after all there’s quite a lot
of excitin’ things you can do in school.’
CHAPTER 3
GEORGIE AND THE OUTLAWS
I T seemed to the Outlaws that before Georgie Murdoch came to live at the Laurels they had led comparatively peaceful lives. They had not at any
rate been subjected to relentless and unceasing persecution as they were now. It was not Georgie who persecuted them. It was their own parents. But I will explain the connection between the advent
of Georgie Murdoch and the persecution of the Outlaws. Before Georgie came to the Laurels the Outlaws’ parents had realised that the Outlaws were characterised chiefly by roughness,
untidiness, unpunctuality, lack of cleanliness and various kindred vices. They mentioned these faults to their possessors in a manner expressive of a resigned disgust several times a day. But they
always said to each other, ‘Well, boys will be boys,’ or, ‘They’re all as bad as each other,’ or, ‘I’ve never known a boy who wasn’t like
that.’ They were in fact consoled by the reflection that the Perfect Boy did not exist.
And then Georgie Murdoch came to live at the Laurels and Georgie Murdoch was the Perfect Boy.
The effect upon the Outlaws’ parents was dynamic.
No longer did they view their offspring with resigned disgust and tell themselves and each other that boys would be boys, for was not Georgie Murdoch a walking refutation of the theory? Georgie
Murdoch’s whole existence proved conclusively that boys needn’t be boys. So with renewed vigour and a perseverance that was worthy of a better cause the Outlaws’ parents set to
work to uproot those vices of roughness, untidiness, unpunctuality and lack of cleanliness that hitherto they had treated, not indeed with encouragement, but with a certain resignation. Day after
day the Outlaws heard the never-ceasing refrain, ‘Georgie Murdoch doesn’t behave like that,’ ‘You never see Georgie Murdoch looking like that,’ ‘Nonsense,
Georgie Murdoch can make his hair stay tidy and his face stay clean, so why can’t you?’ or, ‘Watch the way Georgie Murdoch eats’. . . .
But the time has come to describe Georgie Murdoch in more detail. Georgie Murdoch was ten years of age. He was neat and tidy and methodical and clean and only spoke when he was spoken to and
always did what he was told. He hated messy things like mud and water and clay and sand and he disliked rough games. He had very beautiful manners and was much in request at afternoon teas. He
never forgot to say, ‘How do you do?’ and ‘Yes, please,’ and ‘No, thank you,’ and ‘How very kind of you,’ and he never had been known to drop
a cup or knock over a cake stand. In summer he always dressed in white and could make one suit do for three days. That gives you a pretty good idea of Georgie Murdoch’s personal habits. It is
hardly necessary to add that he loved his lessons and thought that the holidays were far too long.
When first the Murdochs came to live in the village, the Outlaws were prepared to receive Georgie with friendliness. His fame as the World’s Most Perfect Boy had not preceded him. All they
knew was that he was about their own age and of their sex and they were ready to make the best of him.
Mrs Brown met him first when she went to call on his mother.
‘He’s such a nice little boy, William,’ was her verdict on her return, ‘I’ve asked him to come to tea tomorrow because I’d like you to make friends
with him. He’s just about your age, and so well-mannered.’
This description was not encouraging, and whatever enthusiasm William may previously have felt for the newcomer waned.
‘Can I have some of the others to tea as well, Mother?’ he asked with an air of engaging innocence. But unfortunately William’s mother remembered the last occasion when
‘the others’ had been asked to help William entertain a little stranger. William and ‘the others’, after a short test of the little stranger’s
of excitin’ things you can do in school.’
CHAPTER 3
GEORGIE AND THE OUTLAWS
I T seemed to the Outlaws that before Georgie Murdoch came to live at the Laurels they had led comparatively peaceful lives. They had not at any
rate been subjected to relentless and unceasing persecution as they were now. It was not Georgie who persecuted them. It was their own parents. But I will explain the connection between the advent
of Georgie Murdoch and the persecution of the Outlaws. Before Georgie came to the Laurels the Outlaws’ parents had realised that the Outlaws were characterised chiefly by roughness,
untidiness, unpunctuality, lack of cleanliness and various kindred vices. They mentioned these faults to their possessors in a manner expressive of a resigned disgust several times a day. But they
always said to each other, ‘Well, boys will be boys,’ or, ‘They’re all as bad as each other,’ or, ‘I’ve never known a boy who wasn’t like
that.’ They were in fact consoled by the reflection that the Perfect Boy did not exist.
And then Georgie Murdoch came to live at the Laurels and Georgie Murdoch was the Perfect Boy.
The effect upon the Outlaws’ parents was dynamic.
No longer did they view their offspring with resigned disgust and tell themselves and each other that boys would be boys, for was not Georgie Murdoch a walking refutation of the theory? Georgie
Murdoch’s whole existence proved conclusively that boys needn’t be boys. So with renewed vigour and a perseverance that was worthy of a better cause the Outlaws’ parents set to
work to uproot those vices of roughness, untidiness, unpunctuality and lack of cleanliness that hitherto they had treated, not indeed with encouragement, but with a certain resignation. Day after
day the Outlaws heard the never-ceasing refrain, ‘Georgie Murdoch doesn’t behave like that,’ ‘You never see Georgie Murdoch looking like that,’ ‘Nonsense,
Georgie Murdoch can make his hair stay tidy and his face stay clean, so why can’t you?’ or, ‘Watch the way Georgie Murdoch eats’. . . .
But the time has come to describe Georgie Murdoch in more detail. Georgie Murdoch was ten years of age. He was neat and tidy and methodical and clean and only spoke when he was spoken to and
always did what he was told. He hated messy things like mud and water and clay and sand and he disliked rough games. He had very beautiful manners and was much in request at afternoon teas. He
never forgot to say, ‘How do you do?’ and ‘Yes, please,’ and ‘No, thank you,’ and ‘How very kind of you,’ and he never had been known to drop
a cup or knock over a cake stand. In summer he always dressed in white and could make one suit do for three days. That gives you a pretty good idea of Georgie Murdoch’s personal habits. It is
hardly necessary to add that he loved his lessons and thought that the holidays were far too long.
When first the Murdochs came to live in the village, the Outlaws were prepared to receive Georgie with friendliness. His fame as the World’s Most Perfect Boy had not preceded him. All they
knew was that he was about their own age and of their sex and they were ready to make the best of him.
Mrs Brown met him first when she went to call on his mother.
‘He’s such a nice little boy, William,’ was her verdict on her return, ‘I’ve asked him to come to tea tomorrow because I’d like you to make friends
with him. He’s just about your age, and so well-mannered.’
This description was not encouraging, and whatever enthusiasm William may previously have felt for the newcomer waned.
‘Can I have some of the others to tea as well, Mother?’ he asked with an air of engaging innocence. But unfortunately William’s mother remembered the last occasion when
‘the others’ had been asked to help William entertain a little stranger. William and ‘the others’, after a short test of the little stranger’s
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