Joan’s eyes shone.
“Oh, thank you, William darling.”
*****
Joan had taken the special oath. It had consisted of the words: “I will not betray the secrets of the Outlaws, an’ I will stick up for the Outlaws till death do us part.”
The last phrase was an inspiration of Henry’s, who had been to his cousin’s wedding the week before.
They sat down on logs or stacks of firewood or packing-cases to consider the question of Mr. Moss.
“First thing is,” said William, with a business-like frown, “we’ve got to make people go to Mr. Moss.”
“Well, how can we?” objected Ginger. “Jus’ tell me that? How can we make people go to Moss’ when Mallards’ is halfpenny cheaper?”
“Same way as big shops make people go to them—they put up notices an’ things—they say their things is better than other shops’ things, an’ folks believes ’em.”
“Well, why should folks believe ’em?” said Ginger pugnaciously. Henry was engaged upon his last few pear drops and had no time for conversation. “Why should folks b’lieve ’em when they say they’re better than other shops? An’ how can we stick up notices an’ where an’ who’ll let us stick up notices? You don’t talk sense. You’re mad, that’s wot you are. First you go about calling folks murderers when you don’t know who they’ve murdered, nor nothin’ about it, an’ then you talk about stickin’ up notices when there isn’t anyone who’d let us stick up any notices, nor anyone who’d take any notice of notices wot we stuck up nor——”