"It"s not so dusty," said d.i.c.ky; "let"s go on to the others before we decide."
"You"re next yourself," said Alice.
"Oh, so I am," remarked d.i.c.ky, trying to look surprised. "Well, my idea is let"s be a sort of Industrious Society of Beavers, and make a solemn vow and covenant to make something every day. We might call it the Would-be-Clevers."
"It would be the Too-clever-by-half"s before we"d done with it," said Oswald.
And Alice said, "We couldn"t always make things that would be any good, and then we should have to do something that wasn"t any good, and that would be rot. Yes, I know it"s my turn--H.O., you"ll kick the table to pieces if you go on like that. Do, for goodness" sake, keep your feet still. The only thing I can think of is a society called the Would-be-Boys."
"With you and Dora for members."
"And Noel--poets aren"t boys exactly," said H.O.
"If you don"t shut up you shan"t be in it at all," said Alice, putting her arm round Noel. "No; I meant us all to be in it--only you boys are not to keep saying we"re only girls, and let us do everything the same as you boys do."
"I don"t want to be a boy, thank you," said Dora, "not when I see how they behave. H.O., _do_ stop sniffing and use your handkerchief. Well, take mine, then."
It was now Noel"s turn to disclose his idea, which proved most awful.
"Let"s be Would-be-Poets," he said, "and solemnly vow and convenient to write one piece of poetry a day as long as we live."
Most of us were dumb at the dreadful thought. But Alice said--
"That would never do, Noel dear, because you"re the only one of us who"s clever enough to do it."
So Noel"s detestable and degrading idea was shelved without Oswald having to say anything that would have made the youthful poet weep.
"I suppose you don"t mean me to say what I thought of," said H.O., "but I shall. I think you ought all to be in a Would-be-Kind Society, and vow solemn convents and things not to be down on your younger brother."
We explained to him at once that _he_ couldn"t be in that, because he hadn"t got a younger brother.
"And you may think yourself lucky you haven"t," d.i.c.ky added.
The ingenious and felicitous Oswald was just going to begin about the council all over again, when the portable form of our Indian uncle came stoutly stumping down the garden path under the cedars.
"Hi, brigands!" he cried in his cheerful unclish manner. "Who"s on for the Hippodrome this bright day?"
And instantly we all were. Even Oswald--because after all you can have a council any day, but Hippodromes are not like that.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "HI, BRIGANDS!" HE CRIED.]
We got ready like the whirlwind of the desert for quickness, and started off with our kind uncle, who has lived so long in India that he is much more warm-hearted than you would think to look at him.
Half-way to the station d.i.c.ky remembered his patent screw for working ships with. He had been messing with it in the bath while he was waiting for Oswald to have done plunging cleanly in the basin. And in the desert-whirlwinding he had forgotten to take it out. So now he ran back, because he knew how its cardboardiness would turn to pulp if it was left.
"I"ll catch you up," he cried.
The uncle took the tickets and the train came in and still d.i.c.ky had not caught us up.
"Tiresome boy!" said the uncle; "you don"t want to miss the beginning--eh, what? Ah, here he comes!" The uncle got in, and so did we, but d.i.c.ky did not see the uncle"s newspaper which Oswald waved, and he went running up and down the train looking for us instead of just getting in anywhere sensibly, as Oswald would have done. When the train began to move he did try to open a carriage door but it stuck, and the train went faster, and just as he got it open a large heavy porter caught him by the collar and pulled him off the train, saying--
"Now, young shaver, no susansides on this ere line, if _you_ please."
d.i.c.ky hit the porter, but his fury was vain. Next moment the train had pa.s.sed away, and us in it. d.i.c.ky had no money, and the uncle had all the tickets in the pocket of his fur coat.
I am not going to tell you anything about the Hippodrome because the author feels that it was a trifle beastly of us to have enjoyed it as much as we did considering d.i.c.ky. We tried not to talk about it before him when we got home, but it was very difficult--especially the elephants.
I suppose he spent an afternoon of bitter thoughts after he had told that porter what he thought of him, which took some time, and the station-master interfered in the end.
When we got home he was all right with us. He had had time to see it was not our faults, whatever he thought at the time.
He refused to talk about it. Only he said--
"I"m going to take it out of that porter. You leave me alone. I shall think of something presently."
"Revenge is very wrong," said Dora; but even Alice asked her kindly to dry up. We all felt that it was simply piffle to talk copy-book to one so disappointed as our unfortunate brother.
"It _is_ wrong, though," said Dora.
"Wrong be blowed!" said d.i.c.ky, snorting; "who began it I should like to know! The station"s a beastly awkward place to take it out of any one in. I wish I knew where he lived."
"_I_ know _that_," said Noel. "I"ve known it a long time--before Christmas, when we were going to the Moat House."
"Well, what is it, then?" asked d.i.c.ky savagely.
"Don"t bite his head off," remarked Alice. "Tell us about it, Noel. How do you know?"
"It was when you were weighing yourselves on the weighing machine. I didn"t because my weight isn"t worth being weighed for. And there was a heap of hampers and turkeys and hares and things, and there was a label on a turkey and brown-paper parcel; and that porter that you hate so said to the other porter----"
"Oh, hurry up, do!" said d.i.c.ky.
"I won"t tell you at all if you bully me," said Noel, and Alice had to coax him before he would go on.
"Well, he looked at the label and said, "Little mistake here, Bill--wrong address; ought to be 3, Abel Place, eh?"
"And the other one looked, and he said, "Yes; it"s got your name right enough. Fine turkey, too, and his chains in the parcel. Pity they ain"t more careful about addressing things, eh?" So when they had done laughing about it I looked at the label and it said, "James Johnson, 8, Granville Park." So I knew it was 3, Abel Place, he lived at, and his name was James Johnson."
"Good old Sherlock Holmes!" said Oswald.
"You won"t really _hurt_ him," said Noel, "will you? Not Corsican revenge with knives, or poisoned bowls? I wouldn"t do more than a good b.o.o.by-trap, if I was you."
When Noel said the word "b.o.o.by-trap," we all saw a strange, happy look come over d.i.c.ky"s face. It is called a far-away look, I believe, and you can see it in the picture of a woman cuddling a photograph-alb.u.m with her hair down, that is in all the shops, and they call it "The Soul"s Awakening."
Directly d.i.c.ky"s soul had finished waking up he shut his teeth together with a click. Then he said, "I"ve got it."