“Little boy, you haven’t seen my Twinkie anywhere, have you? My darling Twinkie, he’s gone. Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie-ee-ee!”
The next four Saturdays he successfully changed Twinkie-Luky’s place of abode. On arrival at Miss Cliff’s, Twinkie made immediately for his favourite cushion and went to sleep. On arrival at Miss Amelia Blake’s Luky did the same. The owners became almost accustomed to the week’s mysterious absence.
“He’s gone away again, Mrs. Brown,” Miss Blake would call over the fence. “I only hope he’ll come back as he did last time. You haven’t seen him, have you? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee-ee!”
Then William became bored. At first the glorious consciousness of duty done and the salving of his sense of guilt had upheld him, but he began to feel that this could not go on for ever. When all is said and done, Saturday is Saturday—a golden holiday in a drab procession of schooldays. William began to think that if he had to spend every Saturday of his life stalking Twinkie-Luky and conveying him secretly from one end of the village to the other, he might just as well not have been born——
*****
He had put Twinkie-Luky in the basket and was setting off with it down the road. It was very hot and Twinkie-Luky was very heavy and William was very cross. He had just come to the conclusion that some other solution must be found to the Twinkie-Luky problem when he heard the sound of the ’bus that made its slow and noisy progress from the neighbouring country town to the village in which William lived.
A ride in the ’bus would save him a long, hot walk with the heavy basket, and by some miraculous chance he had the requisite penny in his pocket. And anyhow, he was sick of the whole thing. He hailed the ’bus by swinging the basket round and putting out his tongue at the driver. The driver put his out in return, and the ’bus stopped. William, holding the basket, entered. The ’bus was very full, but there was one empty seat. William had taken this seat before he realised with horror that on one side of him sat Miss Amelia Blake and on the other Miss Cliff.
The ’bus had started again, and it was too late to get out. He went rather pale, pretended not to see them, stared in front of him with a set, stern expression on his face, and clasped the basket containing Twinkie-Luky tightly to his bosom. Miss Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff did not “know” each other. But they both knew William.
“Good morning, little boy,” said Miss Cliff.
“Mornin’,” muttered William, still staring straight in front of him.