavily. - -“Boo-hoo!” he wailed rising to his feet. He was promptly walked into by -Ginger and sat down again with another yell. - -“’S mos’ mysterious where he’s got to,” said William. “Let’s call him!” - -They yelled “Hubert!” about the field, callously disregarding that -youth’s sobbing replies. Whenever he rose to his feet one of them -walked through him and he sat down again with a bump and a yell. - -“Did the witch say anything about makin’ them visible again?” said -William anxiously. - -“No,” said Douglas sadly, “I’m ’fraid he’ll always be invisible now and -he’ll die slow of starvation ’cause no one’ll ever see him to give him -anything to eat.” - -Hubert began to bellow unrestrainedly. He rose to his feet, dodged both -Ginger and Douglas who made a dart in his direction, and ran howling -towards the stile. - -“Boo-hoo! I’m going home. Boo-hoo! I don’ wanter die!” - -As soon as he reached the stile, Ginger and Douglas and William gave a -shout. - -“Why, _there’s_ Hubert at the stile.” - -Hubert ceased his tears and hung over the stile. - -“Can you see me now?” he said anxiously. “Am I all right now?” - -He wiped his tears and began to clean his spectacles and straighten his -collar. He was a tidy boy. - -“Yes, Hubert,” said the Outlaws. “It’s all right now. We can see you -now. You mus’ have jus’ trod on the grass. But it’s all right now. -Aren’t you comin’ back to play?” - -Hubert placed one foot cautiously over the stile. - -“Ginger!” said William excitedly, “I believe he’s beginning to -disappear again.” - -With a wild yell, Hubert turned and fled howling down the road. - -“Well, we’ve got rid of _him_,” said William complacently, “and if I’m -not clever I don’ know who _is_!” - -Over-modesty was not one of William’s faults. - -“Well, I bet you’re not quite as clever as you _think_ you are,” said -Ginger pugnaciously. - -“How’ d’you know that?” said William rising to the challenge. “How -d’you know how clever I think I am? You mus’ think yourself jolly -clever ’f you think you know how clever I think I am!” - -The discussion would have run its natural course to the physical -conflict that the Outlaws found so exhilarating if Joan and Violet -Elizabeth had not at this moment emerged from the barn. - -“You _have_ been making a noith!” said Violet Elizabeth disapprovingly. -“Wherth the boy with the Bullth Eyth?” - -“Heth gonth awath,” said William unfeelingly. - -“I want a Bullth Eye. You’re a nathty boy to let him go away when I -want a Bullth Eye.” - -“Well, you can go after himth,” said William, less afraid of her tears -now that he was surrounded by his friends. But Violet Elizabeth was too -angry for tears. - -“Yeth and I thall!” she said. “You’re a nathty rude boy an’ I don’t -love you and I don’t want you for a huthband. I want the boy with the -Bullth Eyth!” - -“What about divorce or big or whatever it is?” said William, taken -aback by her sudden and open repudiation of him. “What about that? What -about being hung?” - -“If anyone trith to hang me,” said Violet Elizabeth complacently, “I’ll -thcream and thcream and thcream till I’m thick. I can.” - -Then she put out her tongue at each of the Outlaws in turn and ran -lightly down the road after the figure of Hubert which could be seen in -the distance. - -“Well, we’ve got rid of _her_ too,” said William, torn between relief -at her departure and resentment at her scorn of him, “and she can play -her silly games with him. I’ve had enough of them. Let’s go an’ sit on -the stile and see who can throw stones farthest.” - -They sat in a row on the stile. It counted ten to hit the telegraph -post and fifteen to reach the further edge of the opposite field. - -Ethel who had been to the village to do the household shopping came -past when the game was in full swing. - -“I’ll tell father,” she said grimly to William. “He said you oughtn’t -to throw stones.” - -William looked her up and down with his most inscrutable expression. - -“’F it comes to that,” he said distantly, “he said you oughtn’t to wear -high heels.” - -Ethel flushed angrily, and walked on. - -William’s spirits rose. It wasn’t often he scored over Ethel and he -feared that even now she would have her revenge. - -He watched her go down the road. Coming back along the road was Mr. -March. As he met Ethel a deep flush and a sickly smile overspread his -face. He stopped and spoke to her, gazing at her with a sheep-like air. -Ethel passed on haughtily. He had recovered slightly when he reached -the Outlaws, though traces of his flush still remained. - -“Well,” he said with a loud laugh, “Divorce or bigamy? Which is it to -be? Ha, ha! Excellent!” - -He put his walking stick against Ginger’s middle and playfully pushed -him off the stile backwards. Then he went on his way laughing loudly. - -“I said he was cracked!” said Ginger climbing back to his perch. - -“He’d jus’ about suit Ethel then,” said William bitterly. - -They sat in silence a few minutes. There was a far-away meditative look -in William’s eyes. - -“I say,” he said at last, “’f Ethel married him she’d go away from our -house and live in his, wun’t she?” - -“U-hum,” agreed Ginger absently as he tried to hit the second tree to -the left of the telegraph post that counted five. - -“I wish there was some way of makin’ them fall in love with each -other,” said William gloomily. - -“Oh, there is, William,” said Joan. “We’ve been learning it at school. -Someone called Shakespeare wrote it. You keep saying to both of them -that the other’s in love with them and they fall in love and marry. I -know. We did it last term. One of them was Beatrice and I forget the -other.” - -“You said it was Shakespeare,” said William. - -“No, he’s the one that tells about it.” - -“Sounds a queer sort of tale to me,” said William severely. “Couldn’t -you write to him and get it a bit plainer what to do?” - -“Write to him!” jeered Ginger. “He’s dead. Fancy you not knowin’ that! -Fancy you not knowin’ Shakespeare’s dead!” - -“Well, how was I to know he was dead? I can’t know everyone’s name -what’s dead, can I? I bet there’s lots of dead folks’ names what you -don’ know!” - -“Oh, do you?” said Ginger. “Well, I bet I know more dead folks’ names -than you do!” - -“He said that anyway,” interposed Joan hastily and pacifically. “He -said that if you keep on making up nice things and saying that the -other said it about them they fall in love and marry. It must be true -because it’s in a book.” - -There was a look of set purpose in William’s eyes. - -“It’ll take a bit of arrangin’,” was the final result of his frowning -meditation, “but it might come off all right.” - - * * * * * - -William’s part was more difficult than Joan’s. William’s part consisted -in repeating to Ethel compliments supposed to emanate from Mr. March. -If Ethel had had the patience to listen to them she would have realised -that they all bore the unmistakable imprint of William’s imagination. - -William opened his campaign by approaching her when she was reading a -book in the drawing-room. - -“I say, Ethel,” he began in a deep soulful voice, “I saw Mr. March this -afternoon.” - -Ethel went on reading as if she had not heard. - -“He says,” continued William mournfully, sitting on the settee next -to Ethel, “he says that you’re the apple of his life. He says that -he loves you with a mos’ devourin’ passion. He says that you’re -ab’s’lutely the mos’ beauteous maid he’s ever come across.” - -“Be quiet and let me read!” said Ethel without looking up from her book. - -“He says,” went on William in the same deep monotonous voice, “he says -that he doesn’t mind your hair bein’ red though he knows some people -think it’s ugly. That’s noble of him, you know, Ethel. He says----” - -Ethel rose from the settee. - -“If you won’t be quiet,” she said, “I’ll have to go into another room.” - -She went into the dining-room and, sitting down in an armchair began to -read again. - -After a short interval William followed and taking the armchair -opposite hers, continued: - -“He says, Ethel, that he’s deep in love with you and that he doesn’t -mind you bein’ so bad-tempered. He likes it. Anyway he ’spects he’ll -get used to it. He says he’ adores you jus’ like what people do on the -pictures. He puts his hand on his stomach and rolls his eyes whenever -he thinks of you. He says----” - -“Will--you--be--quiet?” said Ethel angrily. - -“No, but jus’ listen, Ethel,” pleaded William. “He says----” - -Ethel flounced out of the room. She went to the morning-room, locked -the door, and, sitting down with her back to the window, continued -to read. After a few minutes came the sound of the window’s being -cautiously opened and William appeared behind her chair. - -“I say, Ethel, when I saw Mr. March he said----” - -Ethel gave a scream. - -“If you mention that man’s name to me once more, William, I’ll--I’ll -tell father that you’ve been eating the grapes in the hot-house.” - -It was a random shot but with a boy of William’s many activities such -random shots generally found their mark. - -He sighed and slowly retreated from the room by way of the window. - -Ethel’s attitude made his task a very difficult one.... - - * * * * * - -Joan’s task was easier. Joan had free access to her father’s study and -typewriter and Joan composed letters from Ethel to Mr. March. William -“borrowed” some of his father’s notepaper for her and she worked -very conscientiously, looking up the spelling of every word in the -dictionary and re-typing every letter in which she made a mistake. She -sent him one every day. Each one ended, “Please do not answer this or -mention it to me and do not mind if my manner to you seems different to -these letters. I cannot explain, but you know that my heart is full of -love for you.” - -One letter had a p.s. “I would be grateful if you would give -half-a-crown to my little brother William when next you meet him. I am -penniless and he is such a nice good boy.” - -Anyone less conceited than Mr. March would have suspected the -genuineness of the letters, but to Mr. March they seemed just such -letters as a young girl who had succumbed to his incomparable charm -might write. - -It was William who insisted on the p.s. though Joan felt that it was -inartistic. It had effect, however. Mr. March met William on the road -the next morning and handed him a half-crown then, with a loud guffaw -and “Divorce or bigamy, eh?” pushed William lightly into a holly bush -and passed on. Mr. March’s methods of endearing himself to the young -were primitive.... But the half-crown compensated for the holly bush in -William’s estimation. He wanted to make the p.s. a regular appendage to -the letter but Joan firmly refused to allow it. - -After a week of daily letters written by Joan and daily unsuccessful -attempts on the part of William to introduce imaginary compliments from -Mr. March into casual conversation with Ethel, both felt that it was -time for the dénouement. - -The final letter was the result of a hard morning’s work by William and -Joan. - - “DEAR GEORGE (May I call you George now?), - - Will you meet me by the river near Fisher’s Lock to-morrow afternoon - at three o’clock? Will you wear a red carnation and I will wear a red - rose as gages of our love? I want to tell you how much I love you, - though I am sure you know. Let us be married next Monday afternoon. Do - not speak to me of this letter but just come wearing a red carnation - and I will come wearing a red rose as gages of our love. I hope you - will love my little brother William too. He is very fond of caramels. - - Yours with love - - ETHEL BROWN (soon I hope to be March).” - -The reference to William had been the subject of much discussion, but -William had overborne Joan’s objections. - -“I reely only want it put because it makes it seem more nat’ral. It’s -only nat’ral she should want him to be kind to her brother. I mean, not -knowin’ Ethel as well as I do, he’ll _think_ it nat’ral.” - -The stage managing of the actual encounter was the most difficult -part of all. Ethel’s reception of her swain’s supposed compliments -had not been such as to make William feel that a request to meet him -at Fisher’s Lock would be favourably received. He was feeling just a -little doubtful about the working of Joan’s love charm in the case of -Ethel but with his usual optimism he was hoping for the best. - -“Ethel,” he said at lunch. “Gladys Barker wants to see you this -afternoon. I met her this morning.” - -“Did she say any time?” said Ethel. - -“Soon after three,” said William. - -“Why on earth didn’t you tell me sooner?” said Ethel. - -The road to Gladys Barker’s house lay by the river past Fisher’s Lock. - -“’S not tellin’ a story,” William informed his conscience. “I did meet -her this mornin’ an’ I don’ know that she doesn’t want to see Ethel -this afternoon. She prob’ly does.” - -About quarter to three William came in from the garden carefully -holding a rose. He wore his most inscrutable expression. - -“I thought you might like to wear this, Ethel,” he said, “It goes nice -with your dress.” - -Ethel was touched. - -“Thank you, William,” she said. - -She watched him as he returned to the garden, humming discordantly. - -She wondered if sometimes she misjudged William.... - - * * * * * - -It was ten minutes past three. On the path by the river near Fisher’s -Lock stood Mr. March with a red carnation in his button hole. Concealed -in a tree just above his head were Ginger, Douglas, William and Joan. - -Down the path by the river came Ethel wearing her red rose. - -Mr. March started forward. - -“Well, little girl?” he said with roguish tenderness. - -Ethel stopped suddenly and stared at him in amazement. - -“Ah!” said Mr. March, shaking a fat finger at her, “The time has come -to drop the mask of haughtiness. I know all now, you know, from your -own sweet lips, I mean your own sweet pen.... I know how your little -heart beats at the thought of your George. I know who is your ideal ... -your beloved knight ... your all those sweet things you wrote to me. -Now, don’t be frightened, little girl. I return your affection, but not -Monday afternoon! I don’t think we can manage it quite as soon as that.” - -“Mr. March,” said Ethel, “are you ill?” - -“Ill, my little precious?” ogled Mr. March. “No, well, my little -popsie! Your dear loving letters have made me well. I was so touched by -them, little Ethelkins!... You thinking me so handsome and clever and, -you know, I admire you, too.” He touched the red rose she was wearing -playfully, “the gage of your love, eh?” - -[Illustration: “NOW, DON’T BE FRIGHTENED, LITTLE GIRL,” SAID MR. MARCH. -“I KNOW HOW YOUR LITTLE HEART BEATS AT THE THOUGHT OF YOUR GEORGE.” - -“MR. MARCH!” EXCLAIMED ETHEL, “ARE YOU ILL?”] - -“Mr. March,” said Ethel angrily, “You must be mad. I’ve never written -to you in my life.” - -“Ah,” he replied, “Do not deny the fond impeachment.” He took a bundle -of type-written letters out of his pocket and handed them to her, “You -have seen these before.” - -She took them and read them slowly one by one. - -“I’ve never heard such rubbish,” she said at last. “I’ve never seen the -idiotic things before. You must be crazy.” - -Mr. March’s mouth fell open. - -“You--didn’t write them?” he said incredulously. - -“Of course not!” snapped Ethel. “How could you be such a fool as to -think I did?” - -He considered for a minute then his expression of bewilderment gave -place again to the roguish smile. - -“Ah, naughty!” he said. “She’s being very coy! I know better! I -know----” - -He took her hand. Ethel snatched it back and pushed him away angrily. -He was standing on the very edge of the river and at the push he swayed -for a second, clutching wildly at the air, then fell with a loud splash -into the stream. - -“Oh, I say, Ethel,” expostulated William from his leafy hiding place. -“Don’t carry on like that ... drownin’ him after all the trouble we’ve -took with him! He’s gotter lot of money an’ a nice garden an’ a big -house. Anyone’d think you’d want to marry him ’stead of carryin’ on -like that!” - -At the first sound of his voice, Ethel had gazed round open-mouthed, -then she looked up into the tree and saw William. - -“You _hateful_ boy!” she cried. “I’m going straight home to tell -father!” - -She turned on her heel and went off without looking back. - -Meanwhile Mr. March was scrambling up the bank, spitting out water and -river weeds and (fortunately) inarticulate expletives. - -“I’ll have damages off someone for this!” he said as he emerged on to -the bank. “I’ll make someone pay for this! I’ll have the law on them! -I’ll....” - -He went off dripping and muttering and shaking his fist vaguely in all -directions.... - -Slowly the Outlaws climbed down from their tree. - -“Well, you’ve made a nice mess of everything!” said Ginger -dispassionately. - -“I’ve took a lot of trouble tryin’ to get her married,” said William, -“and this is how she pays me! Well, she needn’t blame me.” He looked at -the indignant figure of his pretty nineteen-year-old sister which was -still visible in the distance and added gloomily, “She’s turnin’ out an -old maid an’ it’s not my fault. I’ve done my best. Seems to me she’s -goin’ to go on livin’ in our house all her life till she dies, an’ -that’s a nice look out for me, isn’t it? Seems to me that if she won’t -even get married when you practically fix it all up for her an’ save -her all the trouble like this, she won’t _ever_ marry an’ she needn’t -blame me ’cause she’s an old maid. I’ve done everythin’ I can. An’ -you,” he transferred his stern eye to Joan. “Why don’ you read books -with a bit of _sense_ in them? This Shake man simply doesn’t know what -he’s talkin’ about. It’s a good thing for him he _is_ dead, gettin’ us -all into a mess like this!” - -“What are you goin’ to do now?” said Douglas with interest. - -“I’m goin’ fishin’,” said William, “an’ I don’ care if I don’t get home -till bed time.” - - * * * * * - -It was a week later. The excitement and altercations and retaliations -and dealing out of justice which had followed William’s abortive -attempt to marry Ethel were over. - -Ethel had gone into the morning-room for a book. The Outlaws were -playing in the garden outside. Their strong young voices floated in -through the open window. - -“Now let’s have a change,” William was saying. “Ginger be Mr. March an’ -Joan be Ethel.... Now, begin ... go on.... Joan, come on ... walkin’ -kind of silly like Ethel ... an’ Ginger go to meet her with a soft look -on your face.... That’s it ... now, start!” - -“Well, little girl?” said Ginger in a shrill affected voice. “I know -how your little heart beats at me. I know I am your knight an’ all -that.” - -“You’ve left a lot out,” said William. “You’ve left out where he said -he wouldn’t marry her on Monday. Now you go on, Joan.” - -“Mr. March,” squeaked Joan in piercing hauteur, “are you mad?” - -“No,” corrected William. “’Are you feelin’ ill?’ comes first. Let’s -start again an’ get it all right....” - -Ethel flounced out of the room and slammed the door. She found her -mother in the dining-room darning socks. - -“Mother,” she said, “can’t we _do_ anything about William? Can’t we -send him to an orphanage or anything?” - -“No, darling,” said Mrs. Brown calmly. “You see, for one thing, he -isn’t an orphan.” - -“But he’s so _awful!_” said Ethel. “He’s so unspeakably dreadful!” - -“Oh, no, Ethel,” said Mrs. Brown still darning placidly. “Don’t say -things like that about your little brother. I sometimes think that when -William’s just had his hair cut and got a new suit on he looks quite -sweet!” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -WILLIAM’S TRUTHFUL CHRISTMAS - - -William went to church with his family every Sunday morning but he did -not usually listen to the sermon. He considered it a waste of time. He -sometimes enjoyed singing the psalms and hymns. Any stone-deaf person -could have told when William was singing the psalms and hymns by the -expressions of pain on the faces of those around him. William’s singing -was loud and discordant. It completely drowned the organ and the choir. -Miss Barney, who stood just in front of him, said that it always gave -her a headache for the rest of the week. William contested with some -indignation that he had as good a right to sing in church as anyone. -Besides there was nothing wrong with his voice ... it was just like -everyone else’s.... - -During the Vicar’s sermon, William either stared at the curate (William -always scored in this game because the curate invariably began to grow -pink and look embarrassed after about five minutes of William’s stare) -or held a face-pulling competition with the red-haired choir boy or -amused himself with insects, conveyed to church in a match box in his -pocket, till restrained by the united glares of his father and mother -and Ethel and Robert.... - -But this Sunday, attracted by the frequent repetition of the word -“Christmas,” William put his stag beetle back into its box and gave his -whole attention to the Vicar’s exhortation.... - -“What is it that poisons our whole social life?” said the Vicar -earnestly. “What is it that spoils even the holy season that lies -before us? It is deceit. It is untruthfulness. Let each one of us -decide here and now for this season of Christmas at least, to cast -aside all deceit and hypocrisy and speak the truth one with another.... -It will be the first step to a holier life. It will make this Christmas -the happiest of our lives....” - -William’s attention was drawn from the exhortation by the discovery -that he had not quite closed the match box and the stag beetle was -crawling up Ethel’s coat. Fortunately Ethel was busily engaged in -taking in all the details of Marion Hatherley’s new dress across the -aisle and did not notice. William recaptured his pet and shut up the -match box ... then rose to join lustily and inharmoniously in the -first verse of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” During the other verses -he employed himself by trying a perfectly new grimace (which he had -been practising all week) on the choir boy. It was intercepted by the -curate who shuddered and looked away hastily. The sight and sound of -William in the second row from the front completely spoilt the service -for the curate every Sunday. He was an æsthetic young man and William’s -appearance and personality hurt his sense of beauty.... - -But the words of the sermon had made a deep impression on William. -He decided for this holy season at least to cast aside deceit and -hypocrisy and speak the truth one with another.... William had not been -entirely without aspiration to a higher life before this. He had once -decided to be self sacrificing for a whole day and his efforts had been -totally unappreciated and misunderstood. He had once tried to reform -others and the result had been even more disastrous. But he’d never -made a real effort to cast aside deceit and hypocrisy and to speak the -truth one with another. He decided to try it at Christmas as the Vicar -had suggested. - -Much to his disgust William heard that Uncle Frederick and Aunt Emma -had asked his family to stay with them for Christmas. He gathered that -the only drawback to the arrangement in the eyes of his family was -himself, and the probable effect of his personality on the peaceful -household of Uncle Frederick and Aunt Emma. He was not at all offended. -He was quite used to this view of himself. - -“All right!” he said obligingly. “You jus’ go. I don’ mind. I’ll stay -at home ... you jus’ leave me money an’ my presents an’ I won’t mind a -bit.” - -William’s spirits in fact soared sky-high at the prospect of such an -oasis of freedom in the desert of parental interference. But his family -betrayed again that strange disinclination to leave William to his own -devices that hampered so many of William’s activities. - -“No, William,” said his mother. “We certainly can’t do that. You’ll -have to come with us but I do hope you’ll be good.” - -William remembered the sermon and his good resolution. - -“Well,” he said cryptically, “I guess ’f you knew what I was goin’ to -be like at Christmas you’d almost _want_ me to come.” - - * * * * * - -It happened that William’s father was summoned on Christmas Eve to the -sick bed of one of his aunts and so could not accompany them, but they -set off under Robert’s leadership and arrived safely. - -Uncle Frederick and Aunt Emma were very stout and good-natured-looking, -but Uncle Frederick was the stouter and more good-natured-looking -of the two. They had not seen William since he was a baby. That -explained the fact of their having invited William and his family to -spend Christmas with them. They lived too far away to have heard even -rumours of the horror with which William inspired the grown-up world -around him. They greeted William kindly. - -“So this is little William,” said Uncle Frederick, putting his hand on -William’s head. “And how is little William?” - -William removed his head from Uncle Frederick’s hand in silence then -said distantly: - -“V’ well, thank you.” - -“And so grateful to your Uncle and Aunt for asking you to stay with -them, aren’t you, William?” went on his mother. - -William remembered that his career of truthfulness did not begin till -the next day so he said still more distantly, “Yes.” - -That evening Ethel said to her mother in William’s presence: - -“Well, he’s not been so _bad_ to-day, considering.” - -“You wait,” said William unctiously. “You wait till to-morrow when I -start castin’ aside deceit an’ ... an’. To-day’ll be _nothin’_ to it.” - - * * * * * - -William awoke early on Christmas day. He had hung up his stocking -the night before and was pleased to see it fairly full. He took out -the presents quickly but not very optimistically. He had been early -disillusioned in the matter of grown-ups’ capacity for choosing -suitable presents. Memories of prayer books and history books and socks -and handkerchiefs floated before his mental vision.... Yes, as bad as -ever! ... a case containing a pen and pencil and ruler, a new brush and -comb, a purse (empty) and a new tie ... a penknife and a box of toffee -were the only redeeming features. On the chair by his bedside was a -book of Church History from Aunt Emma and a box containing a pair of -compasses, a protractor and a set square from Uncle Frederick.... - -William dressed, but as it was too early to go down he sat down on -the floor and ate all his tin of toffee. Then he turned his attention -to his Church History book. He read a few pages but the character and -deeds of the saintly Aidan so exasperated him that he was driven to -relieve his feeling by taking his new pencil from its case and adorning -the saint’s picture by the addition of a top hat and spectacles. He -completed the alterations by a moustache and by changing the book the -saint held into an attaché case. He made similar alterations to every -picture in the book.... St. Oswald seemed much improved by them and -this cheered William considerably. Then he took his penknife and began -to carve his initials upon his brush and comb.... - - * * * * * - -William appeared at breakfast wearing his new tie and having brushed -his hair with his new brush or rather with what was left of his -new brush after his very drastic initial carving. He carried under -his arm his presents for his host and hostess. He exchanged “Happy -Christmas” gloomily. His resolve to cast away deceit and hypocrisy -and speak the truth one with another lay heavy upon him. He regarded -it as an obligation that could not be shirked. William was a boy of -great tenacity of purpose. Having once made up his mind to a course he -pursued it regardless of consequences.... - -“Well, William, darling,” said his mother. “Did you find your presents?” - -“Yes,” said William gloomily. “Thank you.” - -“Did you like the book and instruments that Uncle and I gave you?” said -Aunt Emma brightly. - -“No,” said William gloomily and truthfully. “I’m not int’rested in -Church History an’ I’ve got something like those at school. Not that -I’d want ’em,” he added hastily, “if I hadn’t ’em.” - -“_William!_” screamed Mrs. Brown in horror. “How can you be so -ungrateful!” - -“I’m not ungrateful,” explained William wearily. “I’m only bein’ -truthful. I’m casting aside deceit an’ ... an’ hyp-hyp-what he said. -I’m only sayin’ that I’m not int’rested in Church History nor in those -inst’ments. But thank you very much for ’em.” - -There was a gasp of dismay and a horrified silence during which William -drew his paper packages from under his arm. - -“Here are your Christmas presents from me,” he said. - -The atmosphere brightened. They unfastened their parcels with -expression of anticipation and Christian forgiveness upon their faces. -William watched them, his face “registering” only patient suffering. - -“It’s very kind of you,” said Aunt Emma still struggling with the -string. - -“It’s not kind,” said William still treading doggedly the path of -truth. “Mother said I’d got to bring you something.” - -Mrs. Brown coughed suddenly and loudly but not in time to drown the -fatal words of truth.... - -“But still--er--very kind,” said Aunt Emma though with less enthusiasm. - -At last she brought out a small pincushion. - -“Thank you very much, William,” she said. “You really oughtn’t to have -spent your money on me like this.” - -“I din’t,” said William stonily. “I hadn’t any money, but I’m very glad -you like it. It was left over from Mother’s stall at the Sale of Work, -an’ Mother said it was no use keepin’ it for nex’ year because it had -got so faded.” - -Again Mrs. Brown coughed loudly but too late. Aunt Emma said coldly: - -“I see. Yes. Your mother was quite right. But thank you all the same, -William.” - -Uncle Frederick had now taken the wrappings from his present and held -up a leather purse. - -“Ah, this is a really useful present,” he said jovially. - -“I’m ’fraid it’s not very useful,” said William. “Uncle Jim sent it to -father for his birthday but father said it was no use ’cause the catch -wouldn’ catch so he gave it to me to give to you.” - -Uncle Frederick tried the catch. - -“Um ... ah ...” he said. “Your father was quite right. The catch won’t -catch. Never mind, I’ll send it back to your father as a New Year -present ... what?” - -As soon as the Brown family were left alone it turned upon William in a -combined attack. - -“I _warned_ you!” said Ethel to her mother. - -“He ought to be hung,” said Robert. - -“William, how _could_ you?” said Mrs. Brown. - -“When I’m bad, you go on at me,” said William with exasperation, “an’ -when I’m tryin’ to lead a holier life and cast aside hyp--hyp--what -he said, you go on at me. I dunno what I _can_ be. I don’t mind bein’ -hung. I’d as soon be hung as keep havin’ Christmas over an’ over again -simply every year the way we do....” - - * * * * * - -William accompanied the party to church after breakfast. He was -slightly cheered by discovering a choir boy with a natural aptitude for -grimaces and an instinctive knowledge of the rules of the game. The -Vicar preached an unconvincing sermon on unselfishness and the curate -gave full play to an ultra-Oxford accent and a voice that was almost -as unmusical as William’s. Aunt Emma said it had been a “beautiful -service.” The only bright spot to William was when the organist boxed -the ears of the youngest choir boy who retaliated by putting out his -tongue at the organist at the beginning of each verse of the last -hymn.... - -William was very silent during lunch.... He simply didn’t know what -people saw in Christmas. It was just like ten Sundays rolled into -one.... An’ they didn’t even give people the sort of presents they’d -like.... No one all his life had ever given him a water pistol or a -catapult or a trumpet or bows and arrows or anything really useful.... -And if they didn’t like truth an’ castin’ aside deceit an’--an’ the -other thing they could do without ... but he was jolly well goin’ to -go on with it. He’d made up his mind and he was jolly well goin’ to go -on with it.... His silence was greatly welcomed by his family. He ate -plentifully, however, of the turkey and plum pudding and felt strangely -depressed afterwards ... so much that he followed the example of the -rest of the family and went up to his bedroom.... - -There he brushed his hair with his new brush, but he had carved his -initials so deeply and spaciously that the brush came in two with -the first flourish. He brushed his shoes with the two halves with -great gusto in the manner of the professional shoe black.... Then -having nothing else to do, he turned to his Church History again. The -desecrated pictures of the Saints met his gaze and realising suddenly -the enormity of the crime in grown up eyes he took his penknife and cut -them all out. He made paper boats of them, and deliberately and because -he hated it he cut his new tie into strips to fasten some of the boats -together. He organised a thrilling naval battle with them and was -almost forgetting his grudge against life in general and Christmas in -particular.... - -He was roused to the sense of the present by sounds of life and -movement downstairs, and, thrusting his saintly paper fleet into his -pyjama case, he went down to the drawing-room. As he entered there came -the sound of a car drawing up at the front door and Uncle Frederick -looked out of the window and groaned aloud. - -[Illustration: “DON’T YOU THINK IT’S VERY LIKE ME?” ASKED LADY ATKINSON. - -“IT’S NOT AS FAT AS YOU ARE,” SAID WILLIAM, CRITICALLY. - -“I’M NOT IMPOLITE. I’M BEING TRUTHFUL.”] - -“It’s Lady Atkinson,” he said, “Help! Help!” - -“Now, Frederick dear,” said Aunt Emma hastily, “Don’t talk like that -and _do_ try to be nice to her. She’s one of _the_ Atkinsons, you -know,” she explained with empressement to Mrs. Brown in a whisper as -the lady was shown in. - -Lady Atkinson was stout and elderly and wore a very youthful hat and -coat. - -“A happy Christmas to you all!” she said graciously. “The boy? -Your nephew? William? How do you do, William? He--_stares_ rather, -doesn’t he? Ah, yes,” she greeted every one separately with infinite -condescension. - -“I’ve brought you my Christmas present in person,” she went on in the -tone of voice of one giving an unheard-of treat. “Look!” - -She took out of an envelope a large signed photograph of herself. -“There now ... what do you think of that?” - -Murmurs of surprise and admiration and gratitude. - -Lady Atkinson drank them in complacently. - -“It’s very good isn’t it? You ... little boy ... don’t you think it’s -very like me?” - -William gazed at it critically. - -“It’s not as fat as you are,” was his final offering at the altar of -truth. - -“_William!_” screamed Mrs. Brown, “how can you be so impolite!” - -“Impolite?” said William with some indignation. “I’m not tryin’ to be -polite! I’m bein’ truthful. I can’t be everything. Seems to me I’m the -only person in the world what _is_ truthful an’ no one seems to be -grateful to me. It _isn’t_ ’s fat as what she is,” he went on doggedly, -“an’ it’s not got as many little lines on its face as what she has an’ -it’s different lookin’ altogether. It looks pretty an’ she doesn’t----” - -Lady Atkinson towered over him, quivering with rage. - -“You _nasty_ little boy!” she said thrusting her face close to his. -“You--NASTY--little--boy!” - -Then she swept out of the room without another word. - -The front door slammed. - -She was gone. - -Aunt Emma sat down and began to weep. - -“She’ll never come to the house again,” she said. - -“I always said he ought to be hung,” said Robert gloomily. “Every day -we let him live he complicates our lives still worse.” - -“I shall tell your father, William,” said Mrs. Brown, “_directly_ we -get home.” - -“The kindest thing to think,” said Ethel, “is that he’s mad.” - -“Well,” said William, “I don’ know what I’ve done ’cept cast aside -deceit an’--an’ the other thing what he said in church an’ speak the -truth an’ that. I don’ know why every one’s so mad at me jus’ ’cause of -that. You’d think they’d be glad!” - -“She’ll never set foot in the house again,” sobbed Aunt Emma. - -Uncle Frederick, who had been vainly trying to hide his glee, rose. - -“I don’t think she will, my dear,” he said cheerfully. “Nothing like -the truth, William ... absolutely nothing.” - -He pressed a half-crown into William’s hand surreptitiously as he went -to the door.... - - * * * * * - -A diversion was mercifully caused at this moment by the arrival of the -post. Among it there was a Christmas card from an artist who had a -studio about five minutes’ walk from the house. This little attention -comforted Aunt Emma very much. - -“How kind of him!” she said, “and we never sent him anything. But -there’s that calendar that Mr. Franks sent to us and it’s not written -on. Perhaps William could be trusted to take it to Mr. Fairly with our -compliments while the rest of us go for a short walk.” She looked at -William rather coldly. - -William who was feeling the atmosphere indoors inexplicably hostile -(except for Uncle Frederick’s equally inexplicable friendliness) was -glad of an excuse for escaping. - -He set off with the calendar wrapped in brown paper. On the way his -outlook on life was considerably brightened by finding a street -urchins’ fight in full swing. He joined in it with gusto and was soon -acclaimed leader of his side. This exhilarating adventure was ended by -a policeman who scattered the combatants and pretended to chase William -down a side street in order to vary the monotony of his Christmas -“beat.” - -William, looking rather battered and dishevelled, arrived at Mr. -Fairly’s studio. The calendar had fortunately survived the battle -unscathed and William handed it to Mr. Fairly who opened the door. -Mr. Fairly showed him into the studio with a low bow. Mr. Fairly was -clothed in correct artistic style ... baggy trousers, velvet coat and -a flowing tie. He had a pointed beard and a theatrical manner. He had -obviously lunched well--as far as liquid refreshment was concerned at -any rate. He was moved to tears by the calendar. - -“How kind! How very kind.... My dear young friend, forgive this -emotion. The world is hard. I am not used to kindness. It unmans me....” - -He wiped away his tears with a large mauve and yellow handkerchief. -William gazed at it fascinated. - -“If you will excuse me, my dear young friend,” went on Mr. Fairly, -“I will retire to my bedroom where I have the wherewithal to write -and endite a letter of thanks to your most delightful and charming -relative. I beg you to make yourself at home here.... Use my house, my -dear young friend, as though it were your own....” - -He waved his arms and retreated unsteadily to an inner room, closing -the door behind him. - -William sat down on a chair and waited. Time passed, William became -bored. Suddenly a fresh aspect of his Christmas resolution occurred to -him. If you were speaking the truth one with another yourself, surely -you might take everything that other people said for truth.... He’d -said, “Use this house, my dear young friend, as though it were your -own.”... Well, he would. The man prob’ly meant it ... well, anyway, he -shouldn’t have said it if he didn’t.... William went across the room -and opened a cupboard. It contained a medley of paints, two palettes, -two oranges and a cake. The feeling of oppression that had followed -William’s Christmas lunch had faded and he attacked the cake with -gusto. It took about ten minutes to finish the cake and about four -to finish the oranges. William felt refreshed. He looked round the -studio with renewed interest. A lay figure sat upon a couch on a small -platform. William approached it cautiously. It was almost life-size and -clad in a piece of thin silk. William lifted it. It was quite light. -He put it on a chair by the window. Then he went to the little back -room. A bonnet and mackintosh (belonging to Mr. Fairly’s charwoman) -hung there. He dressed the lay figure in the bonnet and mackintosh. He -found a piece of black gauze in a drawer and put it over the figure’s -face as a veil and tied it round the bonnet. He felt all the thrill -of the creative artist. He shook hands with it and talked to it. He -began to have a feeling of deep affection for it. He called it Annabel. -The clock struck and he remembered the note he was waiting for.... He -knocked gently at the bedroom door. There was no answer. He opened the -door and entered. On the writing table by the door was a letter: - - “DEAR FRIEND, - - Many thanks for your beautiful calendar. Words fail me....” - -Then came a blot--mingled ink and emotion--and that was all. Words had -failed Mr. Fairly so completely that he lay outstretched on the sofa -by the window sleeping the sleep of the slightly inebriated. William -thought he’d better not wake him up. He returned to the studio and -carried on his self-imposed task of investigation. He found some acid -drops in a drawer adhering to a tube of yellow ochre. He separated them -and ate the acid drops but their strong flavour of yellow ochre made -him feel sick and he returned to Annabel for sympathy.... - -Then he thought of a game. The lay figure was a captured princess and -William was the gallant rescuer. He went outside, opened the front door -cautiously, crept into the hall, hid behind the door, dashed into the -studio, caught up the figure in his arms and dashed into the street -with it. The danger and exhilaration of a race for freedom through the -streets with Annabel in his arms was too enticing to be resisted. As a -matter of fact the flight through the streets was rather disappointing. -He met no one and no one pursued him.... - -He staggered up the steps to Aunt Emma’s house still carrying Annabel. -There, considering the matter for the first time in cold blood, he -realised that his rescue of Annabel was not likely to be received -enthusiastically by his home circle. And Annabel was not easy to -conceal. The house seemed empty but he could already hear its inmates -returning from their walk. He felt a sudden hatred of Annabel for being -so large and unhidable. He could not reach the top of the stairs before -they came in at the door. The drawing-room door was open and into it he -rushed, deposited Annabel in a chair by the fireplace with her back to -the room, and returned to the hall. He smoothed back his hair, assumed -his most vacant expression and awaited them. To his surprise they crept -past the drawing-room door on tiptoe and congregated in the dining-room. - -“A caller!” said Aunt Emma. “Did you see?” “Yes, in the dining-room,” -said Mrs. Brown. “I saw her hat through the window.” - -“Curse!” said Uncle Frederick. - -“The maids must have shown her in before they went up to change. I’m -simply _not_ going to see her. On Christmas day, too! I’ll just wait -till she gets tired and goes or till one of the maids comes down and -can send her away!” - -“Sh!” said Uncle Frederick, “She’ll hear you.” - -Aunt Emma lowered her voice. - -“I don’t think she’s a lady,” she said. “She didn’t look it through the -window.” - -“Perhaps she’s collecting for something,” said Mrs. Brown. - -“Well,” said Aunt Emma sinking her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. -“If we stay in here and keep very quiet she’ll get tired of waiting and -go.” - -William was torn between an interested desire to be safely out of -the way when the dénouement took place and a disinterested desire to -witness the dénouement. The latter won and he stood at the back of the -group with a sphinx-like expression upon his freckled face.... - -[Illustration: “I’LL HAVE ONE MORE TRY,” SAID UNCLE FREDERICK, AND -ENTERED THE ROOM. “GOOD AFTERNOON,” HE BELLOWED.] - -They waited in silence for some minutes then Aunt Emma said, “Well, -she’ll stay for ever it seems to me if someone doesn’t send her away. -Frederick, go and turn her out.” - -They all crept into the hall. Uncle Frederick went just inside and -coughed loudly. Annabel did not move. Uncle Frederick came back. - -“Deaf!” he whispered. “Stone deaf! Someone else try.” - -Ethel advanced boldly into the middle of the room. “Good afternoon,” -she said clearly and sweetly. - -Annabel did not move. Ethel returned. - -[Illustration: ANNABEL DID NOT MOVE.] - -“I think she must be asleep,” said Ethel. - -“She looks drunk to me,” said Aunt Emma, peeping round the door. - -“I shouldn’t wonder if she was dead,” said Robert. “It’s just the -sort of thing you read about in books. Mysterious dead body found in -drawing-room. I bet I can find a few clues to the murder if she is -dead.” - -“_Robert!_” reproved Mrs. Brown in a shrill whisper. - -“Perhaps you’d better fetch the police, Frederick,” said Aunt Emma. - -“I’ll have one more try,” said Uncle Frederick. - -He entered the room. - -“Good afternoon,” he bellowed. - -Annabel did not move. He went up to her. - -“Now look here, my woman----” he began laying his hand on her -shoulder.... - -Then the dénouement happened. - -Mr. Fairly burst into the house like a whirlwind still slightly -inebriated and screaming with rage. - -“Where’s the thief? Where is he? He’s stolen my figure. He’s eaten my -tea. I shall have to eat my supper for my tea and my breakfast for -my supper.... I shall be a meal wrong always.... I shall never get -right. And it’s all his fault. Where is he? He’s stolen my charwoman’s -clothes. He’s stolen my figure. He’s eaten my tea. Wait till I get -him!” He caught sight of Annabel, rushed into the drawing-room, caught -her up in his arms and turned round upon the circle of open-mouthed -spectators. “I _hate_ you!” he screamed, “and your nasty little -calendars and your nasty little boys! Stealing my figure and eating my -tea.... I’ll light the fire with your nasty little calendar. I’d like -to light the fire with your nasty little boy!” - -With a final snort of fury, he turned, still clasping Annabel in his -arms and staggered down the front steps. Weakly, stricken and (for the -moment) speechless, they watched his departure from the top of the -steps. He took to his heels as soon as he was in the road. But he was -less fortunate than William. As he turned the corner and vanished from -sight, already two policemen were in pursuit. He was screaming defiance -at them as he ran. Annabel’s head wobbled over his shoulder and her -bonnet dangled by a string. - -Then, no longer speechless, they turned on William. - -“I _told_ you,” said Robert to them when there was a slight lull in the -storm, “You wouldn’t take my advice. If it wasn’t Christmas day I’d -hang him myself.” - -“But you won’t let me _speak!_” said William plaintively. “Jus’ listen -to me a minute. When I got to his house he said, he said mos’ distinct, -he said, ’Please use this----’” - -“William,” interrupted Mrs. Brown with dignity. “I don’t know what’s -happened and I don’t _want_ to know but I shall tell your father _all_ -about it _directly_ we get home.” - - * * * * * - -Uncle Frederick saw them off at the station the next day. - -“Does your effort at truth continue to-day as well?” he said to William. - -“I s’pose it’s Boxing Day too,” said William. “He din’ mention Boxing -Day. But I s’pose it counts with Christmas.” - -“I won’t ask you whether you’ve enjoyed yourself then,” said Uncle -Frederick. He slipped another half-crown into William’s hand. “Buy -yourself something with that. Your Aunt chose the Church History book -and the instruments. I’m really grateful to you about--Well, I think -Emma’s right. I don’t think she’ll ever come again.” - -The train steamed out. Uncle Frederick returned home. He had been too -optimistic. Lady Atkinson was in the drawing-room talking to his wife. - -“Of course,” she was saying, “I’m not annoyed. I bear no grudge because -I believe the boy’s _possessed!_ He ought to be ex--exercised.... You -know, what you do with evil spirits.” - - * * * * * - -It was the evening of William’s return home. His father’s question as -to whether William had been good had been answered as usual in the -negative and, refusing to listen to details of accusation or defence, -(ignoring William’s, “But he _said_ mos’ distinct, he said. Please -use this--” and the rest of the explanation always drowned by the -others) he docked William of a month’s pocket money. But William was -not depressed. The ordeal of Christmas was over. Normal life stretched -before him once more. His spirits rose. He wandered out into the lane. -There he met Ginger, his bosom pal, with whom on normal days he fought -and wrestled and carried out deeds of daring and wickedness, but who -(like William) on festivals and holy days was forced reluctantly to -shed the light of his presence upon his own family. From Ginger’s face -too a certain gloom cleared as he saw William. - -“Well,” said William, “’v you enjoyed it?” - -“I had a pair of braces from my aunt,” said Ginger bitterly. “A pair of -_braces!_” - -“Well, I had a tie an’ a Church History book.” - -“I put my braces down the well.” - -“I chopped up my tie into little bits.” - -“Was it nice at your aunt’s?” - -William’s grievances burst out. - -“I went to church an’ took what that man said an’ I’ve been speaking -the truth one with another an’ leadin’ a higher life an’ well, it jolly -well din’t make it the happiest Christmas of my life what he said it -would.... It made it the worst. Every one mad at me all the time. I -think I was the only person in the world speakin’ the truth one with -another an’ they’ve took off my pocket money for it. An’ you’d think -’f you was speakin’ the truth yourself you might take what any one -else said for truth an’ I keep tellin ’em that he said mos’ distinct, -‘Please use this house as if it were your own,’ but they won’ listen to -me! Well, I’ve done with it. I’m goin’ back to deceit an’--an’--what’s -a word beginnin’ with hyp----?” - -“Hypnotism?” suggested Ginger after deep thought. - -“Yes, that’s it,” said William. “Well, I’m goin’ back to it first thing -to-morrow mornin’.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -AN AFTERNOON WITH WILLIAM - - -William’s family was staying at the seaside for its summer holidays. -This time was generally cordially detested by William. He hated being -dragged from his well-known haunts, his woods and fields and friends -and dog (for Jumble was not the kind of dog one takes away on a -holiday). He hated the uncongenial atmosphere of hotels and boarding -houses. He hated the dull promenades and the town gardens where walking -over the grass and playing at Red Indians was discouraged. He failed -utterly to understand the attraction that such places seemed to possess -for his family. He took a pride and pleasure in the expression of gloom -and boredom that he generally managed to maintain during the whole -length of the holiday. But this time it was different. Ginger was -staying with his family in the same hotel as William. - -Ginger’s father and William’s father played golf together. Ginger’s -mother and William’s mother looked at the shops and the sea together. -William and Ginger went off together on secret expeditions. Though -no cajoleries or coaxings would have persuaded William to admit that -he was “enjoying his holiday,” still the presence of Ginger made it -difficult for him to maintain his usual aspect of gloomy scorn. They -hunted for smugglers in the caves, they slipped over sea-weedy rocks -and fell into the pools left by the retreating tide. They carried -on warfare from trenches which they made in the sand, dug mines and -counter-mines and generally got damp sand so deeply ingrained in -their clothes and hair that, as Mrs. Brown said almost tearfully, they -“simply defied brushing.” - -To-day they were engaged in the innocent pursuit of wandering along -the front and sampling the various attractions which it offered. They -stood through three performances of the Punch and Judy show, laughing -uproariously each time. As they had taken possession of the best view -and as it never seemed to occur to them to contribute towards the -expenses, the showman finally ordered them off. They wandered off -obligingly and bought two penny sticks of liquorice at the next stall. -Then they bought two penny giant glasses of a biliousy-coloured green -lemonade and quaffed them in front of the stall with intense enjoyment. -Then they wandered away from the crowded part of the front to the empty -space beyond the rocks. Ginger found a dead crab and William made a -fire and tried to cook it, but the result was not encouraging. They -ate what was left of their liquorice sticks to take away the taste, -then went on to the caves. They reviewed the possibility of hunting -for smugglers without enthusiasm. William was feeling disillusioned -with smugglers. He seemed to have spent the greater part of his life -hunting for smugglers. They seemed to be an unpleasantly secretive set -of people. They might have let him catch just one.... - -They flung stones into the retreating tide and leapt into the little -pools to see how high they could make the splashes go. - -Then they saw the boat.... - -It was lying by itself high and dry on the shore. It was a nice little -boat with two oars inside. - -“Wonder how long it would take to get to France in it?” said William. - -“Jus’ no time, I ’spect,” said Ginger. “Why, you can _see_ France from -my bedroom window. It must jus’be _no_ distance--simply _no_ distance.” - -They looked at the boat in silence for a few minutes. - -“It looks as if it would go quite easy,” said William. - -“We’d have it back before whosever it is wanted it,” said Ginger. - -“We couldn’t do it any harm,” said William. - -“It’s simply _no_ distance to France from my bedroom window,” said -Ginger. - -The longing in their frowning countenances changed to determination. - -“Come on,” said William. - -It was quite easy to push and pull the boat down to the water. Soon -they were seated, their hearts triumphant and their clothes soaked with -sea water, in the little boat and were being carried rapidly out to -sea. At first William tried to ply the oars but a large wave swept them -both away. - -“Doesn’t really matter,” said William cheerfully, “the tide’s takin’ us -across to France all right without botherin’ with oars.” - -For a time they lay back enjoying the motion and trailing fingers in -the water. - -“’S almost as good as bein’ pirates, isn’t it?” said William. - -At the end of half an hour Ginger said with a dark frown: - -“Seems to _me_ we aren’t goin’ in the right d’rection for France. Seems -to _me_, Cap’n, we’ve been swep’ out of our course. I can’t see no land -anywhere.” - -“Well, we mus’ be goin’ _somewhere_,” said William the optimist, “an’ -wherever it is it’ll be _int’resting_.” - -“It _mightn’t_ be,” said Ginger, who was ceasing to enjoy the motion -and was taking a gloomy view of life. - -“Well, I’m gettin’ jolly hungry,” said William. - -“Well, I’m _not_,” said Ginger. - -William looked at him with interest. - -“You’re lookin’ a bit pale,” he said with over-cheerful sympathy, -“p’raps it was the crab.” - -Ginger made no answer. - -“Or it might have been the liquorice _or_ the lemonade,” said William -with interest. - -“I wish you’d shut up talking about them,” snapped Ginger. - -“Well, I feel almost _dyin’_ of hunger,” said William. “In books they -draw lots and then one kills the other an’ eats him.” - -“I wun’t mind anyone killin’ an’ eatin’ me,” said Ginger. - -“I’ve nothin’ to kill you with, anyway, so it’s no good talkin’ about -it,” said William. - -“Seems to me,” said Ginger raising his head from his gloomy -contemplation of the waves, “that we keep changin’ the d’rection we’re -goin’ in. We’ll like as not end at America or China or somewhere.” - -“An’ our folks’ll think we’re drowned.” - -“We’ll prob’ly find gold mines in China or somewhere an’ make our -fortunes.” - -“An’ we’ll come home changed an’ old an’ they won’t know us.” - -Their spirits rose. - -Suddenly William called excitedly, “I see land! Jus’ _look!_” - -They were certainly rapidly nearing land. - -“Thank goodness,” murmured Ginger. - -“An uninhabited island I ’spect,” said William. - -“Or an island inhabited by wild savages,” said Ginger. - -The boat was pushed gently on to land by the incoming tide. - -Ginger and William disembarked. - -“I don’t care where we are,” said Ginger firmly, “but I’m goin’to stop -here all my life. I’m not goin’ in that ole boat again.” - -A faint colour had returned to his cheeks. - -“You _can’t_ stop on an uninhabited island all your life,” said -William aggressively, “you’ll _have_ to go away. You needn’t go an’ eat -dead crabs jus’ before you start, but you can’t live on an uninhabited -island all your life.” - -“Oh, do shut up talkin’ about dead crabs,” said Ginger. - -“Here’s a hole in a hedge,” called William. “Let’s creep through and -see what there is the other side. Creep, mind, an’ don’ breathe. It’ll -prob’ly be wild savages or cannibals or something.” - -They crept through the hedge. - -There in a wide green space some lightly-clad beings were dancing -backwards and forwards. One in the front called out unintelligible -commands in a shrill voice. - -William and Ginger crept behind a tree. - -“Savages!” said William in a hoarse whisper. “Cannibals!” - -“Crumbs!” said Ginger. “What’ll we do?” - -The white-clad figures began to leap into the air. - -“Charge ’em,” said William, his freckled face set in a determined -frown. “Charge ’em and put ’em to flight utterin’ wild yells to scare -’em--before they’ve time to know we’re here.” - -“All right,” said Ginger, “come on.” - -“Ready?” said William through set lips. “Steady ... Go!” - - * * * * * - -The New School of Greek Dancing was a few miles down the coast from -where William and Ginger had originally set forth in the boat. The -second afternoon open-air class was in progress. Weedy males and -æsthetic-looking females dressed in abbreviated tunics with sandals -on their feet and fillets round their hair, mostly wearing horn -spectacles, ran and sprang and leapt and gambolled and struck angular -attitudes at the shrill command of the instructress and the somewhat -unmusical efforts of the (very) amateur flute player. - -“Now run ... _so_ ... hands extended ... _so_ ... left leg up ... _so_ -... head looking over shoulder ... _so_ ... no, try not to overbalance -... that piece again ... never mind the music ... just do as I say ... -_so_ ... _Ow_ ... _OW!_” - -[Illustration: WILLIAM AND GINGER RUSHED OUT FROM BEHIND A TREE AND -CHARGED WILDLY INTO THE CROWD OF ÆSTHETIC AND BONY REVELLERS.] - -“_Go!_” - -Two tornadoes rushed out from behind a tree and charged wildly into -the crowd of æsthetic and bony revellers. With heads and arms and legs -they fought and charged and kicked and pushed and bit. They might have -been a dozen instead of two. A crowd of thin, lightly-clad females ran -screaming indoors. One young man nimbly climbed a tree and another lay -prone in a rose bush. - -“We’ve put ’em to flight,” said William breathlessly, pausing for a -moment from his labours. - -“Yes,” said Ginger dispiritedly, “an’ what’ll we do _next?_” - -“Oh, jus’ keep ’em at bay an’ live on their food,” said William -vaguely, “an’ p’raps they’ll soon begin to worship us as gods.” - -But William was unduly optimistic. The flute player had secured some -rope from an outhouse and, accompanied by some other youths, he was -already creeping up behind William. In a few moments’ time William and -Ginger found themselves bound to neighbouring trees. They struggled -wildly. They looked a strange couple. The struggle had left them -tieless and collarless. Their hair stood on end. Their faces were -stained with liquorice juice. - -“They’ll eat us for supper,” said William to Ginger. “Sure’s Fate -they’ll eat us for supper. They’re prob’ly boilin’ the water to cook us -in now. Go on, try’n _bite_ through your rope.” - -“I have tried,” said Ginger wearily, “it’s nearly pulled all my teeth -out.” - -“I wish I’d told ’em to give Jumble to Henry,” said William sadly, -“they’ll prob’ly keep him to themselves or sell him.” - -“They’ll be _sorry_ they took my trumpet off me when they hear I’m -eaten by savages,” said Ginger with a certain satisfaction. - -The Greek dancers were drawing near by degrees from their hiding places. - -“_Mad!_” they were saying. “One of them _bit_ me and he’s probably got -hydrophobia. I’m going to call on my doctor.” “He simply _charged_ me -in the stomach. I think it’s given me appendicitis.” “_Kicked_ my leg. -I can _see_ the bruise.” “_Quite_ spoilt the atmosphere.” - -“William,” said Ginger faintly, “isn’t it funny they talk English? -Wun’t you expect them to talk some savage language?” - -[Illustration: MR. BROWN PAID VAST SUMS OF HUSH MONEY TO THE POLICE -FORCE AND BROUGHT IN HIS SON BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK.] - -“I speck they’ve learnt it off folks they’ve eaten.” - -From the open window of the house behind the trees came the loud tones -of a lady who was evidently engaged in speaking through a telephone. - -“Yes, _wild_ ... absolutely _mad_ ... _must_ have escaped from the -asylum ... no one escaped from the asylum? ... then they must have been -_going_ to the asylum and escaped on the _way_ ... well, if they aren’t -_lunatics_ they’re _criminals_. Please send a large _force_.” - - * * * * * - -It was when two stalwart and quite obviously English policemen appeared -that William’s bewilderment finally took from him the power of speech. - -“Crumbs!” was all he said. - -He was quite silent all the way home. He coldly repulsed all the -policemen’s friendly overtures. - -Mrs. Brown screamed when from the lounge window she saw her son and his -friend approaching with their escort. It was Mr. Brown who went boldly -out to meet them, paid vast sums of hush money to the police force and -brought in his son by the scruff of his neck. - -“Well,” said William almost tearfully, at the end of a long and painful -course of home truths, “’f they’d reely _been_ cannibals and eaten me -you’d p’raps have been _sorry_.” - -Mr. Brown, whose peace had been disturbed and reputation publicly laid -low by William’s escort and appearance, looked at him. - -“You flatter yourself, my son,” he said with bitterness. - - * * * * * - -“What’ll we do to-day?” said Ginger the next morning. - -“Let’s start with watchin’ the Punch and Judy,” said William. - -“I’m not goin’ in no boats,” said Ginger firmly. - -“All right,” said William cheerfully, “but if we find another dead crab -I’ve thought of a better way of cooking it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -WILLIAM SPOILS THE PARTY - - -The Botts were going to give a fancy dress dance at the Hall on New -Year’s Eve, and William and all his family had been invited. The -inviting of William, of course, was the initial mistake, and if only -the Botts had had the ordinary horse sense (it was Robert, who said -this) not to invite William the thing might have been a success. It -wasn’t as if they didn’t know William. If they hadn’t known William, -Robert said, one might have been sorry for them, but knowing William -and deliberately inviting him to a fancy dress dance--well, they jolly -well deserved all they got. - -On the other hand William’s own family didn’t ... and it was jolly hard -lines on them (again I quote Robert).... Knowing that they had William -all day and every day at home, anyone would think they’d have had the -decency to invite them out without him.... I mean whatever you said -or whatever you did, you couldn’t prevent it ... he spoilt your life -wherever he went. - -But the Botts (of Botts’ Famous Digestive Sauce) had a ballroom that -held 200 guests and they wanted to fill it. Moreover the Botts had a -cherished daughter of tender years named Violet Elizabeth, and Violet -Elizabeth with her most engaging lisp and that hint of tears that was -her most potent weapon, had said that she wanted her friendth to be -invited too an’ she’d thcream an’ thcream an’ _thcream_ till she was -_thick_ if they din’t invite her friendth to the party too.... - -“All right, pet,” had said Mr. Bott soothingly, “After all we may as -well give a real slap-up show while we’re about it and swell out the -whole place--kids an’ all.” - -Mr. Bott was “self-made” and considering all things had made quite a -decent job of himself, but his manners had not “the repose that stamps -the caste of Vere de Vere.” Violet Elizabeth on the other hand had been -brought up from infancy in the lap of luxury and refinement provided by -the successful advertising of Botts’ Famous Digestive Sauce. - - * * * * * - -The delight with which Robert and Ethel (William’s elder brother and -sister) received the invitation to the fancy dress dance was, as I have -said, considerably tempered by the fact of William’s inclusion in the -invitation. And William, with his natural perversity, was eager to go. - -“Any show we _want_ him to go to,” said Robert bitterly, “he raises -Cain about, but when a thing like this comes along--a thing that he’ll -completely spoil for us if he comes like he always does----” he spread -out his arm with the eloquent gesture of one tried almost beyond -endurance, and left the sentence unfinished. - -“Well, let’s accept for ourselves, and say that William can’t go -because he’s got a previous engagement,” suggested Ethel. - -“But I haven’t,” said William indignantly, “I haven’t got anything -at all wrong with me. I’m quite well. An’ I _want_ to go. I don’ see -why everyone else should go but me. Besides,” using an argument that -he knew would appeal to them, “you’ll all be there an’ you’ll be able -to see I’m not doing anything wrong, but if I was alone at home you -wouldn’t know what I was doing. Not,” he added hastily, “that I _want_ -to do anything wrong. All I want to do is to make others happy. An’ -I’ll have a better chance of doin’ that at a party than if I was all -alone at home.” - -These virtuous sentiments did but increase the suspicious distrust of -his family. The general feeling was that far worse things happened when -William was out to be good than when he was frankly out to be bad. - -“Oh, I think William must go,” said Mrs. Brown in her placid voice. “It -will be so interesting for him and I’m sure he’ll be good.” - -Mrs. Brown’s rather pathetic faith in William’s latent powers of -goodness was unshared by any other of his family. - -“Anyway,” she went on hastily, seeing only incredulity on the faces -around her, “the thing to do now is to decide what we’re all going as.” - -“I think I’ll go as a lion,” said William. “I should think you could -buy a lion skin quite cheap.” - -“Oh, _quite!_” said Robert sarcastically. “Why not shoot one while -you’re about it?” - -“Yes, an’ I will,” said William, “’f you’ll show me one. I bet my bow -and arrow could kill a few lions.” - -“No William, darling,” interposed Mrs. Brown again quickly, “I think -you’d find a lion skin too hot for a crowded room.” - -“But I wun’t go into the room,” said William, “I want to crawl about -the garden in it roarin’ an’ springin’ out at folks--scarin’ ’em.” - -“And you just said you wanted to go to make people _happy_,” said -Robert sternly. - -“Well that’d make ’em happy,” said William unabashed, “it’d be _fun_ -for ’em.” - -“_Not_ a lion, darling,” said his mother firmly. - -“Well a brigand then,” suggested William, “a brigand with knives all -over me.” - -Mrs. Brown shuddered. - -“_No_, William.... I believe Aunt Emma has a fancy dress suit of -Little Lord Fauntleroy that Cousin Jimmie once wore. I expect she’d -lend it, but I’m not sure whether it wouldn’t be too small.” - -Wild shouts greeted this suggestion. - -“Well,” William said offended, “I don’ know who he was but I don’ know -why you should think me bein’ him so funny.” - -The Little Lord Fauntleroy suit proved too small much to the relief of -William’s family, but another cousin was found to have a Page’s costume -which just fitted William. But it certainly did not suit him. As Mrs. -Brown put it, “I don’t know quite what’s wrong with the costume but -somehow it looks so much more attractive off than on.” - -Robert was to go as Henry V and Ethel as Night. - -William to his delight found that all the members of his immediate -circle of friends (known to themselves as the Outlaws) had been invited -to the fancy dress dance. All had wished to go as animals or brigands -or pirates, but family opposition and the offer of the loan of costumes -from other branches of their families had been too strong in every -case. Ginger was to be an Ace of Clubs, Henry a Gondolier (“dunno what -it is,” remarked Henry despondently, “but you bet it’s nothing exciting -or they wouldn’t have let me be it”). Douglas was to be a Goat Herd -(“It’s an ole Little Boy Blue set-out,” he explained mournfully, “but I -said I wouldn’t go if they didn’t call it something else. Not but what -everyone’ll _know_,” he ended gloomily). - -“An’ we could’ve been brigands s’easy, s’easy,” said Ginger -indignantly. “Why, you only want a shirt an’ a pair of trousers an’ -a coloured handkerchief round your head an’ a scarf thing round your -waist with a few knives an’ choppers an’ things on it.... No trouble at -all for them, an’ they jus’ won’t let us--jus’ cause we want to.” - -There was a short silence. Then William spoke. “Well, _let’s_,” he -said, “let’s get Brigands things an’ change into ’em when we’ve got -there. They’ll never know. They’ll never notice. We’ll hide ’em in -the old summer house by the lake an’ go an’ change there, an’--an’ we -won’t wear their rotten ole Boy Blues an’ Gondowhatevritis. We’ll be -Brigands.” - -“We’ll be Brigands,” agreed the Outlaws joyfully. - - * * * * * - -The Botts were having a large house party for the occasion. - -“Lord Merton is going to be there,” said Mrs. Brown to her husband, -looking up from her usual occupation of darning socks, as he entered -the room. “Just fancy! He’s in the Cabinet! Mr. Bott’s got to know -his son in business and he’s coming down for it and going to stay the -night.” - -“_That_ fellow!” snorted Mr. Brown, “he ought to be shot.” Mr. Brown’s -political views were always very decided and very violent. “He’s -ruining the country.” - -“Is he, dear?” said Mrs. Brown in her usual placid voice. “But I’m -sure he’ll look awfully nice as a Toreador. She says he’s going as a -Toreador.” - -“Toreador!” snorted Mr. Brown, “very appropriate too. He _is_ a -Toreador!--and we’re the--bull. I tell you that man’s policy is -bringing the country to rack and ruin. When you’re dying of starvation -you can think of the fellow Toreadoring--Toreador indeed! I wonder -decent people have him in their houses. Toreador indeed. I tell you -he’s bleeding the country to death. He ought to be hung for murder. -That man’s policy, I tell you, is wicked--_criminal_. Leave him alone -and in ten years time he’ll have wiped out half the population of -England by slow starvation. He’s killing trade. He’s _ruining_ the -country.” - -“Yes, dear,” murmured Mrs. Brown, “I’m sure you’re right.... I think -these blue socks of yours are almost done, don’t you?” - -“_Ruining_ it!” snorted Mr. Brown, going out of the room and slamming -the door. - -William looked up from the table where he was engaged theoretically in -doing his homework. Practically he was engaged in sticking pins into -the lid of his pencil case. - -“Why’s he not in prison if he’s like that?” said William. - -“Who, darling?” said Mrs. Brown, “your father?” - -“No, the man he was talking about. And what’s a Toreador?” - -“Oh ... a man who fights bulls.” - -William’s spirits rose. - -“Will there be bulls there?” - -“I hope not, dear.” - -“Shall I go as a bull? It seems silly to have a Tor--what you said, -without a bull. I could easy get a bull skin. I ’spect the butcher’d -give me one.” - -Mrs. Brown shuddered. - -“No dear, most certainly not. Now do get on with your homework.” - -William, having fixed all his pins except one into the lid, now took -the last pin and began to twang them with it. They made different -noises according as they were twanged near the head or near the point. -Mrs. Brown looked up, then bent her head again over her darning ... -what funny things they taught children nowadays, she thought. - - * * * * * - -The day of the dance drew nearer. Robert was still feeling sore at the -prospect of William’s presence. He relieved his feelings by jeering -at William’s costume. William himself, as it happened, was not quite -happy about the costume. It was a long stretch from the animal skin and -Brigand’s apparel of his fancy to this pale blue sateen of reality. -When he heard a visitor, to whom Mrs. Brown showed it, say that it was -“picturesque” his distrust of it grew deeper. - -Robert was never tired of alluding to it. “Won’t William look sweet?” -he would say, and “Don’t frown like that, William. That won’t go with -the little Prince Charming costume at all.” - -William accepted these taunts with outward indifference, but no one -insulted William with impunity. Robert might have taken warning from -past experiences.... - -When not engaged in tempting the Fates by teasing William, Robert was -engaged in trying to win the affection of a female epitome of all -the virtues and graces who had come to stay with the Crewes for the -dance. This celestial creature was called Glory Tompkins. Robert called -her Gloire as being more romantic. At least he spelt it Gloire but -pronounced it Glor. Through Robert’s life there passed a never-ending -procession of young females endowed with every beauty of form and soul. -To each one in turn he sincerely vowed eternal fidelity. Each one was -told in hoarse accents how from now onwards his whole life would be -dedicated to making himself more worthy of her. Then after a week or -two her startling perfection would seem less startling, and someone -yet more perfect would dawn upon the horizon, shattering poor Robert’s -susceptible soul yet again. Fortunately the fidelity of these youthful -radiant beings was about on a par with Robert’s own.... Anyway Glory -was the latest, and Robert called on the Crewes every evening to tell -Glory with his eyes (the expression that he fondly imagined to express -lifelong passion as a matter of fact was suggestive chiefly of acute -indigestion) or with his lips how empty and worthless his life had been -till he met her.... - -William had his eye on the affair. He generally followed Robert’s -love affairs with interest, though it was difficult to keep pace with -them. A handle against Robert was useful and more than once Robert’s -love affairs had afforded useful handles. Robert’s physical size -and strength made William wary in his choice of weapons, but it was -generally William who scored.... - - * * * * * - -On the day before the dance Robert had written a note to Miss Tompkins. - - “BELOVED GLOIRE (Robert preferred writing Gloire to saying it because - he had a vague suspicion that he didn’t pronounce it quite right). - - “You will know with what deep feelings I am looking forward to - to-morrow. Will you have the 1st and 3rd and 4th and 7th and 8th with - me. The 4th is the Blues you know that we have been practising. If - it is fine and the moon is out shall we sit out the 1st in the rose - garden on the seat by the sundial? It will be my first meeting with - you for two days and I do not want it profaned by other people, who - know and care nothing of our deep feeling for each other, all about - us. When the music starts will you be there, and just for the few - sacred moments we will tell each other all that is in our souls. Then - we will be gay for the rest of the evening, but the memory of those - few sacred minutes of the first dance in the rose garden, just you and - me and the moon and the roses, will be with us in our souls all the - evening. - - “Your knight, - - “ROBERT.” - -He was going to take it himself though he knew that his idol had gone -away for the day. However a friend hailed him just as he was setting -out, so he put the note on the hatstand and went out to join his -friend, meaning to take the note later. - -He met William just coming in. - -“Hello, little page----” he said in mock affection. - -William looked at him, his brows drawn into a frown, his most -sphinx-like expression upon his freckled face. William’s stubbly hair -as usual stood up around his face like a halo.... William was not -beautiful. - -Robert, whistling gaily, went down the steps to join his friend at the -gate. - -William took up the note, read the address, and went into the -drawing-room where Mrs. Brown was, as usual, darning socks. - -“Sh’ I take this note for Robert?” he said, assuming his earnestly -virtuous expression. Mrs. Brown was touched. - -“Yes, dear,” she said, “how thoughtful of you.” - -An hour later Robert returned. “I say,” he said, “where’s that note? I -left a note here. Has it been taken round?” - -“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Brown absently. - -At that moment William was sitting on a gate far from the main road -reading the note. On his face was a smile of pure bliss. There was a -look of purpose in his eye. - - * * * * * - -The evening arrived. William as a Page, Ginger as Ace of Clubs, Douglas -as a Goat Herd, Henry as a Gondolier, stood in a sheepish group and -were gazed at proudly by their fond mothers. They looked far from -happy, but the thought of the Brigands’ clothes concealed in the summer -house comforted them. Robert as Henry V was having a good deal of -trouble with his costume. He had closed the vizor of his helmet and -it refused to open. Several of his friends were trying to force it. -Muffled groans came from within. - -[Illustration: “JUST TO THINK, DARLING,” MURMURED ROBERT, “THAT LAST -WEEK I DIDN’T KNOW YOU. YOU’VE GIVEN A NEW MEANING TO MY LIFE.”] - -Violet Elizabeth was dressed as a Star. She was leaping up and down and -squeaking, “Look at me. I’m a thtar!” She shed stars at every leap, and -an attendant nurse armed with needle and cotton sewed them on again. - -Pierrots, peasant girls, harlequins, kings, queens, gypsies and -representatives of every nationality filled the room. It was noticed, -with no particular interest on anyone’s part, that William the Page was -no longer the centre of the sheepish group of fancy-dressed Outlaws. -William the Page had crept into the ladies’ dressing-room, and in the -temporary absence of the attendant (who was engaged in carrying on -an impromptu flirtation with a good-looking chauffeur in the drive) -he purloined a lady’s black velvet evening cloak and a filmy scarf. -Fortunately the cloak had a hood.... - - * * * * * - -Robert, helmetless and rather purple in the face as the result of his -prolonged sojourn behind his vizor (from which he had finally been -freed by a tin opener borrowed from the kitchen), came to the rose -garden. Upon the seat that was the appointed trysting place a petite -figure was awaiting him shrouded in a cloak. - -“Glory!” breathed Robert softly. - -The figure seemed to sway towards him, though its face was still -completely hidden by its scarf and hood. - -Robert slipped his strong arm round it, and it nestled on his shoulder. - -“Just to think,” murmured Robert, “that this time last week I didn’t -know you. You’ve given an entirely new meaning to my life--I feel that -everything will be different now. I shall give up all my life to trying -to be more worthy of you----” - -The figure gave a sudden snort and Robert started. - -“Glor! Are you ill?” - -The figure hastily emitted a deep groan. - -Robert sprang up. - -“Glor,” he cried in distress. “I’ll get you some water. I’ll call a -doctor. I’ll----” - -He fled into the house, where he got a glass of water and actually -found a doctor--a very unhappy doctor in a hired Italian costume that -was too small for him. When he found the seat empty he turned upon -Robert indignantly. - -“But she _was_ here,” said the bewildered Robert. “I left her here in -the most awful agony. My God, if she’s dead.” - -“If she’s dead,” said the doctor coldly, “I’m afraid I can’t do -anything. I’m sorry to seem unsympathetic, but if you knew the pain it -causes me to walk in these clothes you’d understand my saying that I’ll -let the whole world die in awful agony before I come out here again on -your wild goose chase after dying females.” - -Robert was hunting distractedly under all the bushes around the seat.... - - * * * * * - -The Outlaws had changed their clothes. They stood arrayed as -Brigands in all the glory of coloured scarves and handkerchiefs and -murderous-looking weapons. Upon the floor lay the limp outer coating of -the Page, the Ace of Clubs, the Gondolier and the Goat Herd. They leapt -with joy and brandished kitchen choppers and bread knives and trowels. - -“Now what’re we going to _do?_” said Ginger. - -“Everyone else is dancing,” suggested Douglas mildly. - -“_Dancing!_” repeated William scornfully. “D’you think we’ve put these -things on to _dance?_” - -“Well, what’re we goin’ to do?” said Ginger. - -“There’s one thing we mus’ do first of all,” said William. He spoke in -his leader’s manner and his freckled face was stern. “There’s a man -here dressed as a tor--as a bull killer.” - -“A Toreador,” said Douglas with an air of superior knowledge. - -William looked at him crushingly. - -“Well--din’ I say that?” he said, then turning to the others. “Well, -this man, this torrydoor man’s been starvin’ folks an’ killin’ ’em. I -heard my father say so. Well, we’ve gotter _do_ something--we may never -get a chance of gettin’ him again. He’s a starver an’ a murderer, I -heard my father say so, an’ we’ve gotter _do_ something to him.” - -“_How?_” said the Brigands. - -“Well, you listen to me,” said William. - -The Brigands gathered round. - - * * * * * - -William crept round the outside of the ballroom. Through the open -window came the sound of the band, and looking in, William could see -couples of gaily dancing youths and maidens in fantastic dresses. Near -one open window Henry V stood with a small and dainty Columbine. - -“But it _is_ my dance with you, Glor,” Henry V was saying hoarsely. “I -wrote to you and asked you, and oh, I’m so glad that you’re better. -I’ve been through hours of agony thinking you were dead.” - -“You’re absolutely mad,” Glory replied impatiently. “I’ve no idea what -you’re talking about. You never wrote and you’ve never asked me for a -dance. I’ve never seen you all evening till this minute, except in the -distance with everyone trying to pull your head off. You shouldn’t come -in a costume like that if you don’t know how to open and shut it, and -now you suddenly come and begin to talk nonsense about me being dead.” - -“Glor----” - -“I wish you’d _stop_ calling me by that silly name.” - -“But--Glor--Glory--you _must_ have got my note. You were in the rose -garden. You let me put my arm round you. I’ve been treasuring the -memory all evening when I wasn’t racked with agony at the thought of -you being ill--or dead.” - -“I _never_ met you in the rose garden. You’re _mad!_” - -“I’m not. You did. Oh, Glor----” - -“_Stop_ calling me that. It sounds like a patent medicine or a new -kind of metal polish ... and as you don’t care for me enough to get -a dance in decent time, and as you go mooning about the garden with -other girls--girls who seem to go dying all over the place from your -account--and pretend you think they’re me----” - -“I didn’t pretend. I thought it was. It must have been. Oh, Glor----” - -“_Stop_ saying that! I’ve simply finished with you. Well, if you don’t -care about me enough to know who _is_ me and--thank you, when I want -to die I’ll do it at home and not in a beastly old rose garden--so -_there_--And I’ve _finished_ with you, Robert Brown,--so _there_.” - -Columbine flounced off and Henry V, pale and distraught, pursued her -with a ghostly, “Oh, Glor----” - -The Brigand passed on, a faint smile on his face. - - * * * * * - -The Toreador had found a quiet corner in the empty smoking-room and -was relaxing his weary limbs in an arm chair. He had indulged in a -quiet smoke and was now indulging in a quiet doze.... He did not -like dancing. He did not like wearing fancy dress. He did not like -the Botts. He did not like the noise of the band. He did not like -anything.... - -He opened his eyes with a start, conscious of an alien presence. By his -side he saw a small and very villainous-looking Brigand with a stern -freckled face, a row of gardening tools and a carving knife round his -waist and a red handkerchief tied round his head. - -“There’s a Russian wants to see you,” said the Brigand in a dramatic -whisper, “he’s waiting for you in the coach-house. He’s gotter message -for you from the Russians--private.” - -The Toreador sat up and rubbed his eyes. The Brigand was still there. - -“Please say it again,” said the Toreador. - -“There’s a Russian wants to see you. He’s waiting for you in the -coach-house. He’s gotter message for you from the Russians,” repeated -the Brigand. - -“Where did you say he was?” said the Toreador. - -“In the coach-house.” - -“And what do you say he’s got?” - -“A message from the Russians.” - -“What Russians?” - -“All the Russians.” - -“Good Lord!” said the Toreador. “Just pinch me, will you?” - -William obeyed without a flicker of expression upon his face. - -“Still here,” said the Toreador in a resigned tone of voice. “I thought -it might be a nightmare. Well, there’s no harm in going to see. What’s -he like?” - -“Oh--just like a Russian,” said William vaguely. “Russian clothes an’ -Russian face an’--an’--Russian boots.” - -“How did he get here?” - -“Walked,” said William calmly. “Walked all the way from Russia.” - -“Does he speak English?” - -“No. Russian.” - -“How do you know what he says then?” - -“I learn Russian at school,” said William with admirable presence of -mind. - -“You’re a linguist,” commented the Toreador. - -“No, I’m not,” corrected William, “I’m English like you.” - -They were on the way to the coach-house. - -“I may as well see it through,” said the Toreador. “It’s so intriguing. -It’s like Alice in Wonderland. A Russian brought a message from all the -Russians and walked all the way from Russia. He must have started when -he was quite a child. It’s better than being bored to death watching -idiots making still greater idiots of themselves.” - -“This is the coach-house,” said the Brigand. - -“It’s dark.” - -“Yes,” said the Brigand. “He’s right in the corner over there. He’s -just having a little sleep.” - -The Toreador stepped into the coach-house. The door was immediately -slammed and bolted from outside. The Toreador took out his pocket torch -and looked round the room. It was empty. No Russian in Russian boots, -etc., with a message from all the Russians slept in a corner. The only -means of exit were the door and a barred window. He went to the barred -window. Four small stern Brigands stood outside. - -“I say,” said the Toreador. “Look here----” - -The freckled frowning Brigand who had led him there spoke. - -“We’re not going to let you out,” he said, “till you’ve promised to go -away from England and never come back.” - -“But _why?_” said the Toreador. “Why should I? I know it’s all a dream. -But just tell me why I should, anyway.” - -“Because you’re starvin’ an’ killin’ folks,” said the Brigand sternly. -“You’re ruinin’ the country.” - -“I do hope I remember all this when I wake up,” said the Toreador, -“it’s too priceless. But look here --if you don’t let me out I’ll -kick the door down. I’ve never starved anyone and I’ve never killed -anyone, and I----” - -[Illustration: “I SAY,” SAID THE TOREADOR, “IF YOU DON’T LET ME OUT -I’LL KICK THE DOOR DOWN.”] - -“We don’ want to argue,” said William remembering a frequent remark of -his father’s and trying to imitate his tone of voice, “but we’re not -goin’ to let you out till you promise to go out of England and never -come back.” - -[Illustration: “WE’RE NOT GOING TO LET YOU OUT,” SAID WILLIAM, “TILL -YOU PROMISE TO GO OUT OF ENGLAND, AND NEVER COME BACK.”] - -With that the Brigands turned and went slowly back to the house. The -sound of a mighty kick against the coach-house door followed them into -the night. - -“What we goin’ to do _now_,” said Ginger. - -“Oh, jus’ look round a bit,” said William. - -Again they went round the outside of the house passing by each open -window. Just inside one sat Henry V with a very demure Spring. - -“I can’t tell you what a difference it’s made to me getting to know -you----” Henry V was saying. - -By another a group of people stood around a--Yes--the Brigands rubbed -their eyes, but there he was--a Toreador. - -A tall angular Helen of Troy well past her first youth and quite -obviously never having possessed a face that could launch a thousand -ships, was sitting in the window recess with an emaciated Henry VIII. -“Look,” she was saying, “that Toreador’s Lord Merton--on the Cabinet -you know, quite important.” - -The Brigands gaped at each other. - -A few minutes later Helen of Troy looking down saw a small meek boy -dressed in a sort of pirate’s costume sitting by her. - -“Please,” he said politely, “Would you kin’ly tell me who that man in a -bull fighter’s dress is.” - -“That’s Lord Merton, dear,” said Helen of Troy kindly. “He’s in the -Cabinet. Do you know what that means?” - -“Then is there--are there two Toreadors?” - -“Yes. The other’s Mr. Jocelyn. He’s a writer, I believe. Nobody -important.” - -“We’ve took the wrong one,” said William in a hoarse whisper, as he -rejoined the Brigands, “There was two.” - -“Crumbs!” said the Brigands aghast. - -“What we goin’ to do _now_?” said Ginger. - -William was not one to relinquish a task half done. “We’ll have to put -this one in an’ let the other out,” he said. - -A few minutes later the Toreador came out on to the lawn smoking a -cigar. - -“If you please,” said a miniature Brigand, who seemed to rise up from -the ground at his feet, “Some one wants to see you special. He says -he’s a German with a message quite private. He doesn’t want anyone else -to know.” - -“Ha!” snorted the Toreador throwing away his cigar. “Show me, boy.” - -He followed William to the coach-house. The other Brigands came behind -athrill for whatever would happen. William flung open the door of the -coach-house. The second Toreador entered. The first Toreador, who had -by this time completely lost sight of any humorous aspect the affair -might previously have had in his eyes, and had worked himself up into -a blind fury, sprang upon the second Toreador as he entered and threw -him to the ground. The second Toreador pulled the first down with him, -and they fought fiercely in the dark upon the floor of the coach-house, -with inarticulate bellows of rage and rendings of clothes and hurling -of curses.... - - * * * * * - -Aghast, and apprehensive of consequences, the Brigands turned and went -quickly towards the house so as to be as far as possible from the scene -of the crime. - -But all was changed at the house. There was no dancing. The band was -mute. In the middle of the ballroom was a little heap of clothes, a -Page’s costume, an Ace of Clubs costume, a Gondolier’s costume, and a -Goat Herd’s costume, and over it stood four distraught mothers. Mrs. -Brown was almost hysterical. The guests stood in wondering groups -around. - -“The clothes have been found near the lake,” sobbed Mrs. Brown. - -“There’s no trace of them anywhere,” sobbed Ginger’s mother. - -“The grounds have been searched.” - -“They’re nowhere in the house.” - -“They must have taken off their clothes to swim.” - -“And they’re _drowned_.” - -“_Drowned._” - -“Now don’t take on,” said Mrs. Bott soothingly to the distraught -mothers, “don’t take on so, dearies. Botty’ll have the lake dragged at -once. There’s nothing to worry about.” - -The mothers went down to the lake followed by the whole assembly. The -Brigands, feeling that the situation had got far beyond their control, -followed cautiously in the rear keeping well in the shadow of the -bushes. - -It was bright moonlight. All the guests stood round the lake gazing -with mournful anticipation at its calm surface. The mothers clung to -each other sobbing. - -“He was always such a _good_ boy,” sobbed Mrs. Brown. “And he looked so -_sweet_ in his little blue suit.” - -Henry V, with one arm round Spring, was leaning over the lake and -vaguely fishing in it with a garden rake that he had picked up near by. -“You didn’t know him, of course,” he said to Spring, “but he was such a -dear little chap and so fond of me.” - -Then the Toreadors arrived, torn and battered and cobwebby and grimy. -“Where are they?” they panted as they ran. “We’ve been insulted. We’ve -been outraged. We’ve been _shamefully_ treated. We demand those boys. -We--_ah!_” - -They caught sight of four Brigands cowering behind the bushes, and -sprang at them. - -The Brigands fled from them towards the lake. Henry V and Spring -blocked William’s way. He pushed them on to one side, and both fell -with a splash into the lake. - -Then the guests and fate closed round the Brigands. - -In the scene of retribution that followed Robert showed himself -unsympathetic, even glorying in William’s afflictions.... For a whole -week after the fancy dress dance Robert repeatedly proclaimed that -William had spoilt his life again. - -“She’ll never look at me now, of course,” he said bitterly to his -mother. “How could she look at the brother of the boy who nearly -drowned her. And the only girl I’ve ever met who really understood me. -And her mother says she’s had a cold in her head ever since.” - -“What was her name? Glory something, wasn’t it, dear?” - -“No, Mother,” impatiently, “That’s a girl I knew ever so long ago, -and who never really understood me. This one----” William entered and -Robert stopped abruptly. - -“How do you like those new socks I made for you, dear?” said his mother -to William. “Are they all right?” - -William felt that his hour had come. He’d had a rotten time but he was -going to do just a little scoring on his own. - -“Yes,” said William slowly, “and just to think that this time last week -I didn’t know them. They’ve given an entirely new meaning to my life. -I shall give up all my life trying to be more worthy of them. I’ve -not got them on now because I don’t want them profaned by people who -don’ know or care about them----” Then William gave a little groan and -flopped into a chair in a fainting position. - -“_William_,” said Mrs. Brown, “What _ever’s_ the matter with you?” - -But Robert had gone a deep purple and was creeping quickly from the -room. - -William watched him, smoothing back his unsmoothable hair. - -“Oh, Glor!” he ejaculated softly. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE CAT AND THE MOUSE - - -William’s signal failure as a student of science was not due to any -lack of interest. It was due to excess of zeal rather than to lack of -zeal. William liked to experiment. He liked to experiment with his -experiments. He liked to put in one or two extra things and see what -happened. He liked to heat things when he was not told to heat them -just to see what happened. And strange things happened. On several -occasions William was deprived of his eyebrows and front hair. William -in this condition felt proud of himself. He felt that everyone who saw -him must imagine him to be the hero of some desperate adventure. He -cultivated a stern frown with his hairless eyebrows. Old Stinks the -Science Master rather liked William. He kept him in for hours in the -lab. after school washing up innumerable test tubes and cleaning the -benches as atonement for his unauthorised experiments; but he would -generally stay there himself, as well, smoking by the fire and drawing -from William his views on life in general. On more than one occasion he -gravely accepted from William the peace offering of a liquorice stick. -In spite of William’s really well-meant efforts, Old Stinks generally -had to re-wash all the test tubes and other implements when William had -gone. Occasionally he invited William to tea and sat fascinated at the -sight of the vast amount of nourishment that William’s frame seemed -able to assimilate. In return William lent him his original stories and -plays to read (for William rather fancied himself as an author and had -burnt much midnight candle over “The Hand of Deth” and “The Tru Story -of an Indian Brave”). It is not too much to say that “Stinks” enjoyed -these far more than he did many works of better known authors. - -But this term, Old Stinks, having foolishly contracted Scarlet Fever -on the last day of the holidays, was absent and his place was taken by -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay, an elegant young man with spats, very sleek hair -and a microscopic moustache. From the moment he first saw him William -felt that Mr. Evelyn Courtnay was the sort of man who would dislike -him intensely. His fears were not ill-founded. Mr. Courtnay disliked -William’s voice and William’s clothes and William’s appearance. He -disliked everything about William. It is only fair to add that this -dislike was heartily reciprocated by William. William, however, was -quite willing to lie low. It was Mr. Courtnay who opened the campaign. -He set William a hundred lines for overbalancing on his stool in an -attempt to regain a piece of his litmus paper that had been taken -with felonious intent by his vis-à-vis. When William expostulated he -increased it to three hundred. When William, turning back to his desk -and encountering a whiff of hydrochloric acid gas of his neighbour’s -manufacture, sneezed, he increased it to four hundred. Then came a -strange time for William. William had previously escaped scot free -for most of his crimes. Now to his amazement and indignation he found -himself in the unfamiliar position of a scapegoat. Any disturbance -in William’s part of the room was visited on William and quite -occasionally William was not guilty of it. Mr. Evelyn Courtnay, having -taken a dislike to William, gratified his dislike to the full. Most -people considered that this was very good for William, but it was a -view that was not shared by William himself. He wrote lines in most -of his spare time and made a thorough and systematic study of Mr. -Courtnay. Silently he studied his habits and his mode of life and his -character. He did this because he had a vague idea that Fate might some -day deliver his enemy into his hand. - -William rarely trusted Fate in vain.... He gleaned much of his -knowledge of the ways of Mr. Courtnay from Eliza, Mr. Courtnay’s maid -who occasionally spent the evening with Ellen, the Brown’s housemaid. - -“’Is aunt’s comin’ to dine wif ’im to-morrer night,” said Eliza one -evening. - -William, who was whittling sticks in the back garden near the open -kitchen door, put his penknife in his pocket, scowled and began to -listen. - -“Yes, it’s goin’ to be a set out an’ no mistake,” went on Eliza. “From -what I makes out ’e’s expectin’ of money from ’er an’--oh my! the -fuss--such a set out of a dinner an’ all! I can’t abide a young man -what fusses to the hextent ’e does. An’ ’e sez the larst time she ’ad -dinner wif ’im she seed a mouse an’ screamed the place down an’ went -orf in an ’uff so there’s got to be mousetraps down in the dining room -all night before she comes as well as all the hother fuss.” - -“Well, I never!” said Ellen. - -William took out his penknife and moved away in search of fresh sticks -to whittle. - -But he moved away thoughtfully. - - * * * * * - -The next morning William had a Science lesson. He was still thoughtful. -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay was jocular and facetious. In the course of a -few jocular remarks to the front row he said, “The feline species is -as abhorrent to me as it was to the great Napoleon. Contact with it -destroys my nerve entirely.” - -“What’s he mean?” whispered William to his neighbour. - -“He means he don’t like cats,” said William’s neighbour. - -“Well, why don’t he say so then?” said William scornfully. - -Someone near William dropped a test tube. Mr. Courtnay turned his -languid eye upon William. - -“A hundred lines, Brown,” he said pleasantly. - -“It wasn’t me what did it, sir,” said William indignantly. - -“Two hundred,” said Mr. Courtnay. - -“_Well!_” gasped William in outraged innocence. - -“Four hundred,” said Mr. Courtnay. - -William was too infuriated to reply. He angrily mixed two liquids from -the nearest bottles and heated them over his bunsen burner to relieve -his feelings. There was a loud report. William blinked and wiped -something warm off his face. His hand was bleeding from the broken -glass. - -Mr. Courtnay watched from a distance. - -“Six hundred,” he said as William took a bit of test tube from his -hair, “and to be done before Saturday, please.” - -“Don’t do ’em,” said Ginger as he walked homeward with William. - -“Yes,” said William bitterly, “an’ that means go to the Head an’ you -know what _that_ means.” - -“Well, Douglas ’n Henry ’n me’ll all help,” said Ginger. - -William’s countenance softened, then became sphinx-like. - -“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve thought of a better plan than that but thanks -all the same.” - - * * * * * - -William walked slowly down the road. One hand was in his pocket. The -other held a covered basket. He approached with a stern frown and -many cautious glances around him the house of Mr. Evelyn Courtnay. He -entered the back gate warily. His entry did not suggest the welcome -guest or even anyone who had the right of entry. There was something -distinctly furtive about it. He made his way round to the house by -the wall behind the bushes. He peeped in at the dining-room window. -The perspiring Eliza was engaged in putting the last touches to the -dining table. He peeped into the drawing-room window. There sat Mr. -Evelyn Courtnay in the most elegant of elegant dress suits, engaged in -the process of charming his aunt, Miss Felicia Courtnay. Miss Felicia -Courtnay was elderly and grim and not very susceptible to charm, but -her nephew was doing his best. Through the open window William could -hear plainly. - -[Illustration: “CATCH THE MOUSE,” SCREAMED MISS FELICIA. “GET DOWN AND -CATCH THAT MOUSE!”] - -“Oh yes, I get on splendidly, Aunt. I’m so fond of children--devoted to -them. In some ways, of course, teaching is a waste of my talents, but -on the whole--” - -It was here that William drew his hand from his pocket and noiselessly -deposited something on the floor through the open window. The -something scuttled along the floor by the skirting board. William -withdrew into the shadow. Suddenly a piercing scream came from within. - -[Illustration: MR. EVELYN COURTNAY SPRANG UP WITH A YELL AND LEAPT UPON -THE GRAND PIANO. “THE BRUTE TOUCHED ME!” HE SHOUTED.] - -“It’s a _mouse_, Evelyn! Help! _Help! HELP!_” - -More screams followed. - -William peeped in at the window and enjoyed the diverting spectacle -of Miss Felicia Courtnay standing on a chair holding up her skirts -and screaming, and of Mr. Evelyn Courtnay on his knees with the poker -in one hand, trying to reach the mouse who had taken refuge beneath a -very low sofa. It was at that moment that William took Terence from the -basket and deposited him upon the floor. Now Terence, William’s cat, -though he disliked William intensely, was of a sociable disposition. He -found himself in a strange room with a fire upon the hearth. He liked -fires. He did not like the basket in which he had just made his journey -with William. He did not wish to go in the basket again. He wished to -stay in the room. He decided that the best policy was to make up to the -occupants of the room in the hopes that they would allow him to sit on -the hearthrug in front of the fire. He approached the only occupant he -could see. Terence may have known that there was a mouse in the room or -he may not. He was not interested. He was a lover of comfort only. He -was no mouser. - -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay, who was now lying at full length on the floor -trying to look beneath the low sofa, felt suddenly something soft and -warm and furry and purring rub itself hard against his face. He sprang -up with a yell and leapt upon the grand piano. - -“The brute!” he screamed. “The brute! It _touched_ me.” - -The episode seemed to have driven him into a state closely bordering on -lunacy. - -William’s cat purred ingratiatingly at the foot of the grand piano. - -“Catch the mouse!” screamed Miss Felicia Courtnay. “Get down and catch -the mouse!” - -“I can’t while that brute’s in the room,” screamed Mr. Evelyn Courtnay -from the grand piano. “I can’t--I tell you. I can’t bear ’em. It -_touched_ me!” - -“You _coward!_ I’m going to faint in a minute.” - -“So am I, I tell you. I can’t get down. It’s looking at me.” - -“I shall never forget this--_never!_ You -_brute_--you--you--_tyrant_----” - -“I shan’t either. Go away, you nasty beast, go _away!_” - -At that moment two things happened. The mouse put its little whiskered -head out of its retreat to reconnoitre and Terence, determined to make -friends with this new and strange acquaintance, leapt upon the grand -piano on to the very top of Mr. Evelyn Courtnay. Two screams rent the -air--one a fine soprano, one a fine tenor. - -“I can see it. Oh, this will _kill_ me!” - -“Get _down_, you brute. Get _down!_” - -At this critical moment William entered like a _deus ex machina_. He -swooped down upon the mouse before it realised what was happening, -caught it by its tail and dropped it through the open window. Then he -picked up Terence and did the same with him. Miss Felicia Courtnay, -tearful and trembling, descended from her chair and literally fell upon -William’s neck. - -“Oh you _brave_ boy!” she sobbed. “You _brave_ boy! What _should_ I -have done without you?” - -“I happened to see you through the window trying to catch the mouse,” -said William, looking at her with an inscrutable expression and wide -innocent eyes, “an’ I di’n’ want to disturb you by comin’ in myself so -I just put the cat in an’ when I saw that wasn’t no good I jus’ come in -myself.” - -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay had descended hastily from his grand piano and was -smoothing his hair with both hands and glaring at William. - -“Thank the dear little boy, Evelyn,” said Miss Felicia giving her -nephew a cold glance. “I don’t know what I should have done without his -protection. He practically saved my life.” - -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay glared still more ferociously at William and -muttered threateningly. - -“A little child rushing in where grown men fear to tread,” misquoted -Miss Felicia sententiously, still beaming fondly at William. “He must -certainly stay to dinner after that.” - -Mr. Evelyn Courtnay, to his fury, had to provide William with a large -meal to which William did full justice, munching in silence except when -Miss Felicia’s remarks demanded an answer. Miss Felicia ignored her -nephew and talked with fond and grateful affection to William only. It -was William who volunteered the information that her nephew taught him -Science. - -“I hope he’s kind to you,” said Miss Felicia. - -William gave her a pathetic glance like one who wishes to avoid a dark -and painful subject. - -“I--I expect he means to be,” he said sadly. - -William departed immediately after dinner. He seldom risked an -anticlimax. He possessed the artistic instinct. Mr. Evelyn Courtnay -accompanied him to the door. - -“No need to talk of this, my boy,” said Mr. Courtnay with elaborate -nonchalance. - -William made no answer. - -“And no need to do those lines,” said Mr. Courtnay. - -“Thank you,” said William. “Good-night.” - -He walked briskly down the road. He’d enjoyed the evening. Its only -drawback was that he could never tell anyone about it. For William, -with all his faults, was a sportsman. - -But he’d scored! He’d scored! He’d scored! - -And Old Stinks was coming back next week! - -Unable to restrain his feelings, William turned head over heels in the -road. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WILLIAM AND UNCLE GEORGE - - -It was William who bought the horn-rimmed spectacles. He bought them -for sixpence from a boy who had bought them for a shilling from a boy -to whose dead aunt’s cousin’s grandfather they had belonged. - -William was intensely proud of them. He wore them in school all the -morning. They made everything look vague and blurred, but he bore that -inconvenience gladly for the sake of the prestige they lent him. - -Ginger borrowed them for the afternoon and got all his sums wrong -because he could not see the figures, but that was a trifling matter -compared with the joy of wearing horn-rimmed spectacles. Douglas bagged -them for the next day and Henry for the day after that. William had -many humble requests for the loan of them from other boys which he -coldly refused. The horn-rimmed spectacles were to be the badge of -superiority of the Outlaws. - -On the third day one of the masters who discovered that the horn-rimmed -spectacles were the common property of William and his boon companions -and were, optically speaking, unnecessary, forbade their future -appearance in school. The Outlaws then wore them in turn on the way to -school and between lessons. - -“My father,” said Douglas proudly, as he and William and Ginger -strolled through the village together, “’s got a pair of spectacles -an’s gotter wear ’em _always_.” - -“Not like these,” objected William who was wearing the horn-rimmed -spectacles. “Not great thick ’uns like these.” - -“Well, anyway,” said Ginger. “I’ve gotter aunt what’s got false teeth.” - -“That’s nothin’,” said William. “False teeth isn’t like spectacles. -They look just like ornery teeth. You can’t _see_ they’re false teeth.” - -“No, but you can _hear_ ’em,” said Ginger. “They tick.” - -“Well, anyway,” said Douglas, “my cousin knows a man what’s gotter -false eye. It stays still while the other looks about.” - -“Well,” said William determined not to be outdone, “my father knows a -man what’s gotter false leg.” - -“I think I remember once hearin’,” said Ginger somewhat vaguely, “’bout -a man with all false arms an’ legs an’ only his body real.” - -“That’s nothin’,” said William giving rein to his glorious imagination. -“I once heard of a man with a false body an’ only legs an’ arms reel.” - -His companions’ united yell of derision intimated to him that he had -overstepped the bounds of credulity, and adjusting his horn-rimmed -spectacles with a careless flourish he continued unperturbed, “Or I -might have dreamed about him. I don’ _quite_ remember which.” - -“I bet you _dreamed_ about him,” said Ginger indignantly. “I bet it -isn’t _possible_. How’d his stomach work ’f he hadn’t gotter real one?” - -“An’ I bet it _is_ possible,” said William stoutly. “It’d work with -machinery an’ wheels an’ springs an’ things same as a clock works an’ -he’d hafter wind it up every mornin’.” - -The other Outlaws were impressed by William’s tone of certainty. - -“Well,” said Ginger guardedly, “I don’ say it isn’t _possible_. I only -say it isn’t _prob’le_.” - -The vast knowledge of the resources of the English language displayed -by this remark vaguely depressed the others, and they dropped the -subject hastily. - -“I can walk like a man with a false leg,” said William, and he began to -walk along, swinging one stiff leg with a flourish. - -“Well, I can click my teeth ’s if they was false,” said Ginger, and -proceeded to bite the air vigorously. - -“I bet I can look ’s if I had a glass eye,” said Douglas, making -valiant if unsuccessful efforts to keep one eye still and roll the -other. - -They walked on in silence, each of them wholly and frowningly absorbed -in his task, William limping stiffly, Ginger clicking valiantly, and -Douglas rolling his eyes. - -A little short-sighted man who met them stopped still and stared in -amazement. - -“Dear me!” he said. - -“I’ve gotter false leg,” William condescended to explain, “and _he_,” -indicating Douglas, “’s gotter glass eye, an’ _he’s_ got false teeth.” - -“Dear me!” gasped the little old man. “How very extraordinary!” - -They left him staring after them.... - -Douglas, wildly cross-eyed, set off at the turning to his home. He was -labouring under the delusion that he had at last acquired the knack of -keeping one eye still while he rolled the other, though William and -Ginger informed him repeatedly that he was mistaken. - -“They’re _both_ movin’.” - -“They’re _not_, I tell you. One’s keepin’ still. I can feel it keepin’ -still.” - -“Well, we can _see_ it, can’t we? We oughter know.” - -“I don’ care what you can _see_. I know what I _do_, don’ I? It’s _my_ -eye an’ I move it an’ _I_ oughter be able to tell when I’m _not_ movin’ -it.... So _there!_” - -He rolled both eyes at them fiercely as he departed. - -William and Ginger went on together, stumping and clicking with great -determination. Suddenly they both stopped. - -On the footpath just outside a door that opened straight on to the -street, stood a bath-chair. In it were a rug and a scarf. - -“Here’s my bath-chair,” said William. “’S tirin’ walkin’ like this with -a false leg all the time.” - -He sat down in the chair with such a jerk that his horn-rimmed -spectacles fell off. Though it was somewhat of a relief to see the -world clearly, he missed the air of distinction that he imagined they -imparted to him and, picking them up, adjusted them carefully on -his nose. The sensation of being the possessor of both horn-rimmed -spectacles and a false leg had been a proud and happy one. He wrapped -the rug around his knees. - -“You’d better push me a bit,” he said to Ginger. “’S not tirin’ havin’ -false teeth. You oughter be the one to push.” - -But Ginger, unlike William, was not quite lost in his rôle. - -“It’s not our bath-chair. Someone’ll be comin’ out an’ makin’ a fuss if -we start playin’ with it. Besides,” with some indignation, “how d’you -know havin’ false teeth isn’t tirin’? Ever tried ’em? An’ let me _tell_ -you clickin’ _is_ tirin’. It’s makin’ my jaws ache somethin’ terrible.” - -“Oh, come on!” said William impatiently, “do stop talkin’ about your -false teeth. Anyway it couldn’t rest your _jaws_ ridin’ in a _chair_, -could it? A _chair_ couldn’t rest your jaw _or_ your teeth, could it? -Well, it _could_ rest my false leg an’, anyway, we’ll only go a bit -an’ whosever it is won’t miss it before we bring it back, an’ anyway I -don’t suppose they mind lendin’ it to help a pore ole man with a false -leg an’ another with false teeth.” - -“Not much helpin’ _me_ pushin’ _you!_” said Ginger bitterly. - -“Your false teeth seems to be makin’ you very grumpy!” said William -severely. “Oh, come on! They’ll be comin’ out soon.” - -Ginger began to push the bath-chair at first reluctantly, but finally -warmed to his task. He tore along at a break-neck speed. William’s -face was wreathed in blissful smiles. He held the precious horn-rimmed -spectacles in place with one hand and with the other clutched on to -the side of the bath-chair, which swayed wildly as Ginger pursued his -lightning and uneven way. They stopped for breath at the end of the -street. - -“You’re a jolly good pusher!” said William. - -Praise from William was rare. Ginger, in spite of his breathlessness, -looked pleased. - -“Oh, that’s nothin’,” he said modestly. “I could do it ten times as -fast as that. I’m a bit tired of false teeth though. I’m goin’ to stop -clickin’ for a bit.” - -William tucked in his rug and adjusted his spectacles again. - -“Do I look like a pore old man?” he said proudly. - -Ginger gave a scornful laugh. - -“No, you don’t. You’ve gotter boy’s face. You’ve got no lines nor -whiskers nor screwedupness like an old man.” - -William drew his mouth down and screwed up his eyes into a hideous -contortion. - -“Do I now?” he said as clearly as he could through his distorted mask -of twisted muscles. - -Ginger looked at him dispassionately. - -“You look like a kinder monkey now,” he said. - -William took the long knitted scarf that was at the bottom of the -bath-chair and wound it round and round his head and face till only -his horn-rimmed spectacles could be seen. - -“Do I now?” he said in a muffled voice. - -Ginger stared at him in critical silence for a minute and said: - -“Yes, you do now. At least you look’s if you might be _anything_ now.” - -“All right,” said William in his far-away muffled voice. “Pretend I’m -an old man. Wheel me back now ... _slowly_, mind! ’cause I’m an old -man.” - -They began the return journey. Ginger walked very slowly, chiefly -because it was uphill and he was still out of breath. William leant -back feebly in his chair enjoying the rôle of aged invalid, his -horn-rimmed spectacles peering out with an air of deep wisdom from a -waste of woollen muffler. - -Suddenly a woman who was passing stopped. - -“Uncle George!” she said in a tone of welcome and surprise. - -She was tall and thin and grey-haired and skittish-looking and gaily -dressed. - - * * * * * - -“Well, this _is_ a pleasant surprise,” she said. “When you didn’t -answer our letter we thought you really weren’t going to come to see -us. We really did. And now I find you on your way to our house. _What_ -a treat for us! I’d have known you anywhere, _dear_ Uncle George, even -if I hadn’t recognised the bath-chair and the muffler that I knitted -for you on your last birthday. How _sweet_ of you to wear it! And -you’re looking _so_ well!” She dropped a vague kiss upon the woollen -muffler and then turned to Ginger. “This little boy can go. I can take -you on to the house.” She slipped a coin into Ginger’s hand. “Now run -away, little boy! I’ll look after him.” - -Ginger, after one bewildered look, fled, and the lady began to push -William’s chair along briskly. William was so entirely taken aback -that he could for the moment devise no plan of action, and meekly -allowed himself to be propelled down the village street. With an -instinctive desire to conceal his identity he had pulled the rug up to -his elbows and arranged the flowing ends of the all-enveloping scarf to -cover the front of his coat. Wistfully he watched Ginger’s figure which -was fast disappearing in the distance. Then the tall female bent down -and shouted into his ear. - -“And how _are_ you, dear Uncle George?” - -William looked desperately round for some chance of escape, but saw -none. Feeling that some reply was necessary, and not wishing to let his -voice betray him he growled. - -“_So_ glad,” yelled the tall lady into the muffler. “_So_ glad. If you -_think_ you’re better, you _will_ be better you know, as I always used -to tell you.” - -To his horror, William saw that he was being taken in through a large -gateway and up a drive. He felt as though he had been captured by some -terrible enemy. Would he ever escape? What would the dreadful woman do -to him when she found out? He couldn’t breathe, and he could hardly -see, and he didn’t know what was going to happen to him.... He growled -again rather ferociously, and she leant down to the presumptive region -of his ear and shouted. - -“_Much_ better, dear Uncle George!... _Ever_ so much better ... it’s -only a question of _will_ power.” - -She left him on a small lawn and went through an opening in the box -hedge. William could hear her talking to some people on the other side. - -“He’s _come!_ Uncle George’s _come!_” she said in a penetrating whisper. - -“Oh, _dear!_” said another voice. “He’s _so_ trying! What shall we do?” - -“He’s _wealthy_. Anyway we may as well try to placate him a bit.” - -“Hush! He’ll hear you.” - -“Oh, no, he’s been as deaf as a post for years.” - -“How did you meet him, Frederica, darling?” - -“I met him _quite_ by accident,” said Frederica darling in her shrill -and cheerful voice. “He was being brought here by a boy.” - -“And did you recognise him? It’s ten years since you saw him last.” - -“I recognised the bath-chair. It’s the one poor, dear Aunt Ferdinanda -used to have, and the darling was wearing that scarf I knitted for -him. Oh, but I think I’d have recognised the old man anyway. He hasn’t -changed a bit; though he’s dreadfully muffled up. You know he was -always so frightened of fresh air ... and he’s shrunk a bit, I think -... you know, old people do--and I’m afraid he’s as touchy as ever. He -was _quite_ huffy on the way here because I said that if he’d _will_ to -be well he _would_ be well. That always annoyed him, but I must be true -to my principles, mustn’t I?” - -“Hadn’t someone better go to him? Won’t it annoy him to be left alone?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. He’s not sociable, you know--and as deaf as a post -and----” - -“Perhaps you’d better explain to the boys, Frederica----” - -“Oh, _yes!_ It’s your great Uncle George, you know--_ever_ so old, -and we’ve not seen him for _ten_ years, and he’s just come to live -here with his _male_ attendant, you know--taken a furnished house, -and though we asked him to come to see us (he’s most _eccentric_, -you know--simply won’t see _anyone_ at his own house) he never even -answered and we thought he must be still annoyed. I told him the last -time I saw him, ten years ago, that if only he’d think he could walk, -he’d be _able_ to walk, and it annoyed him, but I must be true to my -principles--anyway to my surprise I found him on his _way_ to our house -this afternoon and----” - -Frederica paused for breath. - -“We’d better go to him, dear. He might be feeling lonely.” - - * * * * * - -William was far from lonely. He was listening with mingled interest and -apprehension to the conversation on the other side of the hedge and -revolving in his mind the question whether they’d see him if he crawled -across the lawn to the gate--or perhaps it would be better to make a -dash for it, tear off the rug and muffler and run for all he was worth -to the gate and down the road. - -He had almost decided to do that when they all suddenly appeared -through the opening in the hedge. William gave a gasp as he saw -them. First came Frederica--the tall and agile lady who had captured -him--next a very old lady with a Roman nose, and expression of grim -determination and a pair of lorgnettes--next came a young curate--next -a muscular young man in a college blazer, and last a little girl. - -William knew the little girl. - -Her name was Emmeline, and she went to the same school as William--and -William detested her. William now allowed himself the slight -satisfaction of putting out his tongue at her beneath his expanse of -muffler. - -But his heart sank as they surrounded him. They all surveyed him with -the greatest interest. He looked about desperately once more for some -way of escape, but his opportunity had gone. Like the psalmist’s -enemies, they closed him in on every side. Nervously he pulled up -his rug, spread out his muffler and crouched yet further down in his -bath-chair. - -[Illustration: “YOU REMEMBER MOTHER, DEAR UNCLE GEORGE, DON’T YOU?” -FREDERICA SCREAMED INTO THE MUFFLER. - -WILLIAM MERELY GROWLED.] - -“You remember Mother, dear Uncle George, don’t you?” screamed Frederica -into the muffler. - -The dignified dame raised the lorgnettes and held out a majestic hand. -William merely growled. He was beginning to find the growl effective. -They all hastily took a step back. - -“Sulking!” explained Frederica in her penetrating whisper. “_Sulking!_ -Just because I told him on the way here that if he _willed_ to be well -he _would_ be well. It always annoyed him, but I must be true to my -principles, mustn’t I?--even if it makes him _sulk_--even if he cuts me -out of his will I must----” - -[Illustration: THEY ALL SURVEYED THE OCCUPANT OF THE BATH-CHAIR WITH -GREAT INTEREST.] - -“Hush, Frederica! He’ll hear you!” - -“No, dear, he’s almost stone deaf.” - -She leant down again to his ear. - -“Is your DEAFNESS any better, Uncle George?” she screamed. - -She seemed to regard Uncle George as her own special property. - -William growled again. - -The circle drew another step farther back. The old lady looked anxious. - -“I’m afraid he’s ill,” she said. “I hope it’s nothing infectious! -James, I think you’d better examine him.” - -Frederica drew one of the bashful and unwilling young men forward. - -“This is your great-nephew, James,” she shouted. “DEAR Uncle George. -He’s a MEDICAL STUDENT, and he’d SO love to talk to you.” - -The rest withdrew to the other end of the lawn and watched proceedings -from a distance. It would be difficult to say whether James or William -felt the more desperate. - -“Er--how are you, Uncle George,” said James politely, then, remembering -Uncle George’s deafness, changed his soft bass to a shrill tenor. “HOW -ARE YOU?” - -William did not answer. He was wondering how long it would be before -one of them tore off his rug and muffler, and horn-rimmed spectacles, -and hoping that it would not be either of the young men who would -administer punishment. - -“Er--may I--er--feel your pulse?” went on James, then remembered and -yelled “PULSE.” - -William sat on his hands and growled. James mopped his brow. - -“If I could see your tongue--er--TONGUE--you seem to be in -pain--perhaps--TONGUE--allow me.” - -He took hold of the muffler about William’s head. William gave a sudden -shake and a fierce growl and James started back as though he had been -bitten. William was certainly perfecting the growl. - -It was gaining a note of savage, almost blood-curdling ferocity. James -gazed at him apprehensively, then, as another growl began to arise from -the depth of William’s chair, hastily rejoined the others. - -“I’ve--er--examined him,” he said, making a gesture as though to loosen -his collar, and still gazing apprehensively in the direction of Uncle -George. “I’ve--er--examined him. There’s nothing--er--fundamentally -wrong with him. He’s just--er--got a foul temper, that’s all.” - -“It is a case for you, then, I think, Jonathan,” said the old lady -grimly. - -Frederica drew the second reluctant youth across the lawn. - -“This is your great-nephew Jonathan,” she yelled into the muffler. -“He’s in the CHURCH. He’s looking forward SO much to a TALK with you, -DEAR Uncle George.” - -With a sprightly nod at the horn-rimmed spectacles, she departed. -Jonathan smiled mirthlessly. Then he proceeded to shout at William with -_sotto voce_ interjections. - -“GOOD AFTERNOON, UNCLE GEORGE--confound you--WE’RE SO GLAD TO -SEE YOU--don’t think--WE EXPECT TO SEE A LOT OF YOU NOW--worse -luck--WE WANT TO BE A HAPPY, UNITED FAMILY--you crusty old mummy--WE -HOPE--er--WE HOPE--er----” - -He couldn’t think what else to hope, so, purple with the effort of -shouting, he stopped for breath. William, who was enjoying this part, -chuckled. Jonathan with a sigh of relief departed. He went to the -others who were watching expectantly. - -“It’s all right,” he said airily. “The old chap’s quite good-tempered -now--my few words seemed to hit the spot.” - -William watched the group, wondering what was going to be done next and -who was going to do it. He hardly dared move in case his spectacles or -muffler or rug fell off and revealed him to the cold light of day. He -felt instinctively that the cold light of day would have little pity on -him. - -Then he saw two maids come round the house to the lawn. One carried a -table and the other a tray on which were some cakes that made William’s -mouth water. Would he--Oh, would he have to sit fasting and watch these -unworthy people eat those glorious cakes and, Oh, scrummy!--there was a -bowl of fruit salad. Surely---- - -Oh, surely he deserved a bit of food after all he’d been through. His -eyes shone eagerly and hungrily through his horn-rimmed spectacles--if -he just undid his muffler enough to eat a bit of fruit salad--and that -chocolate cake--_and_ the one with green icing--Oh, _and_ that one with -nuts on the top--surely eating just a little like that wouldn’t give -him away. He couldn’t starve for ever. - -And what was going to happen to him, anyway--he couldn’t stay all his -life in a bath-chair in that garden starving and growling at people--he -was jolly sick of it already, but he didn’t know what to do--they’d -have to find out sometime--and he didn’t know what they’d do when -they did find out--and he was sick of the whole thing--and it was all -Ginger’s fault going off and leaving him and-- He looked across the -lawn at them. His gaze through the horn-rimmed spectacles was wistful. - -To his horror he saw Emmeline being launched across the lawn to him by -Frederica. Emmeline wore a super-sweet expression and carried in her -hand a bunch of roses. She laid them on the bath-chair with an artless -and confiding smile. - -“Dear, Great great Uncle George,” she said in her squeaky little voice. -“We’re all so glad to see you and love you so much an’----” - -The elders were watching the tableau with proud smiles, and William -was summoning his breath for a really ferocious growl when suddenly -everyone turned round. A little old man, purple with anger, had -appeared running up the drive. - - * * * * * - -“Where is he?” screamed the little old man in fury. “They said he came -in here--my bath-chair--where is he?--the thief--the blackguard--how -dare he?--I’ll teach him--where is he?” - -William did not wait to be taught. With admirable presence of mind he -tore off his wrappings, flung away his horn spectacles, and dashed with -all his might through the opening in the hedge and across the back -lawn. The little old man caught up a trowel that the gardener had left -near a bed and flung it after William. It caught him neatly on the -ankle and changed his swift flight to a limp. - -“Dear Uncle George,” cooed Frederica to the old man. “I don’t know -what’s happened, but I _always_ said you could walk quite well if you -liked.” - -With a howl of fury the old man turned on her, snatched up the bowl of -fruit salad and emptied it over her. - -Meanwhile the muscular young medical student had overtaken William -just as he was disappearing through the gate and in spite of William’s -struggles was administering fairly adequate physical correction.... -Occasionally Nemesis did overtake William. - - * * * * * - -The next day William met Ginger on the way to school. - -“Well, _you’re_ brave, aren’t you?” he said sarcastically, “goin’ off -an’ leavin’ me an’ not rescuin’ me nor nothin’.” - -“I like that,” said Ginger indignantly. “What could I do, I’d like to -know. You _would_ ride an’ me push. ’F you’d bin unselfish an’ pushed -an’ me rode _you’d_ ’ve got off.” - -This was unanswerable, but while William was trying to think out an -answer Ginger said scornfully: - -“You still practisin’ havin’ a false leg? I stopped clickin’ ever so -long ago. I should think you was tired of that old game.” - -“Well, I’m _not!_” said William with great self-possession. “I’m goin’ -to go on sometime yet jus’ to show I _can_.” - -Just then Emmeline appeared on the road, wearing the horn-rimmed -spectacles. - -“I say, those is ours!” said Ginger. - -“Oh, _no!_” said Emmeline with a shrill triumphant laugh. “I found them -on our front lawn. They’re _mine_ now. You ask William Brown _how_ I -found them on our front lawn. But they’re _mine_ now. So there!” - -For a moment William was nonplussed. Then a beatific smile overspread -his freckled face. - -“Dear great great Uncle George!” he mimicked in a shrill falsetto. -“We’re all so glad to see you--we love you so much.” - -Emmeline gave a howl of anger and ran down the road holding her -horn-rimmed spectacles on as she ran. - -“Boo-hoo!” she sobbed. “_Nasty_ William Brown! Comin’ into our garden -an’ breathin’ our air an’ runnin’ over our beds an’ makin’ Uncle George -cross an’ wastin’ our fruit salad an’ bein’ nasty to me--_Nasty_ -William Brown--they’re my spectacles, they is--Boo-hoo!” - -“I say, what happened yesterday?” said Ginger when she had disappeared. - -“Oh, I almost forget,” said William evasively. “I growled at ’em an’ -scared ’em no end an’ I didn’t get any tea an’ he threw somethin’ at -me--Oh, a lot of things like that--I almost forget--But,” with sudden -interest, “how much did she give you?” - -“Sixpence,” said Ginger proudly, taking it out of his pocket. - -“Come on!” said William joyfully, giving a cheerful little limp -forward. “Come on an’ let’s spend it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -WILLIAM AND SAINT VALENTINE - - -William was, as not infrequently, under a cloud. His mother had gone -to put some socks into one of his bedroom drawers and had found that -most of the drawer space was occupied by insects of various kinds, -including a large stag beetle, and that along the side of the drawer -was their larder, consisting of crumby bits of bread and a little pool -of marmalade. - -“But it _eats_ marmalade,” pleaded William. “The stag beetle does. I -know it does. The marmalade gets a little less every day.” - -“Because it’s soaking into the wood,” said Mrs. Brown sternly. -“_That’s_ why. I don’t know why you _do_ such things, William!” - -“But they’re doing no harm,” said William. “They’re _friends_ of mine. -They _know_ me. The stag beetle does anyway and the others will soon. -I’m teaching the stag beetle tricks.... _Honest_, it knows me and it -knows its name. Call ‘Albert’ to it and see if it moves.” - -“I shall do nothing of the sort, William. Take the creatures out at -once. I shall have to scrub the drawers and have everything washed. -You’ve got marmalade and crumbs all over your socks and handkerchiefs.” - -“Well, I moved ’em right away when I put them in. They’ve sort of -spread back.” - -“Why ever didn’t you keep the things outside?” - -“I wanted to have ’em and play with ’em at nights an’ mornin’s.” - -“And here’s one of them _dead!_” - -“I hope it didn’t die of anythin’ catchin’,” said William anxiously. “I -shun’t like Albert to get anythin’. There’s no _reason_ for ’em to die. -They’ve got plenty of food an’ plenty of room to play about in an’ air -gets in through the keyhole.” - -“Take them _away!_” - -William lovingly gathered up his stag beetle and woodlice and -centipedes and earwigs and took them downstairs, leaving his mother -groaning over the crumby marmalady drawer.... - -He put them into cardboard boxes and punched holes in the tops. He put -Albert, the gem of the collection, in a small box in his pocket. - -Then it began to rain and he came back to the house. - -There was nothing to do.... - -He wandered from room to room. No one was in. The only sounds were -the sounds of the rain and of his mother furiously scrubbing at the -drawer upstairs. He wandered into the kitchen. It was empty. On the -table by the window was a row of jam jars freshly filled and covered. -His mother had made jam that morning. William stood by the table, half -sprawling over it, resting his head on his hands and watched the rain -disconsolately. There was a small knife on the table. William took -it up and, still watching the rain, absent-mindedly “nicked” in all -the taut parchment covers one by one. He was thinking of Albert. As -he nicked in the parchment, he was vaguely conscious of a pleasant -sensation like walking through heaped-up fallen leaves or popping -fuschia buds or breaking ice or treading on nice fat acorns.... He was -vaguely sorry when the last one was “nicked.” - -Then his mother came in. - -“_William!_” she screamed as she saw the jam jars. - -“What’ve I done now?” said William innocently. “Oh ... those! I jus’ -wasn’t thinking what I was doin’. Sorry!” - -Mrs. Brown sat down weakly on a kitchen chair. - -“I don’t think anyone ever had a boy like you ever before William,” she -said with deep emotion. “The work of _hours_.... And it’s _after_ time -for you to get ready for Miss Lomas’ class. Do go, and then perhaps -I’ll get a little peace!” - - * * * * * - -Miss Lomas lived at the other end of the village. She held a Bible -class for the Sons and Daughters of Gentlefolk every Saturday -afternoon. She did it entirely out of the goodness of her heart, -and she had more than once regretted the goodness of her heart -since that Son of Gentlefolk known to the world as William Brown -had joined her class. She had worked hard to persuade Mrs. Brown to -send him. She thought that she could influence William for good. She -realised when William became a regular attendant of her class that -she had considerably over-estimated her powers. William could only be -persuaded to join the class because most of his friends, not without -much exertion of maternal authority, went there every Saturday. But -something seemed to have happened to the class since William joined it. -The beautiful atmosphere was destroyed. No beautiful atmosphere was -proof against William. Every Saturday Miss Lomas hoped that something -would have happened to William so that he could not come, and every -Saturday William hoped equally fervently that something would have -happened to Miss Lomas so that she could not take the class. There was -something dispirited and hopeless in their greeting of each other.... - -William took his seat in the dining-room where Miss Lomas always held -her class. He glanced round at his fellow students, greeting his -friends Ginger and Henry and Douglas with a hideous contortion of his -face.... - -Then he took a large nut out of his pocket and cracked it with his -teeth. - -“_Not_ in here, William,” said Miss Lomas faintly. - -“I was goin’ to put the bits of shell into my pocket,” said William. -“I wasn’t goin’ to put ’em on your carpet or anything, but ’f you -don’t want me to’s all right,” he said obligingly, putting nut and -dismembered shell into his pocket. - -“Now we’ll say our verses,” said Miss Lomas brightly but keeping a -fascinated apprehensive eye on William. “William, you begin.” - -“’Fraid I din’t learn ’em,” said William very politely. “I was goin’ -to last night an’ I got out my Bible an’ I got readin’ ’bout Jonah in -the whale’s belly an’ I thought maybe it’d do me more good than St. -Stephen’s speech an’ it was ever so much more int’restin’.” - -“That will do, William,” said Miss Lomas. “We’ll--er--all take our -verses for granted this afternoon, I think. Now, I want to give you a -little talk on Brotherly Love.” - -“Who’s Saint Valentine?” said William who was burrowing in his -prayer-book. - -“Why, William?” said Miss Lomas patiently. - -“Well, his day seems to be comin’ this month,” said William. - -Miss Lomas, with a good deal of confusion, launched into a not very -clear account of the institution of Saint Valentine’s Day. - -“Well, I don’t think much of _him_ ’s a saint,” was William’s verdict, -as he took out another nut and absent-mindedly cracked it, “writin’ -soppy letters to girls instead of gettin’ martyred prop’ly like Peter -an’ the others.” - -Miss Lomas put her hand to her head. - -“You misunderstand me, William,” she said. “What I meant to say was-- -Well, suppose we leave Saint Valentine till later, and have our little -talk on Brotherly Love first.... _Ow-w-w!_” - -Albert’s box had been accidentally opened in William’s pocket, and -Albert was now discovered taking a voyage of discovery up Miss Lomas’ -jumper. Miss Lomas’ spectacles fell off. She tore off Albert and rushed -from the room. - -William gathered up Albert and carefully examined him. “She might have -hurt him, throwing him about like that,” he said sternly. “She oughter -be more careful.” - -Then he replaced Albert tenderly in his box. - -“Give us a nut,” said Ginger. - -Soon all the Sons and Daughters of Gentlefolk were cracking nuts, and -William was regaling them with a racy account of Jonah in the whale’s -belly, and trying to entice Albert to show off his tricks.... - -“Seems to me,” said William at last thoughtfully, looking round the -room, “we might get up a good game in this room ... something sort of -quiet, I mean, jus’ till she comes back.” - -But the room was mercifully spared one of William’s “quiet” games by -the entrance of Miss Dobson, Miss Lomas’ cousin, who was staying with -her. Miss Dobson was very young and very pretty. She had short golden -curls and blue eyes and small white teeth and an attractive smile. - -“My cousin’s not well enough to finish the lesson,” she said. “So -I’m going to read to you till it’s time to go home. Now, let’s be -comfortable. Come and sit on the hearthrug. That’s right. I’m going to -read to you ‘Scalped by the Reds.’” - -William drew a deep breath of delight. - -At the end of the first chapter he had decided that he wouldn’t mind -coming to this sort of Bible class every day. - -At the end of the second he had decided to marry Miss Dobson as soon as -he grew up.... - - * * * * * - -When William woke up the next morning his determination to marry -Miss Dobson was unchanged. He had previously agreed quite informally -to marry Joan Crewe, his friend and playmate and adorer, but Joan -was small and dark-haired and rather silent. She was not gloriously -grown-up and tall and fair and vivacious. William was aware that -marriage must be preceded by courtship, and that courtship was an -arduous business. It was not for nothing that William had a sister who -was acknowledged to be the beauty of the neighbourhood, and a brother -who was generally involved in a passionate if short-lived _affaire -d’amour_. William had ample opportunities of learning how it was done. -So far he had wasted these opportunities or only used them in a spirit -of mockery and ridicule, but now he determined to use them seriously -and to the full. - -He went to the garden shed directly after breakfast and discovered that -he had made the holes in his cardboard boxes rather too large and the -inmates had all escaped during the night. It was a blow, but William -had more serious business on hand than collecting insects. And he -still had Albert. He put his face down to where he imagined Albert’s -ear to be and yelled “Albert” with all the force of his lungs. Albert -moved--in fact scuttled wildly up the side of his box. - -“Well, he cert’n’ly knows his name now,” said William with a sigh of -satisfaction. “It’s took enough trouble to teach him that. I’ll go on -with tricks now.” - -He went to school after that. Albert accompanied him, but was -confiscated by the French master just as William and Ginger were -teaching it a trick. The trick was to climb over a pencil, and Albert, -who was labouring under a delusion that freedom lay beyond the pencil, -was picking it up surprisingly well. William handed him to the French -master shut up in his box, and was slightly comforted for his loss by -seeing the master on opening it get his fingers covered with Albert’s -marmalade ration for the day, which was enclosed in the box with -Albert. The master emptied Albert out of the window and William spent -“break” in fruitless search for him, calling “Albert!” in his most -persuasive tones ... in vain, for Albert had presumably returned to his -mourning family for a much-needed “rest cure.” - -“Well, _I_ call it stealin’,” said William sternly, “takin’ beetles -that belong to other people.... It’d serve ’em right if I turned a -Bolshevist.” - -“I don’t suppose they’d mind what you turned,” said Ginger unfeelingly -but with perfect truth. - -It was a half-holiday that afternoon, and to the consternation of his -family William announced his intention of staying at home instead of as -usual joining his friends the Outlaws in their lawless pursuits. - -“But, William, some people are coming to tea,” said Mrs. Brown -helplessly. - -“I know,” said William. “I thought p’raps you’d like me to be in to -help with ’em.” - -The thought of this desire for William’s social help attributed to her -by William, left Mrs. Brown speechless. But Ethel was not speechless. - -“Well, of course,” she remarked to the air in front of her, “that means -that the whole afternoon is spoilt.” - -William could think of no better retort to this than, “Oh, yes, it -does, does it? Well, I never!” - -Though he uttered these words in a tone of biting sarcasm and with what -he fondly imagined to be a sarcastic smile, even William felt them to -be rather feeble and added hastily in his normal manner: - -“’Fraid I’ll eat up all the cakes, I s’pose? Well, I will if I get the -chance.” - -“William, dear,” said Mrs. Brown, roused to effort by the horror of the -vision thus called up, “do you think it’s quite fair to your friends -to desert them like this? It’s the only half-holiday in the week, you -know.” - -“Oh, ’s all right,” said William. “I’ve told ’em I’m not comin’. -They’ll get on all right.” - -“Oh, yes, _they’ll_ be all right,” said Ethel in a meaning voice and -William could think of no adequate reply. - -But William was determined to be at home that afternoon. He knew that -Laurence Hinlock, Ethel’s latest admirer, was expected and William -wished to study at near quarters the delicate art of courtship. He -realised that he could not marry Miss Dobson for many years to come, -but he did not see why his courtship of her should not begin at -once.... He was going to learn how it was done from Laurence Hinlock -and Ethel.... - -He spent the earlier part of the afternoon collecting a few more -insects for his empty boxes. He was still mourning bitterly the loss of -Albert. He deliberately did not catch a stag beetle that crossed his -path because he was sure that it was not Albert. He found an earwig -that showed distinct signs of intelligence and put it in a large, airy -box with a spider for company and some leaves and crumbs and a bit of -raspberry jam for nourishment. He did not give it marmalade because -marmalade reminded him so poignantly of Albert.... - -Then he went indoors. There were several people in the drawing-room. He -greeted them rather coldly, his eye roving round the while for what he -sought. He saw it at last.... Ethel and a tall, lank young man sitting -in the window alcove in two comfortable chairs, talking vivaciously -and confidentially. William took a chair from the wall and carried it -over to them, put it down by the young man’s chair, and sat down. - -[Illustration: “DON’T YOU WANT TO GO AND PLAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS?” ASKED -THE YOUNG MAN.] - -There was a short, pregnant silence. - -“Good afternoon,” said William at last. - -“Er--good afternoon,” said the young man. - -There was another silence. - -“Hadn’t you better go and speak to the others?” said Ethel. - -“I’ve spoke to them,” said William. - -There was another silence. - -“Don’t you want to go and play with your friends?” asked the young man. - -“No, thank you,” said William. - -Silence again. - -“I think Mrs. Franks would like you to go and talk to her,” said Ethel. - -“No, I don’t think she would,” said William with perfect truth. - -[Illustration: “NO, THANK YOU,” SAID WILLIAM.] - -The young man took out a shilling and handed it to William. - -“Go and buy some sweets, for yourself,” he said. - -William put the shilling in his pocket. - -“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll go and get them to-night when you’ve all gone.” - -There was another and yet deeper silence. Then Ethel and the young man -began to talk together again. They had evidently decided to ignore -William’s presence. William listened with rapt attention. He wanted to -know what you said and the sort of voice you said it in. - -“St. Valentine’s Day next week,” said Laurence soulfully. - -“Oh, no one takes any notice of that nowadays,” said Ethel. - -“I’m going to,” said Laurence. “I think it’s a beautiful idea. Its -meaning, you know ... true love.... If I send you a Valentine, will you -accept it?” - -“That depends on the Valentine,” said Ethel with a smile. - -“It’s the thought that’s behind it that’s the vital thing,” said -Laurence soulfully. “It’s that that matters. Ethel ... you’re in all my -waking dreams.” - -“I’m sure I’m not,” said Ethel. - -“You are.... Has anyone told you before that you’re a perfect -Botticelli?” - -“Heaps of people,” said Ethel calmly. - -“I was thinking about love last night,” said Laurence. “Love at first -sight. That’s the only sort of love.... When first I saw you my heart -leapt at the sight of you.” Laurence was a great reader of romances. “I -think that we’re predestined for each other. We must have known each -other in former existences. We----” - -“Do speak up,” said William irritably. “You’re speaking so low that I -can’t hear what you’re saying.” - -“_What!_” - -The young man turned a flaming face of fury on to him. William returned -his gaze quite unabashed. - -“I don’ mean I want you to _shout_,” said William, “but just speak so’s -I can hear.” - -The young man turned to Ethel. - -“Can you get a wrap and come into the garden?” he said. - -“Yes.... I’ve got one in the hall,” said Ethel, rising. - -William fetched his coat and patiently accompanied them round the -garden. - - * * * * * - -“What do people mean by sayin’ they’ll send a Valentine, Mother?” said -William that evening. “I thought he was a sort of saint. I don’ see -how you can send a saint to anyone, specially when he’s dead ’n in the -Prayer Book.” - -“Oh, it’s just a figure of speech, William,” said Mrs. Brown vaguely. - -“A figure of what?” said William blankly. - -“I mean, its a kind of Christmas card only it’s a Valentine, I mean.... -Well, it had gone out in my day, but I remember your grandmother -showing me some that had been sent to her ... dried ferns and flowers -pasted on cardboard ... very pretty.” - -“Seems sort of silly to me,” said William after silent consideration. - -“People were more romantic in those days,” said Mrs. Brown with a sigh. - -“Oh, I’m romantic,” said William, “if that means bein’ in love. I’m -that all right. But I don’ see any sense in sendin’ pasted ferns an’ -dead saints and things.... But still,” determinedly, “I’m goin’ to do -all the sort of things they do.” - -“What _are_ you talking about, William?” said Mrs. Brown. - -Then Ethel came in. She looked angrily at William. - -“Mother, William behaved abominably this afternoon.” - -“I thought he was rather good, dear,” said Mrs. Brown mildly. - -“What did I do wrong?” said William with interest. - -“Followed us round everywhere listening to everything we said.” - -“Well, I jus’ listened, din’ I?” said William rather indignantly. “I -din’ interrupt ’cept when I couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand. -There’s nothing wrong with jus’ _listenin’_, is there?” - -“But we didn’t _want_ you,” said Ethel furiously. - -“Oh ... that!” said William. “Well, I can’t help people not _wanting_ -me, can I? That’s not _my_ fault.” - -Interest in Saint Valentine’s Day seemed to have infected the whole -household. On February 13th William came upon his brother Robert -wrapping up a large box of chocolates. - -“What’s that?” said William. - -“A Valentine,” said Robert shortly. - -“Well, Miss Lomas said it was a dead Saint, and Mother said it was a -pasted fern, an’ now you start sayin’ it’s a box of chocolates! No one -seems to know what it is. Who’s it for, anyway?” - -“Doreen Dobson,” said Robert, answering without thinking and with a -glorifying blush. - -“Oh, I _say!_” said William indignantly. “You can’t. I’ve bagged her. -I’m going to do a fern for her. I’ve had her ever since the Bible -Class.” - -“Shut up and get out,” said Robert. - -Robert was twice William’s size. - -William shut up and got out. - - * * * * * - -The Lomas family was giving a party on Saint Valentine’s Day, and -William had been invited with Robert and Ethel. William spent two hours -on his Valentine. He could not find a fern, so he picked a large spray -of yew-tree instead. There was no time to dry it, so he tried to affix -it to paper as it was. At first he tried with a piece of note-paper -and flour and water, but except for a generous coating of himself -with the paste there was no result. The yew refused to yield to -treatment. It was too strong and too large for its paper. Fortunately, -however, he found a large piece of thick cardboard, about the size of -a drawing-board, and a bottle of glue, in the cupboard of his father’s -writing desk. It took the whole bottle of glue to fix the spray of -yew-tree on to the cardboard, and the glue mingled freely with the -flour and water on William’s clothing and person. Finally he surveyed -his handiwork. - -“Well, I don’ see much _in_ it now it’s done,” he said, “but I’m jolly -well going to do all the things they do do.” - -He went to put on his overcoat to hide the ravages beneath, and met -Mrs. Brown in the hall. - -“Why are you wearing your coat, dear?” she said solicitously. “Are you -feeling cold?” - -“No. I’m just getting ready to go out to tea. That’s all,” said William. - -“But you aren’t going out to tea for half an hour or so yet.” - -“No, but you always say that I ought to start gettin’ ready in good -time,” said William virtuously. - -“Yes, of course, dear. That’s very thoughtful of you,” said Mrs. Brown, -touched. - -William spent the time before he started to the party inspecting his -insect collection. He found that the spider had escaped and the earwig -was stuck fast in the raspberry jam. He freed it, washed it, and -christened it “Fred.” It was beginning to take Albert’s place in his -affections. - -Then he set off to Miss Lomas’ carrying his Valentine under his arm. -He started out before Ethel and Robert because he wanted to begin his -courtship of Miss Dobson before anyone else was in the field. - -[Illustration: “WHAT IS IT, WILLIAM?” ASKED MISS DOBSON. “A VALENTINE,” -REPEATED WILLIAM. “_MY_ VALENTINE.”] - -Miss Lomas opened the door. She paled slightly as she saw William. - -“Oh ... William,” she said without enthusiasm. - -“I’ve come to tea,” William said, and added hastily, “I’ve been -invited.” - -“You’re rather early,” said Miss Lomas. - -“Yes, I thought I’d come early so’s to be sure to be in time,” said -William, entering and wiping his feet on the mat. “Which room’re we -goin’ to have tea in?” - -With a gesture of hopelessness Miss Lomas showed him into the empty -drawing-room. - -“It’s Miss Dobson I’ve really come for,” explained William obligingly -as he sat down. - -Miss Lomas fled, but Miss Dobson did not appear. - -William spent the interval wrestling with his Valentine. He had carried -it sticky side towards his coat, and it now adhered closely to him. He -managed at last to tear it away, leaving a good deal of glue and bits -of yew-tree still attached to his coat.... No one came.... He resisted -the temptation to sample a plate of cakes on a side table, and amused -himself by pulling sticky bits of yew off his coat and throwing them -into the fire from where he sat. A good many landed on the hearthrug. -One attached itself to a priceless Chinese vase on the mantelpiece. -William looked at what was left of his Valentine with a certain dismay. -Well ... he didn’t call it pretty, but if it was the sort of thing they -did he was jolly well going to do it.... That was all.... Then the -guests began to arrive, Robert and Ethel among the first. Miss Dobson -came in with Robert. He handed her a large box of chocolates. - -“A Valentine,” he said. - -“Oh ... thank you,” said Miss Dobson, blushing. - -William took up his enormous piece of gluey cardboard with bits of -battered yew adhering at intervals. - -“A Valentine,” he said. - -Miss Dobson looked at it in silence. Then: - -“W-what is it, William?” she said faintly. - -“A Valentine,” repeated William shortly, annoyed at its reception. - -“Oh,” said Miss Dobson. - -Robert led her over to the recess by the window which contained two -chairs. William followed, carrying his chair. He sat down beside them. -Both ignored him. - -“Quite a nice day, isn’t it?” said Robert. - -“Isn’t it?” said Miss Dobson. - -“Miss Dobson,” said William, “I’m always dreamin’ of you when I’m -awake.” - -“What a pretty idea of yours to have a Valentine’s Day party,” said -Robert. - -“Do you think so?” said Miss Dobson coyly. - -“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like a bottled cherry?” said -William doggedly. - -“Do you know ... this is the first Valentine I’ve ever given anyone?” -said Robert. - -Miss Dobson lowered her eyes. - -“Oh ... is it?” she said. - -“I’ve been thinkin’ about love at first sight,” said William -monotonously. “I got such a fright when I saw you first. I think we’re -pre-existed for each other. I----” - -“Will you allow me to take you out in my side-car to-morrow?” said -Robert. - -“Oh, how lovely!” said Miss Dobson. - -“No ... pre-destinated ... that’s it,” said William. - -Neither of them took any notice of him. He felt depressed and -disillusioned. She wasn’t much catch anyway. He didn’t know why he’d -ever bothered about her. - -“Quite a lady-killer, William,” said General Moult from the hearth-rug. - -“Beg pardon?” said William. - -“I say you’re a lady-killer.” - -“I’m not,” said William, indignant at the aspersion. “I’ve never killed -no ladies.” - -“I mean you’re fond of ladies.” - -“I think insects is nicer,” said William dispiritedly. - -He was quiet for a minute or two. No one was taking any notice of him. -Then he took up his Valentine, which was lying on the floor, and walked -out. - - * * * * * - -The Outlaws were in the old barn. They greeted William joyfully. Joan, -the only girl member, was there with them. William handed her his -cardboard. - -“A Valentine,” he said. - -“What’s a Valentine?” said Joan who did not attend Miss Lomas’ class. - -“Some say it’s a Saint what wrote soppy letters to girls ’stead of -gettin’ martyred prop’ly, like Peter an’ the others, an’ some say it’s -a bit of fern like this, an’ some say it’s a box of chocolates.” - -“Well, I never!” said Joan, surprised, “but it’s beautiful of you to -give it to me, William.” - -“It’s a jolly good piece of cardboard,” said Ginger, ’f we scrape way -these messy leaves an’ stuff.” - -William joined with zest in the scraping. - -“How’s Albert?” said Joan. - -After all there was no one quite like Joan. He’d never contemplate -marrying anyone else ever again. - -“He’s been took off me,” said William. - -“Oh, what a _shame_, William!” - -“But I’ve got another ... an earwig ... called Fred.” - -“I’m so glad.” - -“But I like you better than _any_ insect, Joan,” he said generously. - -“Oh, William, do you _really?_” said Joan, deeply touched. - -“Yes--an’ I’m goin’ to marry you when I grow up if you won’t want me to -talk a lot of soppy stuff that no one can understand.” - -“Oh, thank you, William.... No, I won’t.” - -“All right.... Now come on an’ let’s play Red Indians.” - - -THE END - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - Italics are shown thus: _sloping_. - - Small capitals have been capitalised. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained. - - Perceived typographical errors have been changed. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STILL--WILLIAM *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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