heap of fresh-dug earth that was on the edge of the hole upon its occupant, using feet and hands and head and body. It all happened in a
second. The man, up to his neck in the sudden avalanche of damp garden soil, looked up at them, sputtering anger and earth.
‘I say! I say, you know,’ he said. ‘Look here!’
William leant over the edge of the hole.
‘You jus’ gotter stop it,’ he said fiercely. ‘D’you see? You jus’ gotter stop it!’
The young man gazed at him in amazement. He made no effort to arise. He lay back on his earthen couch.
‘You’ve jolly well winded me, you young devil!’ he said, still ejecting earth from his mouth as he spoke. ‘Stop what?’
‘You know,’ said William mysteriously, bending still farther over the edge of the hole. ‘You jolly well know, doesn’t he, Ginger? How’d you like
someone to do it to you – murderin’ you an’ buryin’ you in back gardens? Jus’ think of that! Jus’ think of how you’d like other folk doin’ it to
you, ’fore you start doin’ it to other folks.’
‘I’ll jolly well murder you, once I get out of here,’ said the man. ‘I’ll murder you and bury you ten times over. Don’t worry about that.’
‘You oughter reform an’ start again on the – what was it? – the path of virt – virt something – now I’ve told you like what he said – with jus’ a word. Well,
I’ve said the word, an’ you oughter re form an’—’
THEY CREPT ACROSS THE LAWN AND SUDDENLY OVERTURNED THE HEAP OF FRESH-DUG EARTH OVER THE EDGE OF THE HOLE UPON ITS OCCUPANT.
‘Just you wait, my son,’ said the young man grimly, beginning to unearth himself.
But Ginger had made a discovery.
‘Look, William,’ he said. ‘Look at this!’
‘This’ was a tin, containing curious earth-covered coins, at the edge of the hole.
‘He’s a thief, too,’ said William indignantly. ‘Takin’ folks’ money as well as buryin’ them. He’s goin’ right down the broad evil path like
what he said. Well, he oughter stop. I’ve said it. I’ve said the word like what he said, an’ he oughter re form an’ come back to the path of virt— what he
said.’
The young man was fast unearthing himself. He looked a curious sight.
‘Just you wait,’ he said again, as he began to climb out of the hole. ‘Murder won’t be in it.’
Instinctively and throwing the zeal of the reformer to the winds, William and Ginger took to their heels and fled – across the lawn, down the drive, down the road – with fleetness of foot gained
in many a flight from irate farmers and landowners. Ginger still hugged to his breast the tin of coins. The earthen young man followed, leaving a trail of soil as he ran.
‘Here!’ he shouted. ‘Bring back that tin! Here! Thieves!’
They threw him off at the first turning, and made for William’s house. They fled panting up the drive.
‘Look out!’ said William breathlessly. ‘There’s Father!’
Mr Brown, putting on his hat in the hall for a quiet evening stroll, turned to see his son and his son’s friend walking slowly and demurely up the drive. The son’s friend held an old
tin clasped to his breast. Both were red and breathless in spite of their slow and demure progress. Mr Brown looked at his son with a suspicion born of experience.
‘Where have you been?’ he said.
‘Jus’ for a walk,’ said William meekly and with wide-eyed, appealing innocence.
The two proceeded towards the stairs.
‘Where are you going now?’ said Mr Brown, still more suspiciously.
‘Jus’ up to my room, Father,’ said William.
Mr Brown fastened his stern gaze upon the tin.
‘What have you got there?’ he demanded.
‘Jus’ some ole things we’ve found,’ floated in William’s dulcet tones from halfway upstairs.
‘Crumbs!’ said William upstairs. ‘I thought he was going to nab us.’
‘My sainted aunt!’ said William’s father downstairs, ‘That boy’s up to something again!’
William’s
second. The man, up to his neck in the sudden avalanche of damp garden soil, looked up at them, sputtering anger and earth.
‘I say! I say, you know,’ he said. ‘Look here!’
William leant over the edge of the hole.
‘You jus’ gotter stop it,’ he said fiercely. ‘D’you see? You jus’ gotter stop it!’
The young man gazed at him in amazement. He made no effort to arise. He lay back on his earthen couch.
‘You’ve jolly well winded me, you young devil!’ he said, still ejecting earth from his mouth as he spoke. ‘Stop what?’
‘You know,’ said William mysteriously, bending still farther over the edge of the hole. ‘You jolly well know, doesn’t he, Ginger? How’d you like
someone to do it to you – murderin’ you an’ buryin’ you in back gardens? Jus’ think of that! Jus’ think of how you’d like other folk doin’ it to
you, ’fore you start doin’ it to other folks.’
‘I’ll jolly well murder you, once I get out of here,’ said the man. ‘I’ll murder you and bury you ten times over. Don’t worry about that.’
‘You oughter reform an’ start again on the – what was it? – the path of virt – virt something – now I’ve told you like what he said – with jus’ a word. Well,
I’ve said the word, an’ you oughter re form an’—’
THEY CREPT ACROSS THE LAWN AND SUDDENLY OVERTURNED THE HEAP OF FRESH-DUG EARTH OVER THE EDGE OF THE HOLE UPON ITS OCCUPANT.
‘Just you wait, my son,’ said the young man grimly, beginning to unearth himself.
But Ginger had made a discovery.
‘Look, William,’ he said. ‘Look at this!’
‘This’ was a tin, containing curious earth-covered coins, at the edge of the hole.
‘He’s a thief, too,’ said William indignantly. ‘Takin’ folks’ money as well as buryin’ them. He’s goin’ right down the broad evil path like
what he said. Well, he oughter stop. I’ve said it. I’ve said the word like what he said, an’ he oughter re form an’ come back to the path of virt— what he
said.’
The young man was fast unearthing himself. He looked a curious sight.
‘Just you wait,’ he said again, as he began to climb out of the hole. ‘Murder won’t be in it.’
Instinctively and throwing the zeal of the reformer to the winds, William and Ginger took to their heels and fled – across the lawn, down the drive, down the road – with fleetness of foot gained
in many a flight from irate farmers and landowners. Ginger still hugged to his breast the tin of coins. The earthen young man followed, leaving a trail of soil as he ran.
‘Here!’ he shouted. ‘Bring back that tin! Here! Thieves!’
They threw him off at the first turning, and made for William’s house. They fled panting up the drive.
‘Look out!’ said William breathlessly. ‘There’s Father!’
Mr Brown, putting on his hat in the hall for a quiet evening stroll, turned to see his son and his son’s friend walking slowly and demurely up the drive. The son’s friend held an old
tin clasped to his breast. Both were red and breathless in spite of their slow and demure progress. Mr Brown looked at his son with a suspicion born of experience.
‘Where have you been?’ he said.
‘Jus’ for a walk,’ said William meekly and with wide-eyed, appealing innocence.
The two proceeded towards the stairs.
‘Where are you going now?’ said Mr Brown, still more suspiciously.
‘Jus’ up to my room, Father,’ said William.
Mr Brown fastened his stern gaze upon the tin.
‘What have you got there?’ he demanded.
‘Jus’ some ole things we’ve found,’ floated in William’s dulcet tones from halfway upstairs.
‘Crumbs!’ said William upstairs. ‘I thought he was going to nab us.’
‘My sainted aunt!’ said William’s father downstairs, ‘That boy’s up to something again!’
William’s
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