‘What?’ screamed George.
Explanation followed. It appeared that George also did not care two pins about the beastly mouse, and they parted coldly. George walked quickly down the road. He’d suddenly remembered what Ethel had said about the parrot yesterday. He’d get her one. . . . He’d give it her in the same way as she said that her friend’s friend had given one to her. She’d seemed to think that there was something very graceful about it. It would please her. He’d hurry home now so as to do it before Hector thought of it. . . .
William rejoined the others in the summer-house.
‘Takin’ your mouth-organs an’ trumpets off you,’ he said bitterly, ‘an’ carin’ more about someone bein’ ill than someone dyin’. An’ she’s not even reely ill, either. If I get a chance,’ he added darkly, ‘I’ll make ’em buy you new mouth-organs an’ trumpets, an’ make her give me back my bow an’ arrer.’
‘Well, you aren’t likely to get a chance,’ said the victims without much gratitude, ‘an’ the thing to do now is to try’n find a few more animals for lecturin’ on. A dead dormouse an’ a few insecks isn’t much.’
William considered this a minute in silence, then he said:
‘Tell you what. We’ll put up a notice askin’ people to lend us an’mals or give us an’mals like what they do to the zoo.’
This suggestion seemed to infuse new life into them. Their gloom departed.
‘Who’ll write it an’ where’ll we put it?’ said Ginger.
‘I’ll write it,’ said William, ‘an’ we’ll put it on the side gatepost. Quite a lot of people go along the lane by the side gate. We’ll put it up an’ then we’ll go out’n look for some more int’restin’ insecks.’
‘If we all go out,’ objected Ginger, ‘there’ll be no one to take the an’mals when they bring them.’
The Outlaws tried to visualise a queue of people waiting by the side gate each in charge of a rare and interesting animal, but even with their optimism the vision lacked reality.
‘Of course,’ admitted William, ‘it’s jus’ possible that no one’ll see it – at least no one what’s got an an’mal or at least no one what’s got an an’mal what they want to lend us. It doesn’t hardly seem worth while any of us stayin’ behind jus’ on the chance when we might be out catchin’ int’restin’ insecks.’
‘Let’s put somethin’ on the notice,’ suggested Ginger, ‘tellin’ ’em to take ’em to the summer-house an’ leave ’em there.’
‘Yes,’ said William sarcastically, ‘an’ havin’ ’em eatin’ up or fightin’ our insecks. You don’ know what sort of wild creatures they may bring – all fightin’ each other an’ eatin’ each other up in the summer-house. ’Sides, you can see the summer-house from the road an’ we’ll be gettin’ ’em all stolen by thieves what see them as they pass. No, I vote we shut up the summer-house while we’re away an’ put somethin’ on the notice tellin’ ’em where to leave them. They can leave ’em somewhere where they can’t be seen from the road.’ He pondered the problem in silence for a few seconds, frowning thoughtfully, then his face cleared. ‘I know . . . we’ll tell ’em to put ’em on the seat in the back garden, ’cause no one can see that from the road an’ if it’s somethin’ wild they can tie it up.’
This seemed to the Outlaws an excellent solution of the problem, and William went indoors to write out the notice. Soon he emerged carrying it and wearing the complacent smile of successful authorship.
‘Here it is,’ he said with modest pride. ‘All right, isn’t it?’
They gathered round to look. It read as follows:
‘mister william brown is going to lekcher on anmals and will be gratful to anyone who will give or lend him anmals to be lekchered on mister william brown will take grate care of them mister william brown is out now lookin for valubul insex but will be back before dinner mister william brown will be glad if people givin him anmals to be lekchered on will put them on the seat in the back garden an tie them up if they are savvidge anmals cause of doin damidge an eatin things reely wild anmals should have cages as mister william browns father will be mad with him if dammidge is done to the garden by wild animals lent or given him for his lekcher if anmals are lent him will they kinly have a label with the address of their home so as mister william brown the lekcherer on anmais may bring them home after they have been lekchered on things like hedgehogs or porkquipines must be fetched mister william brown is a very interestin lekcherer an anyone may kinly come an listen to him who likes if the summerhouse is full peple may come an look at him thru the window.’
The other Outlaws were less impressed by this than was its author. Ginger voiced their feelings.
‘Good deal about you in it,’ he commented, ‘an’ not much about us.’
‘Well, who’s the lecturer?’ demanded William with spirit, ‘me or you?’
‘Yes,’ said Ginger, ‘an’ who works jus’ as hard as you or harder gettin’ things ready?’
William soothed their feelings by adding a footnote to his notice:
‘mister william browns vallubal assistunts are ginger and douglas.’
‘WHO’S THE LECTURER?’ DEMANDED WILLIAM WITH SPIRIT. ‘ME OR YOU?’
Conciliated by this they helped William to pin the notice on the side gate and sallied forth with him in search of insects.
A short time before their return, Hector appeared looking very hot and breathless. He held a parrot in a cage. He had cycled frenziedly into the nearest town for it and he had spent practically his last penny on it. He came round to the back of the house. Ethel’s window was, he believed, at the back of the house. There he found a garden seat conveniently situated. He put the parrot upon that and tiptoed to the side door. He had decided to do the whole graceful action as Ethel’s friend’s friend had done it. If Ethel was touched at second hand, as it were, by the action as performed by her friend’s friend, how much more would she be touched when it was actually done to her.
He slipped a letter quietly through the letter-box. In the letter he said that if she would look out of the window she would see upon the garden seat a little friend who had come to keep her company. Then, still hot and breathless, but smiling fatuously to himself, he tiptoed away.
Hardly had he disappeared when the Outlaws returned. The expedition had not been, upon the whole, a great success. They had only found one species of caterpillar that William did not already possess. They carried it carefully in a little tin which contained also a large amount of greenery for its nourishment.
‘Well, we’ve not found much,’ said Douglas despondently.
‘No,’ said William, ‘but – but someone might’ve brought an animal for us while we’ve been away.’
‘Yes, an’ they mightn’t,’ said Douglas. ‘I bet you anythin’ that we find that ole garden seat as empty as we left it.’
‘An’ I bet we find somethin’ put on it,’ said William with gallant but unconvinced optimism.
They turned the corner of the house and stood there transfixed for a moment with rapture and amazement.
There upon the garden seat was a parrot in a cage.
Recovering from their paralysis they rushed to it and bore it off in triumph to the summer-house.
‘Well,’ said William deeply touched and with his faith in human nature entirely restored. ‘I do call that decent of somebody.’
‘An’ no labels on,’ said Ginger, ‘that means we can keep it. They’ve given it.’
They crowded round their acquisition, still half incredulous of their amazing good fortune.
‘Someone must’ve come down the lane an’ seen the notice,’ said William, ‘an’ then gone home to fetch their parrot to give us. P’raps it’d belonged to some relation what’d died an’ they din’t know what to do with it or p’raps’ – hopefully – ‘it uses such bad language that they din’t like to have it in the house.’
As if intensely amused by the idea the parrot uttered a shrill scream of laughter and when its paroxysm of mirth was over said wi
th deep feeling: ‘Go away. I hate you.’
This so delighted the Outlaws that they crowded round it again hoping it would repeat it, but though it would whistle and make the sound of a cork coming out of a bottle and utter a most offensive snigger, it refused to oblige the Outlaws by telling them again that it hated them.
‘Wonder what they eat,’ said Ginger still gazing enraptured at their new pet.
‘Well, don’t you start givin’ it any of your berries,’ said William sternly. Then looking round: ‘I say where’s that tin with my caterpillar in? Who’s took it?’
‘You left it on the garden seat when we fetched the parrot in,’ said Douglas, ‘I saw you.’
They hurried out to the garden seat.
It was empty.
‘Well, of all the cheek,’ said William indignantly, ‘someone’s pinched it.’
‘Never mind it,’ said Ginger, ‘we’ve got a parrot. What’s a caterpillar when we’ve got a parrot?’
‘I want that caterpillar,’ said William doggedly, ‘I’d thought of a lot of things to say about it an’ I’m goin’ to get another. Come on. Let’s shut up the parrot in the summer-house where no one can steal it an’ all go out to look for another caterpillar.’
Without much enthusiasm they agreed.
‘An’ what I’d like to know,’ said William darkly, ‘is where that caterpillar is.’
That caterpillar was a matter of fact in Ethel’s bedroom, being flung, tin box and all, into the fireplace in a fit of temper. A housemaid had found Hector’s note on the mat and taken it up to Ethel’s room. Ethel’s room did not happen to overlook the garden. She read the note with a smile almost as fatuous as Hector’s. She remembered what she had told them about the parrot. Suppose he’d remembered the story and brought her a parrot. ‘A little friend to keep you company.’ . . . It might, of course, be a kitten or a puppy. . . . Anyway, it was very, very sweet of him. She opened her door and, still smiling, called to the housemaid who was sweeping the stairs.
‘Emma, will you go out and bring me something that you’ll find upon the garden seat.’
Emma went out and returned with a small tin. Ethel’s smile faded.
‘Was this all that there was upon the garden seat?’ she asked.
‘Yes, miss. There was nothing else.’
Ethel returned to her room and opened the tin. Inside were several leaves and a big furry caterpillar. There was nothing else.
‘Oh, that’s his idea of being funny, is it?’ said Ethel viciously. ‘Well, it’s not mine.’
And it was then that she flung the tin furiously into the fireplace.
At that very moment had she but known it, the faithful George was tiptoeing softly round the house bearing a parrot in a cage. He too was hot and breathless. He too had cycled into the neighbouring market town for the parrot. He too had spent practically his last penny on it. He too had decided to leave it on the garden seat and drop into the letter-box a note about a ‘little friend to keep her company.’ He entered the back garden. There was a convenient garden seat. He put down the cage upon it, slipped his note into the letter box and went home smiling to himself. How pleased she’d be about it. . . . It would give him a pull over that ass Hector. Near the gate he met the Outlaws carrying a tin. They passed each other as usual without any sign of recognition. Both Ginger and Hector and Douglas and George, whatever stage of cordiality or the reverse their relations might have attained at home, made it a point of honour to pass each other on the public highway as if they had never seen each other before. At present relations at home were not cordial.
‘Smilin’,’ muttered Douglas bitterly when he had passed. ‘Yes, ’s all right for him to go about smilin’ – takin’ people’s mouth-organs off them an’ ru’nin’ them.’
‘Funny we only caught one of those caterpillars again,’ said William meditatively.
‘Well, one’s enough to lecture on, I suppose,’ said Douglas rather irritably. The sight of the fatuously smiling George had reminded him of his grievances. ‘I’d like to see someone take somethin’ of his away,’ he went on, little knowing how literally his wish was to be fulfilled.
‘An’ I’d saved up for that trumpet,’ said Ginger. ‘I don’t s’pose I’ll ever – what’s the matter?’
William, who was walking in front, had stopped suddenly on turning the corner of the house and was staring in blank amazement, eyes and mouth wide open.
‘There – there’s another parrot on the seat,’ he said faintly. ‘Seems – seems sort of impossible but – look!’
They looked. Like William’s, their eyes and mouth opened wide in blank amazement.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said William still faintly as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. ‘It is another parrot, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Ginger also rather faintly, ‘it cert’nly is. Someone else must’ve passed the notice. Seems sort of funny they should all be givin’ us parrots, dun’t it?’
With a certain dazed bewilderment beneath their ecstasy the Outlaws approached this new ‘gift’.
‘Let’s take it in the summer-house an’ see if it talks to the other,’ said William.
They took it into the summer-house and the other parrot greeted it with a sardonic laugh. The latest comer gazed round the summer-house with a supercilious air and finally ejaculated, ‘Great Scott!’
Ginger drew a breath of delight but William, in whom familiarity with parrots was breeding contempt and who was becoming overcritical, merely said, ‘If that’s the worst bad language it knows it’s not goin’ to be very int’restin’.’ Then he looked about him. ‘Where’s that tin with the caterpillar in?’
‘You left it on the bench again, William,’ said Douglas.
They went out and stood around the empty bench.
‘Well,’ said William ‘it’s – it’s mos’ mysterious. Someone’s pinched this one too.’
Upstairs Ethel was hurling the second caterpillar and tin furiously into the fireplace.
‘Very funny, aren’t they?’ she was saying. ‘ “A little friend to keep you company.” And two caterpillars. Oh, yes, it’s a great joke, isn’t it. All right, my young friends, all right.’
‘Well, all I can say is,’ William was saying, ‘that it’s one of the mos’ mysterious things what’ve ever happened to me in all my life. Two parrots give me an’ two tins of caterpillars stole off me in the same mornin’. . . but’s no good goin’ out to find another now. There’s not time. We’ll jus’ have to have the lecture without it.’
It was late afternoon. Hector, still wearing his fatuous smile, came round the corner of the house. He’d expected a note of thanks before now. He felt that he couldn’t wait a minute longer without hearing an account of Ethel’s rapturous glee on the receipt of his present. He could imagine it, of course, but he wanted to hear someone telling him about it. ‘She was delighted’ . . . ‘So kind of you’ . . . ‘She was deeply touched’ . . . ‘She’s writing to you now’ . . . ‘She’s longing for the time when her quarantine will be over and she can see you and thank you properly’ . . . were a few of the phrases that occurred to him. . . .
A housemaid opened the door.
‘I just – er – called to see if the parrot was settling down all right,’ said Hector in an ingratiating manner.
‘The parrot?’ said the housemaid in surprise.
‘Yes, the parrot that arrived this morning.’
‘No parrot arrived this morning, sir,’ said the housemaid.
It was Hector’s turn to be surprised.
‘W-what?’ he said, ‘are – are you sure.’
‘Quite sure, sir,’ said the housemaid. ‘There’s no parrot in the house at all.’
‘Not – er – not in Miss Brown’s room,’ said Hector desperately.
‘No, sir, I’ve just been there.’
Dazedly Hector walked away. Of course the thing was as plain as daylight. What a fool he’d been to leave the thing out there on the seat. Some tram
p had come back to the back door and run off with it. And he’d spent all the money he’d got on it. . . . Wasn’t it the rottenest— He stopped and stared. He’d wandered disconsolately round to the other side of the house and there, just outside the closed door of the summer-house, stood William with a parrot in a cage.
The lecture was over. The Outlaws had collected a small and unruly audience of children who’d nothing else to do but no one had enjoyed it except William, who had lectured to his own entire satisfaction and was now feeling tired and hoarse. He was, moreover, beginning to find his parrots more of a liability than an asset. All attempts at closer acquaintance with them had been resisted so promptly that both Ginger and Douglas had had to improvise bandages for bleeding fingers from very grimy handkerchiefs, and William’s nose had been bitten almost in two while he was gazing fondly at his new possessions through the bars. Also there was the economic side of the question to consider. William had been down to the village to ascertain the price of parrot food and had come back aghast at the result.
‘We simply can’t afford to keep ’em,’ he said.
‘Well, I know I can’t. I’d have nothin’ left for myself at all out of the bit of pocket money they give me.’
‘Can’t they live on scraps an’ things?’ said Ginger.
‘Oh, yes,’ said William, ‘I guess you’d like to try feedin’ ’em on pois’nous berries same as what you did with the dormouse.’
‘Well, it was mine, wasn’t it?’ said Ginger with spirit.
‘Yes, but this isn’t,’ said William, ‘this was given me to lecture on an’ I’m not goin’ to have it killed with pois’nous berries by you.’
‘What are you goin’ to do with it, then?’ said Ginger, ‘if you say you can’t buy it proper food?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ said William irritably. Like most other lecturers he was suffering the reaction from his expenditure of eloquence.
At this point the two parrots began to hold a screaming contest till William was forced to take George’s outside and close the door, whereupon the clamour died down. It was at this moment that Hector came round the corner of the house. His first impulse was to hurl himself upon William and accuse him of stealing his parrot. But on approaching nearer he saw that it was not his parrot. It was not his parrot and it was not his cage. His expression changed. He approached William in a manner that can only be described as ingratiating.
William the Good Page 14
