CHAPTER V
THE SHOW
The Outlaws sat around the old barn, plunged in deep thought. Henry, theoldest member (aged 121/4) had said in a moment of inspiration:
"Let's think of--sumthin' else to do--sumthin' quite fresh from whatwe've ever done before."
And the Outlaws were thinking.
They had engaged in mortal combat with one another, they had cookedstrange ingredients over a smoking and reluctant flame with a finedisregard of culinary conventions, they had tracked each other over thecountry-side with gait and complexions intended to represent those ofthe aborigines of South America, they had even turned their attention tokidnapping (without any striking success), and these occupations hadpalled.
In all its activities the Society of Outlaws (comprising four members)aimed at a simple, unostentatious mode of procedure. In their shrinkingfrom the glare of publicity they showed an example of unaffected modestythat many other public societies might profitably emulate. The parentsof the members were unaware of the very existence of the society. Theill-timed and tactless interference of parents had nipped in the budmany a cherished plan, and by bitter experience the Outlaws had learntthat secrecy was their only protection. Owing to the rules andrestrictions of an unsympathetic world that orders school hours from 9to 4 their meetings were confined to half-holidays and occasionallySunday afternoons.
William, the ever ingenious, made the first suggestion.
"Let's shoot things with bows an' arrows same as real outlaws used to,"he said.
"What things?" and
"What bows an' arrows?" said Henry and Ginger simultaneously.
"Oh, anything--birds an' cats an' hens an' things--an' buy bows an'arrows. You can buy them in shops."
"We can make them," said Douglas, hopefully.
"Not like you can get them in shops. They'd shoot crooked or sumthin' ifwe made them. They've got to be jus' so to shoot straight. I saw some inBrook's window, too, jus' right--jus' same as real outlaws had."
"How much?" said the outlaws breathlessly.
"Five shillings--targets for learnin' on before we begin shootin' realthings an' all."
"Five shillings!" breathed Douglas. He might as well have said fivepounds. "We've not got five shillings. Henry's not having any moneysince he broke their drawing-room window an' Ginger only has 3_d._ aweek an' has to give collection an' we've not paid for the guinea pigyet, the one that got into Ginger's sister's hat an' she was so mad at,an'----"
"Oh, never mind all that," said William, scornfully. "We'll jus' getfive shillings."
"How?"
"Well," uncertainly, "grown-ups can always get money when they want it."
"How?" again.
William disliked being tied down to details.
"Oh--bazaars an' things," impatiently.
"Bazaars!" exploded Henry. "Who'd come to a bazaar if we had one? Whowould? Jus' tell me that if you're so clever! Who'd come to it? Besides,you've got to sell things at a bazaar, haven't you? What'd we sell?We've got nothin' to sell, have we? What's the good of havin' a bazaarwith nothin' to sell and no one to buy it? Jus' tell me that!"
Henry always enjoyed scoring off William.
"Well--shows an' things," said William desperately.
There was a moment's silence, then Ginger repeated thoughtfully."Shows!" and Douglas, whose eldest brother was home from college for hisvacation, murmured self-consciously, "By Jove!"
"We _could_ do a show," said Ginger. "Get animals an' things an' chargemoney for lookin' at them."
"Who'd pay it?" said Henry, the doubter.
"Anyone would. You'd pay to see animals, wouldn't you?--real animals.People do at the Zoo, don't they? Well, we'll get some animals. That'seasy enough, isn't it?"
A neighbouring church clock struck four and the meeting was adjourned.
"Well, we'll have a show an' get money and buy bows an' arrows an' shootthings," summed up William, "an we'll arrange the show next week."
William returned home slowly and thoughtfully. He sat on his bed, hishands in his pockets, his brow drawn into a frown, his thoughtswandering in a dreamland of wonderful "shows" and rare exotic beasts.
Suddenly from the next room came a thin sound that gathered volume tillit seemed to fill the house like the roaring of a lion, then diedgradually away and was followed by silence. But only for a second. Itbegan again--a small whisper that grew louder and louder, became araucous bellow, then faded slowly away to rise again after a moment'ssilence. In the next room William's mother's Aunt Emily was taking herafternoon nap. Aunt Emily had come down a month ago for a week's visitand had not yet referred to the date of her departure. William's fatherwas growing anxious. She was a stout, healthy lady, who spent all hertime recovering from a slight illness she had had two years ago. Herlife held two occupations, and only two. These were eating and sleeping.For William she possessed a subtle but irresistible fascination. Herstature, her appetite, her gloom, added to the fact that she utterlyignored him, attracted him strongly.
The tea bell rang and the sound of the snoring ceased abruptly. Thisentertainment over, William descended to the dining-room, where hisfather was addressing his mother with some heat.
"Is she going to stay here for ever, or only for a few years? I'd liketo know, because----"
Perceiving William, he stopped abruptly, and William's mother murmured:
"It's so nice to have her, dear."
Then Aunt Emily entered.
"Have you slept well, Aunt?"
"Slept!" repeated Aunt Emily majestically. "I hardly expect to sleep inmy state of health. A little rest is all I can expect."
"Sorry you're no better," said William's father sardonically.
"_Better?_" she repeated again indignantly. "It will be a long timebefore I'm better."
She lowered her large, healthy frame into a chair, carefully selected asubstantial piece of bread and butter and attacked it with vigour.
"I'm going to the post after tea," said William's mother. "Would youcare to come with me?"
Aunt Emily took a large helping of jam.
"You hardly expect me to go out in the evening in my state of health,surely? It's years since I went out after tea. And I was at the postoffice this morning. There were a lot of people there, but they servedme first. I suppose they saw I looked ill."
William's father choked suddenly and apologised, but not humbly.
"Though I must say," went on Aunt Emily, "this place does suit me. Ithink after a few months here I should be a little stronger. Pass thejam, William."
The glance that William's father fixed upon her would have made astronger woman quail, but Aunt Emily was scraping out the last remnantsof jam and did not notice.
"I'm a bit over-tired to-day, I think," she went on. "I'm so apt toforget how weak I am and then I overdo it. I'm ready for the cake,William. I just sat out in the sun yesterday afternoon and sat a bit toolong and over-tired myself. I ought to write letters after tea, but Idon't think I have the strength. Another piece of cake, William. I'll goupstairs to rest instead, I think. I hope you'll keep the house quiet.It's so rarely that I can get a bit of sleep."
William's father left the room abruptly. William sat on and watched,with fascinated eyes, the cake disappear, and finally followed thelarge, portly figure upstairs and sat down in his room to plan the"show" and incidentally listen, with a certain thrilled awe, for thesounds from next door.
The place and time of the "show" presented no little difficulty. To holdit in the old barn would give away to the world the cherished secret oftheir meeting place. It was William who suggested his bedroom, to beentered, not by way of the front door and staircase, but by the lesspublic way of the garden wall and scullery roof. Ever an optimist, heaffirmed that no one would see or hear. The choice of a time was limitedto Wednesday afternoon, Saturday afternoon, and Sunday. Sunday at firstwas ruled out as impossible. But there were difficulties about Wednesdayafternoon and Saturday afternoon. On Wednesday afternoon Ginger andDou
glas were unwilling and ungraceful pupils at a dancing class. OnSaturday afternoon William's father gardened and would command a view ofthe garden wall and scullery roof. On these afternoons also Cook andEmma, both of a suspicious turn of mind, would be at large. On SundayCook and Emma went out, William's mother paid a regular weekly visit toan old friend and William's father spent the afternoon on the sofa, deadto the world.
Moreover, as he pointed out to the Outlaws, the members of the SundaySchool could be waylaid and induced to attend the show and they wouldprobably be provided with money for collection. The more William thoughtover it, the more attractive became the idea of a Sunday afternoon inspite of superficial difficulties; therefore Sunday afternoon wasfinally chosen.
The day was fortunately a fine one, and William and the other Outlawswere at work early. William had asked his mother, with an expression ofmeekness and virtue that ought to have warned her of danger, if he mighthave "jus' a few friends" in his room for the afternoon. His mother,glad that her husband should be spared his son's restless company, gavewilling permission.
By half-past two the exhibits were ready. In a cage by the window sat awhite rat painted in faint alternate stripes of blue and pink. This wasDouglas' contribution, handpainted by himself in water colours. It worea bewildered expression and occasionally licked its stripes and thenobviously wished it hadn't. Its cage bore a notice printed on cardboard:
+-------------------+ | RAT FROM CHINA | | RATS ARE ALL LIKE | | THIS IN CHINA | +-------------------+
Next came a cat belonging to William's sister, Smuts by name, nowimprisoned beneath a basket-chair. At the best of times Smuts wasshort-tempered, and all its life had cherished a bitter hatred ofWilliam. Now, enclosed by its enemy in a prison two feet square, itsfury knew no bounds. It tore at the basket work, it flew wildly roundand round, scratching, spitting, swearing. Its chair bore the simple andappropriate notice:
+----------+ | WILD CAT | +----------+
William watched it with honest pride and prayed fervently that itsindignation would not abate during the afternoon.
Next came a giant composed of Douglas upon Ginger's back, draped in twosheets tied tightly round Douglas's neck. This was labelled:
+--------------+ | GENWIN GIANT | +--------------+
Ginger was already growing restive. His muffled voice was heard from thefolds of the sheets informing the other Outlaws that it was a bit thickand he hadn't known it would be like this or he wouldn't have done it,and anyway he was going to change with Douglas half time or he'd chuckup the whole thing.
The next exhibit was a black fox fur of William's mother's, to which wasfortunately attached a head and several feet, and which he hadsurreptitiously removed from her wardrobe. This had been tied up,stuffed with waste paper and wired by William till it was, in his eyes,remarkably lifelike. As the legs, even with the assistance of wire,refused to support the body and the head would only droop sadly to theground, it was perforce exhibited in a recumbent attitude. It bore marksof sticky fingers, and of several side slips of the scissors whenWilliam was cutting the wire, but on the whole he was justly proud ofit. It bore the striking but untruthful legend:--
+------------+ | BEAR SHOT | | BY OUTLAWS | | IN RUSHER | +------------+
Next came:
+------------+ | BLUE DOG | +------------+
This was Henry's fox terrier, generally known as Chips. For Chips theworld was very black. Henry's master mind had scorned his paint box andhis water colours. Henry had "borrowed" a blue bag and dabbed itliberally over Chips. Chips had, after the first wild frenzied struggle,offered no resistance. He now sat, a picture of black despair, turningevery now and then a melancholy eye upon the still enraged Smuts. Butfor him cats and joy and life and fighting were no more. He was abject,shamed--a blue dog.
William himself, as showman, was an imposing figure. He was robed in ared dressing-gown of his father's that trailed on the ground behind himand over whose cords in front he stumbled ungracefully as he walked. Hehad cut a few strands from the fringe of a rug and glued them to hislips to represent moustaches. They fell in two straight lines over hismouth. On his head was a tinsel crown, once worn by his sister as FairyQueen.
The show had been widely advertised and all the neighbouring childrenhad been individually canvassed, but under strict orders of secrecy. Thethreats of what the Outlaws would do if their secret were disclosed hadkept many a child awake at night.
William surveyed the room proudly.
"Not a bad show for a penny, I _should_ say. I guess there aren't manylike it, anyway. Do shut up talkin', Ginger. It'll spoil it all, iffolks hear the giant talking out of his stomach. It's Douglas that's gotto do the giant's _talking_. Anyone could see that. I say, they'recomin'! Look! They're comin'! Along the wall!"
There was a thin line of children climbing along the wall in single fileon all fours. They ascended the scullery roof and approached the window.These were the first arrivals who had called on their way to SundaySchool.
Henry took their pennies and William cleared his throat and began:--
"White rat from China, ladies an' gentlemen, pink an' blue striped. Allrats is pink an' blue striped in China. This is the only genwin Chinarat in England--brought over from China special las' week jus' for theshow. It lives on China bread an' butter brought over special, too."
WILLIAM WAS AN IMPOSING FIGURE.]
"Wash it!" jeered an unbeliever. "Jus' wash it an' let's see it then."
"Wash it?" repeated the showman indignantly. "It's gotter be washed.It's washed every morning an' night same as you or me. China rats havegotter be washed or they'd die right off. Washin' 'em don't make nodifference to their stripes. Anyone knows that that knows anything aboutChina rats, I guess."
He laughed scornfully and turned to Smuts. Smuts had grown used to thebasket chair and was settling down for a nap. William crouched down onall fours, ran his fingers along the basket-work, and, putting his faceclose to it, gave vent to a malicious howl. Smuts sprang at him,scratching and spitting.
"Wild cat," said William triumphantly. "Look at it! Kill anyone if itgot out! Spring at their throats, it would, an' scratch their eyes outwith its paws an' bite their necks till its teeth met. If I jus' movedaway that chair it would spring out at you." They moved hastily awayfrom the chair, "and I bet some of you would be dead pretty quick. Itcould have anyone's head right off with bitin' and scratchin'. Rightoff--separate from their bodies!"
There was an awe-stricken silence.
Then:
"Garn! It's Smuts. It's your sister's cat!"
William laughed as though vastly amused by this idea.
"Smuts!" he said, giving a surreptitious kick to the chair thatinfuriated its occupant still more. "I guess there wouldn't be many ofus left in this house if Smuts was like this."
They passed on to the giant.
"A giant," said William, re-arranging the tinsel crown, which wasslightly too big for him. "Real giant. Look at it. As big as two of youput together. How d'you think he gets in at doors and things? Has tohave everything made special. Look at him walk. Walk, Ginger."
Ginger took two steps forward. Douglas clutched his shoulders andmurmured anxiously, "By Jove!"
"Go on," urged William scornfully, "That's not walkin'."
The goaded Ginger's voice came from the giant's middle regions!
"If you go on talkin' at me, I'll drop him. I'm just about sick of it."
"All right," said William hastily.
"Anyway it's a giant," he went on to his audience. "A jolly fine giant."
"It's got Douglas's face," said one of his audience.
William was for a moment at a loss.
"Well," he said at last, "giant's got to have some sort of a face,hasn't it? Can't not have a face, can it?"
The Russian Bear, which had often been seen adorning the shoulders ofWilliam's mother and was promptly recognised, was greeted with ribaldjeers, but the
re was no doubt as to the success of the Blue Dog. Chipsadvanced deprecatingly, blue head drooping, and blue tail between bluelegs, making abject apologies for his horrible condition. But Henryhad done his work well. They stood around in rapt admiration.
THE GOADED GINGER'S VOICE CAME FROM THE GIANT'S MIDDLEREGIONS.]
"Blue dog," said the showman, walking forward proudly and stumblingviolently over the cords of the dressing gown. "Blue dog," he repeated,recovering his balance and removing the tinsel crown from his nose tohis brow. "You never saw a blue dog before, did you? No, and you aren'tlikely to see one again, neither. It was made blue special for thisshow. It's the only blue dog in the world. Folks'll be comin' from allover the world to see this blue dog--an' thrown in in a penny show! Ifit was in the Zoo you'd have to pay a shilling to see it, I bet.It's--it's jus' luck for you it's here. I guess the folks at the Zoowish they'd got it. Tain't many shows have blue dogs. Brown an' blackan' white--but not blue. Why, folks pay money jus' to see shows ofornery dogs--so you're jus' lucky to see a blue dog _an'_ a dead bearfrom Russia _an'_ a giant, _an'_ a wild cat, _an'_ a China rat for jus'one penny."
After each speech William had to remove from his mouth the rug fringewhich persisted in obeying the force of gravity rather than William'sidea of what a moustache should be.
"It's jus' paint. Henry's gate's being painted blue," said one criticfeebly, but on the whole the Outlaws had scored a distinct success inthe blue dog.
Then, while they stood in silent admiration round the unhappy animal,came a sound from the next door, a gentle sound like the sighing of thewind through the trees. It rose and fell. It rose again and fell again.It increased in volume with each repetition, till at its height itsounded like a wild animal in pain.
"What's that?" asked the audience breathlessly.
William was slightly uneasy. He was not sure whether this freshdevelopment would add lustre or dishonour to his show.
"Yes," he said darkly to gain time, "what is it? I guess you'd like toknow what it is!"
"Garn! It's jus' snorin'."
"Snorin'!" repeated William. "It's not ornery snorin', that isn't. Jus'listen, that's all! You couldn't snore like that, I bet. Huh!"
They listened spellbound to the gentle sound, growing louder and loudertill at its loudest it brought rapt smiles to their faces, then ceasingabruptly, then silence. Then again the gentle sound that grew and grew.
William asked Henry in a stage whisper if they oughtn't to charge extrafor listening to it. The audience hastily explained that they weren'tlistening, they "jus' couldn't help hearin'."
A second batch of sightseers had arrived and were paying their entrancepennies, but the first batch refused to move. William, emboldened bysuccess, opened the door and they crept out to the landing and listenedwith ears pressed to the magic door.
Henry now did the honours of showman. William stood, majestic in hisglorious apparel, deep in thought. Then to his face came the faint smilethat inspiration brings to her votaries. He ordered the audience backinto the showroom and shut the door. Then he took off his shoes andsoftly and with bated breath opened Aunt Emily's door and peepedwithin. It was rather a close afternoon, and she lay on her bed on thetop of her eiderdown. She had slipped off her dress skirt so as not tocrush it, and she lay in her immense stature in a blouse and stripedpetticoat, while from her open mouth issued the fascinating sounds. Insleep Aunt Emily was not beautiful.
William thoughtfully propped up a cushion in the doorway and stoodconsidering the situation.
In a few minutes the showroom was filled with a silent, expectant crowd.In a corner near the door was a new notice:
+----------------------+ | PLACE FOR TAKING | | OFF SHOES AND TAKING | | OTH OF SILENCE | +----------------------+
William, after administering the oath of silence to a select party inhis most impressive manner led them shoeless and on tiptoe to the nextroom.
From Aunt Emily's bed hung another notice:
+------------------+ | FAT WILD WOMAN | | TORKIN NATIF | | LANGWIDGE | +------------------+
They stood in a hushed, delighted group around her bed. The sounds neverceased, never abated. William only allowed them two minutes in the room.They came out reluctantly, paid more money, joined the end of the queueand re-entered. More and more children came to see the show, but theshow now consisted solely in Aunt Emily.
The China rat had licked off all its stripes; Smuts was fast asleep;Ginger was sitting down on the seat of a chair and Douglas on the backof it, and Ginger had insisted at last on air and sight and had put hishead out where the two sheets joined; the Russian Bear had fallen on tothe floor and no one had picked it up; Chips lay in a disconsolate heap,a victim of acute melancholia--and no one cared for any of these things.New-comers passed by them hurriedly and stood shoeless in the queueoutside Aunt Emily's room eagerly awaiting their turn. Those who cameout simply went to the end again to wait another turn. Many returnedhome for more money, for Aunt Emily was 1d. extra and each visit afterthe first, 1/2d. The Sunday School bell pealed forth its summons, but noone left the show. The vicar was depressed that evening. The attendanceat Sunday School had been the worst on record. And still Aunt Emilyslept and snored with a rapt, silent crowd around her. But William couldnever rest content. He possessed ambition that would have put many ofhis elders to shame. He cleared the room and re-opened it after a fewminutes, during which his clients waited in breathless suspense.
When they re-entered there was a fresh exhibit. William's keen eye hadbeen searching out each detail of the room. On the table by her bed nowstood a glass containing teeth, that William had discovered on thewashstand, and a switch of hair and a toothless comb, that William haddiscovered on the dressing-table. These all bore notices:
+----------+ +----------+ +----------+ | FAT WILD | | FAT WILD | | FAT WILD | | WOMAN'S | | WOMAN'S | | WOMAN'S | | TEETH | | HARE | | KOME | +----------+ +----------+ +----------+
Were it not that the slightest noise meant instant expulsion from theshow (some of their number had already suffered that bitter fate) therewould have been no restraining the audience. As it was, they crept in,silent, expectant, thrilled, to watch and listen for the blissful twominutes. And Aunt Emily never failed them. Still she slept and snored.They borrowed money recklessly from each other. The poor sold theirdearest treasures to the rich, and still they came again and again. Andstill Aunt Emily slept and snored. It would be interesting to know howlong this would have gone on, had she not, on the top note of a pealthat was a pure delight to her audience, awakened with a start andglanced around her. At first she thought that the cluster of small boysaround her was a dream, especially as they turned and fled precipitatelyat once. Then she sat up and her eye fell upon the table by her bed, thenotices, and finally upon the petrified horror-stricken showman. Shesprang up and, seizing him by the shoulders, shook him till his teethchattered, the tinsel crown fell down, encircling ears and nose, and oneof his moustaches fell limply at his feet.
"You wicked boy!" she said as she shook him, "you _wicked_, _wicked_,_wicked_ boy!"
He escaped from her grasp and fled to the showroom, where, in sheerself-defence, he moved a table and three chairs across the door. Theroom was empty except for Henry, the blue dog, and the still sleepingSmuts. All that was left of the giant was the crumpled sheets. Douglashad, with an awe-stricken "By Jove!" snatched up his rat as he fled. Thelast of their clients was seen scrambling along the top of the gardenwall on all fours with all possible speed.
Mechanically William straightened his crown.
"She's woke," he said. "She's mad wild."
He listened apprehensively for angry footsteps descending the stairs andhis father's dread summons, but none came. Aunt Emily could be heardmoving about in her room, but that was all. A wild hope came to himthat, given a little time, she might forget the incident.
"Let's count the money--" said Henry at last.
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They counted.
"Four an' six!" screamed William. "Four an' six! Jolly good, I _should_say! An' it would only have been about two shillings without Aunt Emily,an' I thought of her, didn't I? I guess you can all be jolly grateful tome."
"All right," said Henry unkindly. "I'm not envying you, am I? You'rewelcome to it when she tells your father."
And William's proud spirits dropped.
Then came the opening of the fateful door and heavy steps descending thestairs.
William's mother had returned from her weekly visit to her friend. Shewas placing her umbrella in the stand as Aunt Emily, hatted and coatedand carrying a bag, descended. William's father had just awakened fromhis peaceful Sunday afternoon slumber, and, hearing his wife, had comeinto the hall.
Aunt Emily fixed her eye upon him.
"Will you be good enough to procure a conveyance?" she said. "After theindignities to which I have been subjected in this house I refuse toremain in it a moment longer."
Quivering with indignation she gave details of the indignities to whichshe had been subjected. William's mother pleaded, apologised, coaxed.William's father went quietly out to procure a conveyance. When hereturned she was still talking in the hall.
"A crowd of vulgar little boys," she was saying, "and horrible indecentplacards all over the room."
He carried her bag down to the cab.
"And me in my state of health," she said as she followed him. From thecab she gave her parting shot.
"And if this horrible thing hadn't happened, I might have stayed withyou all the winter and perhaps part of the spring."
William's father wiped his brow with his handkerchief as the cab droveoff.
"How dreadful!" said his wife, but she avoided meeting his eye."It's--it's _disgraceful_ of William," she went on with sudden spirit."You must speak to him."
"I will," said his father determinedly. "William!" he shouted sternlyfrom the hall.
William's heart sank.
"She's told," he murmured, his last hope gone.
"You'd better go and get it over," advised Henry.
"William!" repeated the voice still more fiercely.
Henry moved nearer the window, prepared for instant flight if thevoice's owner should follow it up the stairs.
"Go on," he urged. "He'll only come up for you."
William slowly removed the barricade and descended the stairs. He hadremembered to take off the crown and dressing gown, but his one-sidedmoustache still hung limply over his mouth.
His father was standing in the hall.
"What's that horrible thing on your face?" he began.
"Whiskers," answered William laconically.
His father accepted the explanation.
"Is it true," he went on, "that you actually took your friends into youraunt's room without permission and hung vulgar placards around it?"
William glanced up into his father's face and suddenly took hope. Mr.Brown was no actor.
"Yes," he admitted.
"It's disgraceful," said Mr. Brown, "_disgraceful_! That's all."
But it was not quite all. Something hard and round slipped intoWilliam's hand. He ran lightly upstairs.
"Hello!" said Henry, surprised. "That's not taken long. What----"
William opened his hand and showed something that shone upon hisextended palm.
"Look!" he said. "Crumbs! Look!" It was a bright half-crown.
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