Richmal Crompton

“ It would be best probably to work up to sheep gradually. Sitting on an upturned plant pot in his back yard, his chin on his hands, he frowningly considered the situation, while Jumble sat by him, leaning against the plant pot wearing a complacent simper, still seeing himself, alone and unaided, putting to flight vast hordes of large white animals. Yes, thought William, that had been the mistake—beginning with sheep instead of working up to them gradually. If he could begin on something small they could work up to sheep by degrees. ”

“ He blew a single blast on his whistle and then waited to see if Jumble would fly at the note of command to the other end of the field. William never knew whether Jumble would have flown at the note of command to the other end of the field; it is a question that must remain to all eternity unanswered. For no sooner had William emitted the note of command than a furious tornado dressed in a mauve suit tore down upon him, resolving itself as it became calmer into an elderly gentleman who lived in the brown house. ”

“ William went downstairs slowly. Something of his rapture and excitement was leaving him. Cold reality was placing its icy grip upon his heart. He began to wonder what would happen to him when they discovered the nature and cause of his “flood,” and whether the state to which the refugees were reducing the house would also be laid to his charge. He waded out to the hose pipe and had another fruitless struggle with the tap. ”

“ It was obvious that Miss Poll was torn between the joy of wearing a coat in which she considered herself to look “smarter” than in anything else she possessed and the impropriety of wearing for a festal occasion a garment borrowed for the obsequies of the very removed cousin. To William’s relief the coat won the day and after buttoning up the collar to give it an even smarter appearance than it had before and putting on a smart hat with a very red feather, she joined them at the door. ”

“ They couldn’t find any chalk so they made a little circle of test tubes around her and watched her with interest. Joan shut her eyes, stirred up the mixture in the crucible and chanted:
“Turn into a donkey,
Turn into a donkey,
Turn into a donkey,
Mr. Magician.”
Then she opened her eyes.
“It may be all wrong,” she admitted, “I’m only guessing how to do it. But if it’s a very good spell it may be all right.”
“Well, let’s go and have a look at him,” said William, “and if he’s still there we’ll come back and try again.” ”

“ A close observer might have gathered that at heart the Outlaws’ parents were almost as jubilant over Georgie’s downfall as were the Outlaws themselves.
The famous cousin, who was by the gate as William took his leave, managed to press a ten-shilling note into William’s hand.
“To be divided amongst your accomplices,” he murmured. “You surpassed my highest expectation. As artist to artist I tend you my congratulations.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ William gazed at them coldly.
“Not much like me,” he commented.
“Think not?” said the artist, “probably you have an idealised conception of your appearance.”
William looked at him suspiciously.
“I’ve not got anythin’ like what you said,” he remarked, “never even heard of it so I can’t have. Would you like a man to drive your motor-car?”
“I’ve not got a motor-car,” said the artist, busily engaged in putting finishing touches into his sketch.
“Well,” said William, “what about someone to brush your clothes?”
“I prefer my clothes unbrushed,” said the artist; “dust protects the material.” ”

“ I say, Georgie, you do make a fine King John.”
“Oh, I bet I’ll win the prize all right,” said Georgie complacently from beneath his mud.
The grown-ups sat in an expectant semicircle, smiling indulgently.
“I do so love to see little children acting,” said one. “They’re always so sweet and natural.”
“I wish you’d seen Georgie last Christmas,” murmured Georgie’s mother, “as Prince Charming in a little children’s pantomime we got up. I had his photograph taken. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”
Just then William and Ginger appeared. ”

“ Miss Poll tripped airily up to the door of the tent in her pink, pink frock, peeped in, saw the serried ranks of an audience with a vacant place in front of them, presumably for the entertainer, and skipping lightly in with a “So sorry to have kept you all waiting,” leapt at once into her first item—an imitation of a tipsy landlady, an item that Miss Poll herself considered the cream of her repertoire. ”

“ With Jumble still at his heels he entered the field.
“Now, Jumble,” he said sternly, “when I blow one blow on this whistle you drive ’em to the end of the field an’ when I blow two you drive ’em back again.” Jumble gave a short sharp bark, which William, ever optimistic, took to be one of complete understanding.
William drew in his breath then blew a piercing blast on his whistle. The nightmare sound rent the air. A sheep who was cropping grass turned and gazed at him reproachfully. The others took no notice. Jumble continued to chase butterflies. William sighed and repeated his instructions. ”

“ For Georgie was too busy with the famous cousin to be able to spare any time for the Outlaws, and the Outlaws could wallow in the mud, climb trees, and turn somersaults in the road to their heart’s content without hearing the shrill little refrain, “Oh, you naughty boys! what will your mothers say ... I told them not to do it ... I said you wouldn’t like it.”
I said “outside their homes.” For inside their homes things were if possible worse. For the interest of the whole village was, thanks to the visit of the famous cousin, now concentrated upon the Murdochs. ”

“ He and Farmer Jenks caught sight of the Outlaws simultaneously and neither could resist the temptation to make the most of the opportunity. Both flung themselves upon the Outlaws. The Outlaws fled round the lawn, pursued by Farmer Jenks and Mr. Galileo Simpkins. Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald went back to the drawing-room to have a few more hysterics, the Vicar’s wife dashed into the hall for the fire extinguisher and Maria watched proceedings with interest as she meditatively chewed the Vicar’s hedge. ”

“ Henry, not wishing to be left out of it, said with perfect good faith, “fifty” and William, with a vague [Pg 101] idea of being tactful, said “forty.” Miss Poll who looked, as a matter of fact, about forty-five, laughed shrilly.
“You children will have your joke,” she said, “now I wonder what I’d better do for them to start with? You know, what makes me so unique as an entertainer, children—and if I’d wanted to be I’d be famous now on the London stage—is that I’m entirely independent of such artificial aids as mechanical musical instruments and books of words and such things. ”

“ Freddie departed and they turned to William again.
“Better, dear?” they said again.
“Yes, thank you,” said William.
“What is this vert whatever it is that Freddie says he’s got?” said the dark-haired girl to the red-haired girl.
“Something to do with the backbone, I think,” said the red-haired girl vaguely. “You know they call things that haven’t any backbone invert something or other.”
“I suppose,” said the fair-haired girl to William, “that you were walking down the road and the attack came on suddenly and you came in here for help and succumbed before you could get help.” ”

“ But William was in a mood of joyous defiance.
“I don’t care,” he said, “I don’t care who knows. I don’t care who comes to fetch us home. We won’t go. We’ll climb trees an’ shoot at ’em and throw stones at ’em. I bet no one in the whole world’ll be able to catch us. I’m an Outlaw, I am,” he chanted. “I’m an Outlaw.”
Again his spirit infected his followers. They cheered lustily. “We’re Outlaws, we are,” they chanted, “we’re Outlaws.”
******
They sat under the largest tree on Ringers’ Hill. ”

“ William gazed around the room as if in search of inspiration. He met the gaze of Venus de Milo soaked in starch and leering through her enclosing glass; he [Pg 172] met the gaze of William Shakespeare soaked in water and knife powder and wearing his broken cup jauntily. Neither afforded him inspiration.
“It rises as I watch it—inch by inch,” shrilled the lady, “inch by inch! It’s terrible ... we’re marooned.... Oh, it’s horrible. There isn’t even a life belt in the house.”
William was conscious of a great relief at her explanation of the spreading sheet of water. ”

“ William crept across the field to the stile that led to the main road. Here his progress was barred by a group of three who stood talking by the stile. There was a tall pompous-looking man with a beard, a small woman and an elderly man.
“Oh, yes, we’ve quite settled in now,” the tall, pompous-looking man was saying. “We’ve got a resident patient with us—a Miss Polliter who is a chronic nervous case. We are rather uneasy at having to leave her all to-day with only the cook and house-boy. Unfortunately our housemaid left us suddenly yesterday but we trust that things will have gone all right. ”

“ Anything wrong? You’re the new house-boy, aren’t you?”
William realised that he was still wearing the overalls which the house-boy had given him. He gaped at the doctor and blinked nervously, wondering whether it wouldn’t be wiser to be the new house-boy as the doctor evidently thought he was. The doctor turned to his wife.
“Er—it is the new house-boy, dear, isn’t it?” he said.
“I think so,” said his wife doubtfully. “He only came this morning, you know, and Cook engaged him, and I hardly had time to look at him, but I think he is.... Yes, he’s wearing our overalls. What’s your name, boy?” ”

“ The reason had seemed to William wholly inadequate. He met boys every day of his life wearing headgear which was exactly identical with his and the sight failed to rouse him to hysterical fury. It was one of the many mysteries in which the behaviour of grown-up sisters was shrouded—not to be understood but possible to be utilised. Now he looked Miss Poll up and down and said ruminatingly, “Funny!” ”

“ Inside the lab. Maria grew more frisky still. She broke and ground into the carpet the test tubes that had formed Joan’s magic circle. She wrecked the bench and everything upon it. She kicked over an entire shelf of bottles.
“He’s mad,” said William, “he’s mad at bein’ a donkey an’ he doesn’t know how to turn himself back.”
“Say somethin’ to him,” urged Ginger.
William said something to him.
“If you can’t turn yourself back,” said William, “you’ll have to stay like you are. We can’t do anything more for you.” ”

“ And as William said, “We don’t want any food but blackberries an’ mushrooms an’ roots an’ things. People used to live on roots an’ I bet we’ll soon find some roots to live on. It’ll be quite easy to find what sort to eat and what sort not to eat. An’ we’ll kill rabbits an’ things an’ make fires an’ cook them. That’s what real Outlaws did, an’ we’re real Outlaws now. An’ we don’t want any clothes but what we’ve got. When they fall to pieces we’ll make some more out of the skins of rabbits we’ve killed to eat. ”

“ Let’s be Outlaws. Let’s be real Outlaws. Let’s go right away somewhere to a wood where no one’ll find us an’ live on blackberries an’ roots an’ things an’ if they come out to fetch us we’ll climb trees an’ hide or run away or shoot at ’em with bows and arrows. Let’s go’n’ live all the rest of our lives as Outlaws.”
And so infectious was William’s spirit, so hypnotic was William’s glorious optimism that the Outlaws cheered jubilantly and said, “Yes, let’s.... ”

“ Has the egregious Georgie any weaknesses?”
“Has he?” said William bitterly, “he tells tales an’ won’t play games an’——”
The famous cousin raised his hand.
“Pardon me,” he said, “those are vices, not weaknesses. In my sojourn with Georgie I have noticed two weaknesses. He will never own to ignorance even on the most abstruse subjects, and he is passionately fond of chocolate creams. Did you know that?”
“Y—yes. S’pose so,” said William, “but I don’t see how it will help.”
“Ah ... you must somehow make it help. A good general always utilises his enemy’s weak points.... ”