“What a heroine! How brave! How psychic!” they murmured as they went homewards.
“What a thrilling data it will make,” said little Miss Simky, who had now recovered from her hysterics and was feeling quite cheerful.
******
William was creeping downstairs. It was too windy for him to use his pear tree and he was going out by way of the dining-room window. He was dressed in an overcoat over his pyjamas and he held in his arms ten small apples which were his contribution to the feast and which he had secretly abstracted from the loft during the day. Bang!—rattle—rattle—rattle!—— Three of them escaped his encircling arms and dropped noisily from stair to stair.
“Crumbs!” muttered William aghast.
THE OUTLAWS STARED AT EACH OTHER, AND THEIR HAIR
STOOD ON END. “A GHOST!” WHISPERED HENRY WITH
CHATTERING TEETH.
No one, however, appeared to have heard. The house was still silent and sleeping. William gathered up his three apples and dropped two more in the process—fortunately upon the mat. He looked round anxiously. His arms seemed inadequate for ten apples, but he had promised ten apples for the feast and he must provide them. His pockets were already full of biscuits.
He looked round the moonlit hall. Ah, Robert’s “overflow bag!” It was on one of the chairs. Robert had been staying with a friend and had returned late that night. He had taken his suit case upstairs and flung the small and shabby bag that he called his “overflow bag” down on a chair. It was still there.
Good! It would do to hold the apples. William opened it. There were a few things inside, but William couldn’t stay to take them out. There was plenty of room for the apples anyway. He shoved them in, took up his bag, and made his way to the dining-room window.