Various other members of the Bolshevist Society appeared, filled with wrath and lamenting vanished treasures.
“It can’t be burglars,” said Robert, “because why only us?”
“Do you think someone in the Government found out about us being Bolshevists and is trying to intimidate us?”
Jameson Jameson thought this very likely, and they discussed it excitedly in the middle of the road, some hatless, some hatted, all talking breathlessly. Then at the other end of the road appeared a group of boys. They were happy, rollicking boys. They all carried bags of sweets which they ate lavishly and handed round to their friends equally lavishly. One held a camera—or the remains of a camera—whose mechanism the entire party had just been investigating. One more had a large wrist-watch upon a small wrist. One walked (or rather leapt) upon a silver-topped walking-stick. One, the quietest of the group, was smoking a cigarette. At the side near the ditch about half a dozen rode intermittently upon a bicycle. The descent of the bicycle and its cargo into the ditch was greeted with roars of laughter. They were very happy boys. They sang as they walked.
THEN AT THE OTHER END OF THE ROAD APPEARED A GROUP
OF BOYS. THEY WERE HAPPY, ROLLICKING BOYS.
“We’ve been to the pictures.”
“In the best seats.”
“Bought lots of sweets and a mouth-organ.”
“We’ve got a bicycle, an’ a camera, an’ two watches, an’ a fountain-pen, an’ a razor, an’ a football, an’ lots of things.”