“Handin’ cakes an’ telling tales,” put in Ginger to complete the picture.
“What do they want goin’ havin’ garden parties for?” said William fiercely.
Henry, who was rather “up” in the Murdoch news owing to the fact that Mrs. Murdoch had been to tea with his mother the day before, answered him.
“Well, they’ve got a sort of cousin what’s famous comin’ to stay with them an’ they want to sort of show him off,” he said, translating freely from the conversation he had overheard the day before, “so they’re goin’ to ask everyone to meet him at a garden party.”
“How’d he get famous?” said William with mournful interest.
“Writin’ plays,” said Henry.
William groaned.
“He’ll be worse than ever,” he said, referring not to the writer of plays but to the perfect little gentleman.
The meeting broke up without having arrived at any satisfactory plan, though Henry still cherished the haunting idea and Douglas still considered that something might be done in the pit and wild beast line.
The next day the famous cousin arrived at the Murdoch’s and was proudly paraded through the village by Georgie resplendent in a new white suit and a smile that was more smug and complacent than ever. Close observers might have noticed that the famous cousin looked bored.