"Let's pray for something for you now. What d'you want?"
"I want a bicycle. Ye know what I want."
"Oh, no, you don't, Bert Benbow!" said George. "You've got to want something safer than a bike. Suppose it comes tumbling down like the penknife did! We shall be dam well killed."
Tertius Ingpen could not suppress a snorting giggle.
"I want a bike," Bert insisted. "And I don't want nothin' else."
The two bigger boys moved vaguely away from the window, and the little religionist followed them in silence, ready to supplicate for whatever they should decide.
"All right," George agreed. "We'll pray for a bicycle. But we'd better all stand as close as we can to the wall, under the spouting, in case."
The ceremonial was recommenced.
"No," Ingpen murmured. "I'm not being God this time. It won't run to it."
Footsteps were heard on the lawn behind the swing. Ingpen slid down and Edwin jumped down. Johnnie Orgreave was approaching.