“Crumbs!” said William, “Talk about bad luck! I’m simply statin’ a fact. Talk about bad luck!”
At that minute the pram appeared, charging down the hill at full speed with a cargo of small boys. At the bottom of the hill it overturned into a ditch accompanied by its cargo. To judge from its appearance, it had passed the afternoon performing the operation.
“That’s my pram!” said William to the cargo, as it emerged, joyfully, from the ditch.
“Garn! S’ours! We found it.”
“Well, I left it there.”
“Come on! We’ll fight for it,” said Ginger, rolling up his sleeves in a businesslike manner. The other Outlaws followed his example. The pram’s cargo eyed them appraisingly.
“Oh, all right! Take your rotten old pram!” they said at last.
Douglas placed the baby in its seat and William thoughtfully put up the hood to shield his charge as far as possible from the curious gaze of the passers-by. His charge was now chewing the pram cover and talking excitedly to itself. With a “heart steeled for any fate” William turned the corner into his own road. The baby’s mother was standing at his gate.
“There you are!” she called. “I was getting quite anxious. Thank you so much, dear.”
BUT THAT IS WHAT SHE SAID BEFORE SHE SAW THE BABY!