Free William The Outlaw by Richmal Crompton

maternal escorts and foregathered on the outskirts of the throng.
    ‘Let’s get out of this,’ said Ginger gloomily.
    They wandered down a small path that led off from the lawn and finally reached the rather muddy pond which the Murdochs dignified by the name of ‘lake’. The Outlaws gazed at it
gloomily. In ordinary circumstances it would have suggested a dozen enthralling games, but the Outlaws, encased in Sunday suits, and more or less clean and tidy, felt that any straying from the
paths of strict decorum upon this occasion would be simply playing into the hands of the enemy. They wandered morosely into a small summer-house that stood near the banks of the pond, and there
they held a further consultation. Feeling against William was running high. What after all was the use of a leader who could not cope with an emergency like this . . . ?
    ‘’Straordinary,’ said Ginger aloofly, ‘’Straordinary that you can’t think of anythin’ to do. ’
    William glared at Ginger. He couldn’t for the moment even fight old Ginger, which would have been something of a relief to his feelings. So he merely retorted coldly,
‘’Straordinary you can’t think of anythin’ to do yourself.’
    And Henry said gloomily, ‘And he gets sickniner an’ sickniner.’
    ‘He certainly does,’ said a strange voice.
    The Outlaws looked up to see the famous cousin lolling negligently against the side of the doorway of the summer-house.
    ‘You are referring, I presume,’ he said, ‘to our little host, Georgie the Terrible.’
    ‘Yes, we are,’ said William belligerently, ‘an’ – an’ I don’t care if you tellem. ’
    ‘Oh, I shan’t tell them,’ said the famous cousin carelessly. ‘I’ve thought far worse things about Georgie than you could ever put into words.’
    ‘Uh?’ said William, surprised.
    ‘You only see him occasionally. For this week I’ve seen him every day.’
    ‘Oh?’ said William again.
    ‘I’ve suffered,’ went on the famous cousin, ‘more deeply than you can ever have suffered. Georgie is, as it were, branded into my very soul. I have often wondered why
– My hands, of course, are tied. I am the guest of Georgie’s parents. Battery and assault upon Georgie would therefore ill become me. But you —’ he looked at them
scornfully – ‘that one – two – three – four boys your size can continue to allow Georgie to exist as he is passes my comprehension.’
    ‘’S all very well talkin’ like that,’ said William indignantly, ‘but he’s such a little sneak ! We can’t do anythin’ to him that he
doesn’t go an’ tell our mothers an’ then we get into trouble an’ he gets more sickenin’ than ever.’
    ‘Sickniner an’ sickniner ,’ murmured Henry again dejectedly.
    ‘I see,’ said the stranger judicially, ‘I fully appreciate the difficulty. . . . Er – may I join the conference?’
    He entered the summer-house and sat down next to William.
    ‘Have you,’ he said, ‘discussed any plan of action?’
    ‘Lots,’ said William. ‘Douglas wanted to put him in a pit an’ say wild beasts had eaten him.’
    ‘Same as they did Joseph in the Bible,’ explained Douglas.
    ‘Ingenious,’ commented the stranger, ‘but impracticable. . . . Now we want to approach the matter in a scientific frame of mind. Before fixing on a plan of action you should
always study the enemy’s weaknesses. Has the egregious Georgie any weaknesses?’
    ‘ Has he?’ said William bitterly, ‘he tells tales an’ won’t play games an’—’
    The famous cousin raised his hand.
    ‘Pardon me,’ he said, ‘those are vices, not weaknesses. In my sojourn with Georgie I have noticed two weaknesses. He will never own to ignorance even on the most abstruse
subjects, and he is passionately fond of chocolate creams. Did you know that?’
    ‘Y-yes. S’pose so,’ said William, ‘but I don’t see how it will help.’
    ‘Ah . . . you must somehow make it help. A good general always