“An’ I kep’ tellin’ my father an’ my brother that their clothes looked to me’s if they wanted brushin’ or cleanin’ or pressin’ or somethin’ an’ I was goin’ to tell ’em about this man what’s come an’ do it for them but,” mournfully, “they din’t give me a chance to get’s far as that. Seems to me that it’s very funny that one can’t try’n help a poor man what’s out of work without bein’ treated like that about it.”
Again the Outlaws murmured sympathy, then Douglas spoke up.
“I thought I’d try’n get him as a sort of man nurse so I acted like I was goin’ queer in my head.”
“What did they do?” said William.
An expression of agony passed over Douglas’ face.
“Gave me Gregory powder,” he said, “an’ I couldn’t sort of seem to make ’em understand I was actin’ queer in the head. They seemed to think I was actin’ ordin’ry. Anyway when they got reely mad I had to stop it ’cause I was afraid they’d start on me with more Gregory powder, an’ it’s a wonder I’m not poisoned dead with the first lot. It’s more diff’cult than you’d think,” he ended meditatively, “to make folks think you’re queer in the head.”
“So nobody’s got nothing,” William summed up the situation sadly and ungrammatically.
But Ginger was more cheerful.
“Well, there’s lots other houses in the village ’sides ours,” he said, “an’ there’s lots other fam’lies in the village ’sides ours. I votes we start on them. Seems to me that people outside your own fam’ly always give you more ’f a chance to explain what you mean than people in your fam’ly. They don’t start bein’ mad at you before you’ve reely got to what you want to say like people in your own fam’ly do.”
The Outlaws considered the suggestion in silence. Then William pointed out its obvious disadvantage.