Ginger was shown and the Honourable Marmaduke’s smile became less weary.
Douglas was shown and the Honourable Marmaduke almost (not quite) laughed. He certainly murmured. “I say.... By Jove, you know ... isn’t it? What?” Even William realised that no higher praise could be expected of him than that.
“I do wish my Vahlet Elizabeth was here,” said Mrs. Bott. “She’d be sow int’rested—but, there, I’ve always kept her gorded from common children.”
Then the last shrouded figure threw off its covering and jumped excitedly into the air. It was dressed in stays and small frilled knickers. Hair, face, arms and legs were covered with blacking (William had “borrowed” a good supply from the store cupboard. He was never a boy for half measures).
“I’m a Nindian,” squeaked Violet Elizabeth, leaping up and down joyfully in her scanty attire. “I’m a native Indian in a native-Indian coschume an’ I’m goin’ to do a native-Indian dance. I’m a Nindian. I’m a Nindian!”
With a scream that rent the very heavens Mrs. Bott made a grab at her erring child.
At that moment from the other end of the field came a bellow of rage that drowned even the voice of Mrs. Bott. The Outlaws, paralysed with terror, saw the dread form of their foe advancing upon them wrathfully across the field. Farmer Jenks had returned home unexpectedly.
“Grr-r-r-r-r,” he roared as he ran. “I’ll—I’ll—I’ll—Gu-r-r-r-r-r ... Ye young.... I’ll ... G-r-r-r-r-r ... At ’em, Rover! Kill ’em, Rover! Eat ’em, Rover! Ye young ... I’ll.... Gr-r—r-r-r!”
The Outlaws awaited no explanation. Like so many flashes of lightning they were through the hole in the hedge and already half way to the stile.
After them with little gasps of “By Jove! I say, you know!” panted the languid aristocrat. Seeing Rover behind him he shed his languidness and sprinted as he had never sprinted in his aristocratic life before. Rover pursued them to the stile then returned thoughtfully chewing a piece of the aristocratic nether garments.