Francis searched in his mind silent for a few minutes for a suitable term of opprobrium.
"Freckles!" he hissed across the bed at last.
"Softy!" returned William.
This was warfare after his own heart.
"'F I got hold of you, I could throw you out of the window."
"You couldn't. You'd just roll about. You couldn't throw anything. You're too fat."
"I told you what I'd do if you called me that again."
"Tell-tale! Tell-tale! Silly ole tell-tale!"
Still the deadly insults were being hurled across the bed in whispers, and still Great-Aunt Jane slept.
"I could bash your old freckled face in," whispered Francis.