William drew his mouth down and screwed up his eyes into a hideous contortion.
“Do I now?” he said as clearly as he could through his distorted mask of twisted muscles.
Ginger looked at him dispassionately.
“You look like a kinder monkey now,” he said.
William took the long knitted scarf that was at the bottom of the bath-chair and wound it round and round his head and face till only his horn-rimmed spectacles could be seen.
“Do I now?” he said in a muffled voice.
Ginger stared at him in critical silence for a minute and said:
“Yes, you do now. At least you look’s if you might be anything now.”
“All right,” said William in his far-away muffled voice. “Pretend I’m an old man. Wheel me back now ... slowly, mind! ’cause I’m an old man.”
They began the return journey. Ginger walked very slowly, chiefly because it was uphill and he was still out of breath. William leant back feebly in his chair enjoying the rôle of aged invalid, his horn-rimmed spectacles peering out with an air of deep wisdom from a waste of woollen muffler.