Having delivered himself of this speech, Nipper retired under the bedclothes, and began a series of mournful sounds. Now, though David was ready of speech and full of ideas, Bill, his twin, was a man of action. It was always David who thought of splendid schemes, but Bill who carried them out. Leaning far out of his bed he reached for one of his boots, and, taking a careful aim, landed it with a thud upon Nipper’s huddled figure. This brought forth Nipper’s own special performance and chief means of defence, a siren-like shriek. As was to be expected, it brought Nurse to the door.
“Now then, you naughty boys,” she said, “if I hear another sound I shall go and tell your gran’pa.”
“You can jolly well go,” said David, “he’s lost the birch.”
“If you aren’t quiet at once,” continued Nurse, “I shall not allow you to go to the horseshow to-morrow.”
“That’s all right,” said David. “Grandfather has already forbidden us to go——”
“But we’re jolly well going all the same,” added Bill in an aside.
“You shan’t have any jam for breakfast,” said poor old Nurse in despair. This was a serious matter.
“Then here goes,” said Bill, in a spasm of rage, and he let fly his remaining boot.
It struck the old Nurse very hard on the hand. She had rheumatism, and the blow hurt her. With a little exclamation of pain she retired, and shut the door.
A regular bally-rag then began. Pillows flew across the room, and before the fight was finished Bill’s nightshirt was torn from top to bottom, and David’s nose was bleeding.