“And he’ll prob’ly get worse the more we know him,” said Henry.
“Him an’ his white suits!” repeated William morosely.
All these fears proved to be well founded.
As Ginger had predicted, they all had to have him to tea, and on each occasion Georgie remained clean and tidy and immaculate in his white suit and said at the end to his host’s mother, “Yes, I told him not to. I said you wouldn’t like it.” And when the guest had departed the host’s mother said to the host:
“How I wish that you were a little more like Georgie Murdoch.”
Henry’s prediction was also fulfilled. For Georgie did get worse the more they knew him. In addition to the vices of personal cleanliness and exquisite manners he possessed that of tale-bearing. He was a frequent visitor at the Outlaws’ houses. He would gaze at William’s mother with a wistful smile and say, “Please, Mrs. Brown, I’m so sorry to disturb you but I think I ought to tell you that William is paddling in the stream after you told him not to,” or, “Please, Mrs. Flowerdew, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but Ginger ’n’ Henry’s throwing mud at each other down the road an’ getting in such a mess. I thought you ought to know.”
And the Outlaws couldn’t get their own back. Georgie would never fight because it might dirty his suit, and any personal attacks upon Georgie (however mild) were faithfully reported by the attacked in person to the parent of the attacker.
“Please, Mrs. Brown, William’s just pushed me over and hurt me.” “Please, Mrs. Flowerdew, Ginger’s just banged into me and made quite a bruise on my arm.” Moreover the Outlaws seemed to have a strong fascination for Georgie. He followed them around, watching their pursuits from a safe and cleanly distance, generally eating chocolate creams which he never offered to the Outlaws, and which never seemed to leave any traces on his face. Whenever any elders were in hearing Georgie would raise his voice and say in a tone of horror, “Oh, you naughty boy! What will your mother say?” and having attracted the elder’s attention and interference he would say sorrowfully, “I told him not to. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
Yet such was the power of his white suit, his clean face, his sweet smile, his beautiful manners that Georgie was always referred to by the grown-ups of the neighbourhood as “Such a dear little boy.”
The Outlaws bore it as long as they could, and then they held a meeting to decide what could be done about it. It was not on the whole a very successful meeting. William kept muttering, “We’ve gotter do something ... him and his white suits.”