“A man what looks after people’s clothes,” repeated William firmly, “or—or a fireman, or a policeman, or a postman, or servin’ in a shop. Why,” with growing cheerfulness, “we’ll be able to find hundreds an’ hundreds of things for him to do.”
“He only wants one,” said Douglas mildly.
“What’ll we start on?” said Ginger.
William assumed his frown of generalship and mentally surveyed the field of operation.
“Well,” he said at last, “I’ll try’n get him a job as a man what drives a motor car, an’ Ginger try’n get him one as a gardener, an’ Henry try’n get him as a man what looks after people’s clothes, an’ Douglas as a man what looks after people what aren’t quite right in their head, an’ we’ll have a meetin’ in the ole barn after tea an’ tell how we’ve got on ... an’ if we’ve all got him work, of course,” he added with his unfailing optimism, “we’ll let him choose.”
******
William began to make tentative efforts at lunch.
“When are we goin’ to have a car?” he demanded innocently.
“Not while I’m alive,” answered his father.
William considered this in silence for some minutes, then asked: