William The Conqueror Read Free Page B

Ginger’s aunt was young and radiantly pretty.
    ‘Crumbs!’ gasped William ecstatically.
    Ginger found himself unusually and unexpectedly popular the next day.
    ‘Hello, Ginger!’
    ‘G’mornin’, Ginger.’
    ‘How’s your aunt, Ginger?’
    Ginger at first suspected sarcasm in this question, then realised with surprise that there was none.
    ‘V’well,’ he said laconically; ‘she’s a jolly lot better than I thought she was going to be.’
    ‘Nicer than you thought she was goin’ to be!’ repeated William sternly. ‘You’re jolly well not to talk like that about her. You don’ deserve her,
that’s what it is; you don’ deserve an aunt like wot she is. You—’
    ‘You don’t know anything about her,’ said Ginger amazed and indignant.
    ‘Oh, don ’ I?’ said William. ‘I bet I do. I bet I know all there is to know about her. I bet I know she’s beauteous an’ good an’ –
an’ – good an’ – an’ – beauteous—’
    ‘Here!’ interrupted Ginger pugnaciously. ‘What you talkin’ like that about her? She’s not your aunt. She’s mine.’
    ‘I’ll fight you for her,’ said William.
    ‘A’right,’ agreed Ginger, taking off his coat.
    They fought and William won.
    ‘Now she’s my aunt,’ said William complacently, as he put on his coat and felt tenderly and proudly a fast-swelling eye with his grimy hand.
    ‘Well, you can call her your aunt,’ said Ginger, ‘but the fac’ remains she’s my father’s sister.’
    ‘But I’ve fought you for her,’ said William indignantly.
    ‘A’right,’ agreed Ginger. ‘I said she was your aunt all right, but ’f you want her to be your father’s sister you’ll have to get your father to fight my
father for her, an’ even then I don’ see—’
    ‘Let’s have her for all our aunts,’ suggested Douglas pacifically.
    ‘It’s her birthday next week,’ added Ginger, ‘while she’s staying with us.’
    ‘I say!’ said William, as though struck by a sudden brilliant idea, ‘let’s get up a sort of treat for her.’
    ‘Crumbs!’ said the Outlaws. ‘Yes, let’s.’
    ‘What’ll we have?’ said Henry brightly. ‘A picnic?’
    ‘No,’ said William decidedly. ‘The only decent picnic places are trespass places, an’ prob’ly she can’t run’s fast as what we can ’f anyone
comes.’
    ‘Let’s act something,’ said Douglas.
    ‘Don’t forget she’s my aunt,’ said Ginger proudly. ‘I mean William’s aunt,’ he corrected himself as he met William’s eye. ‘William’s
aunt an’ my father’s sister.’
    ‘What’ll we act?’ said Henry.
    ‘Oh, anythin’. ’S easy’s easy to act. Jus’ make somethin’ up or do somethin’ out of a book.’
    ‘Means learnin’,’ said Ginger despondently. ‘Jus’ like lessons. Might’s well be doin’ hist’ry or g’ography as learnin’ actin’
stuff.’
    ‘We needn’t learn it,’ said Douglas. ‘We can jus’ make it up as we go along.’
    ‘Well, you know what that’s like,’ said Ginger sternly. ‘You oughter, anyway, ’cause we’ve done it. You jus’ dunno what to say when it comes to
the time, or someone else says the thing you wanted to say, an’ you int’rupt each other an’ get fightin’. It wun’t be much of a birthday treat for my aunt. I mean
William’s aunt an’ my father’s sister.’
    ‘Well, let’s do it dumb show, then,’ said Douglas, ‘let’s act without speakin’. Jus’ move our arms an’ legs about an’ things like that
an’—’
    He stopped. The Outlaws were looking at William. Upon William’s freckled, homely countenance was dawning an expression that those who knew him recognised as inspiration. At last he
spoke.
    ‘I know!’ he said. ‘ Waxworks ?’
    ‘Crumbs!’ chorused the Outlaws in delight. ‘ Waxworks ?’
    ‘What’ll we be?’ said Henry. ‘People out of history?’
    ‘’F you know enough history to go actin’ it you can,’ said William scathingly.
    ‘Well, we could have