William The Conqueror Read Free Page A

breaking the window of a neighbouring cottage by accident they fled to
the other end of the village, where they watched the blacksmith shoeing a horse. Ginger, to his great delight, was allowed to hold the hammer for a minute. This made him rather uppish, and his
subsequent boasts of the honour thus paid him annoyed the other Outlaws so much that they all sat upon him (literally) in the ditch till he promised as well as his mouthful of mud would allow him
not to mention it again.
    It had been, on the whole, a thoroughly satisfactory morning. A similar afternoon was hardly to be hoped for, but the Outlaws were notoriously optimistic.
    ‘What we goin’ to do this afternoon?’ repeated William.
    A look of despondency came over Ginger’s face.
    ‘Gotter stay in at home,’ he said mournfully.
    ‘Why?’ said the Outlaws.
    ‘Gotter naunt comin’ to stay. She’s not comin’ till tea-time, but they say they want her to see me clean, so I gotter stay in clean all afternoon.’
    There was a murmur of indignation at this inhuman cruelty.
    ‘Jus’ like grown-ups,’ said William bitterly.
    ‘What’s your aunt like?’ said Henry with interest. ‘Sorter one who gives decent tips?’
    The Outlaws always ‘went shares’ in tips, and therefore each one took a personal interest in the visits of the other members’ relations.
    ‘Never seen her before,’ said Ginger disconsolately. ‘Don’t know what she’s like.’
    ‘Sure to be awful,’ said Douglas unfeelingly.
    ‘But we don’ mind that if she gives a decent tip,’ added Henry.
    ‘Oh, no,’ said Ginger bitterly. ‘ You don’ mind. You’ve not gotter sit all afternoon clean an’ doin’ nothin’, have you? Oh, no,
I’m sure you don’t mind.’
    ‘She might poss’bly be nice,’ said William, without much conviction.
    ‘Oh, yes. She might,’ said Ginger still more bitterly. ‘S’easy for you to talk, isn’t it? You don’ mind. Oh, no! An’ she might be nice.
Oh, yes, you’d talk like that if it was your aunt what was comin’ an’ you what had to sit clean all afternoon, wun’t you?’
    When roused, Ginger could emulate William’s sarcastic manner rather well . . .
    The afternoon passed happily enough. William, Douglas and Henry practised lassoing Jumble in the back garden of William’s house. Jumble enjoyed the game immensely. The lasso never caught
him, but occasionally he caught the lasso and worried it zestfully. When, however, they had by mistake lassoed a flower pot on to and through the glass of a cucumber frame, the Outlaws very quietly
left the precincts of William’s home and spent the rest of the afternoon sliding down a battered hayrick in one of Farmer Jenks’ fields, and bringing down a considerable portion of hay
with each descent. At intervals they thought of Ginger sitting in solitary cleanliness and boredom in his family’s drawing-room waiting for his aunt.
    ‘Poor old Ginger!’ said Henry, as he descended from the hayrick with a bump.
    ‘She’ll have come by now p’raps,’ said Douglas.
    ‘Hope she’s rich,’ said William cheerfully.
    ‘Let’s go’n look at her,’ said Henry.
    The idea appealed to the Outlaws, and they set off at once for Ginger’s house.
    Dusk was falling when they reached it. They crept round to the back of the house, where they knew that Ginger’s drawing-room window was. There they crouched among the ivy and peered
cautiously into the lighted window.
    The first thing they saw was Ginger dressed in his best suit, made unfamiliar with gleaming cleanliness of face and collar, sitting on a chair opposite the window. The first thing they noticed
was that he was not looking bored. He was, in fact, beaming delightedly, though he had not yet seen his friends . . .
    Then the eyes of the Outlaws wandered across to Ginger’s aunt. She was sitting in front of the fire. The Outlaws’ eyes and mouths grew wide as they watched. Their noses were pressed
flat against the window pane. For