“I’m thinking a way,” he said at last. “I’ve nearly got it. Just walk home with me, will you? I’ll give you something when we get there,” he bribed with pathetic pleading, noting William’s reluctant face. “I want to tell you my idea.”
They walked down the lane together. The young man talked volubly and earnestly. William’s mouth opened wide with amazement and disapproving horror. The words “white rats” were repeated frequently. Finally William nodded his head, as though acquiescing.
“I s’pose you’re balmy on her,” he said resignedly at the end, “like what folks are in books. I want ’em with long tails, mind.”
“WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE MOST IN THE WORLD?” HE SAID SUDDENLY. “WHITE RATS!” SAID WILLIAM WITHOUT A MOMENT’S HESITATION.
William was not unacquainted with the tender passion. He had been to the pictures. He had read books. He had seen his elder brother Robert pass several times through every stage of the consuming fever. He had himself decided in moments of deep emotion to marry the little girl next door as soon as he should reach manhood’s estate. He was willing to further his new friend’s suit by every legitimate means, but he was rather aghast at the means suggested. Still—white rats were white rats.
The next morning William assumed his expression of shining virtue—the expression he reserved for special occasions.
“You goin’ shoppin’ this mornin’?” he inquired politely of Ethel.
“You know I am,” said Ethel shortly.
“Shall I come with you to carry parcels an’ things?” said William unctuously.