“Jumble’s mine. You can jus’ sell your own dogs,” said William, sternly.
“We’ve not got any.”
“Well, then, sell ’em.”
“That’s sense, isn’t it?” said Ginger. “Jus’ kindly tell us how to sell dogs we’ve not got—— Jus’——”
But William was suddenly tired of this type of verbal warfare.
“Let’s do something—let’s have a show.”
“Wot of?” said Ginger without enthusiasm. “We’ve got nothing to show, an’ who’ll pay us money to look at nothing. Jus’ tell us that.”
“We’ll get something to show—I know,” he said suddenly, “a c’lection of insecks. Anyone’d pay to see an exhibition of a c’lection of insecks, wun’t they? I don’t s’pose there are many c’lections of insecks, anyway. It’d be interestin’. Everyone’s interested in insecks.”
For a minute the Outlaws wavered.
“Who’d c’lect ’em?” said Henry, dubiously.