Ginger considered thoughtfully.
“All right,” he said laconically.
William walked on to the Police Station without turning round.
“Well?” whispered Robert sternly that evening.
“I took him, Robert—least—I started off with him, but when I’d got there he’d gone. I looked round and he’d jus’ gone. I couldn’t see him anywhere, so I came home.”
WILLIAM SAT IN THE BARN GAZING DOWN AT JUMBLE.
“Well, if he comes to this house again,” said Robert, “I’ll wring his neck, so just you look out.” Two days later William sat in the barn on an upturned box, chin in hands, gazing down at Jumble. A paper bag containing Jumble’s ration for the day lay beside him. It was his day of ownership. The collecting of Jumble’s “scraps” was a matter of infinite care and trouble. They consisted in—a piece of bread that William had managed to slip into his pocket during breakfast, a piece of meat he had managed to slip into his pocket during dinner, a jam puff stolen from the larder and a bone removed from the dustbin. Ginger roamed the fields with his bow and arrow while William revelled in the ownership of Jumble. To-morrow William would roam the fields with bow and arrow and Ginger would assume ownership of Jumble.
William had spent the morning teaching Jumble several complicated tricks, and adoring him more and more completely each moment. He grudged him bitterly to Ginger, but—the charm of the bow and arrow was strong. He wished to terminate the partnership, to resign Ginger’s bow and arrow and take the irresistible Jumble wholly to himself. He thought of the bow and arrow in the library cupboard; he thought, planned, plotted, but could find no way out. He did not see a man come to the door of the barn and stand there leaning against the door-post watching him. He was a tall man with a thin, lean face and a loose-fitting tweed suit. As his eyes lit upon William and Jumble they narrowed suddenly and his mobile lips curved into a slight, unconscious smile. Jumble saw him first and went towards him wagging his tail. William looked up and scowled ungraciously. The stranger raised his hat.
“Good afternoon,” he said politely, “Do you remember what you were thinking about just then?”