Free Just William by Richmal Crompton Page A

says his idol has feet of clay,’ he said to his wife, who had approached.
    ‘I dunno as she’s got feet of clay’ said William, the literal. ‘All I say is she can’t talk straight. I took no end of trouble an’ she dunno what she means. I
think her feet’s all right. She walks all right. ‘Sides, when they make folks false feet, they make ’em of wood, not clay.’
     
    CHAPTER 5
THE SHOW
    T he Outlaws sat around the old barn, plunged in deep thought. Henry, the oldest member (aged 12¼) had said in a moment of inspiration:
    ‘Let’s think of – sumthin’ else to do – sumthin’ quite fresh from what we’ve ever done before.’
    And the Outlaws were thinking.
    They had engaged in mortal combat with one another, they had cooked strange ingredients over a smoking and reluctant flame with a fine disregard of culinary conventions, they had tracked each
other over the countryside with gait and complexions intended to represent those of the aborigines of South America, they had even turned their attention to kidnapping (without any striking
success), and these occupations had palled.
    In all its activities the Society of Outlaws (comprising four members) aimed at a simple, unostentatious mode of procedure. In their shrinking from the glare of publicity they showed an example
of unaffected modesty that many other public societies might profitably emulate. The parents of the members were unaware of the very existence of the society. The ill-timed and tactless
interference of parents had nipped in the bud many a cherished plan, and by bitter experience the Outlaws had learnt that secrecy was their only protection. Owing to the rules and restrictions of
an unsympathetic world that orders school hours from nine to four their meetings were confined to half-holidays and occasionally Sunday afternoons.
    William, the ever ingenious, made the first suggestion.
    ‘Let’s shoot things with bows an’ arrows same as real outlaws used to,’ he said.
    ‘What things?’ and,
    ‘What bows an’ arrows?’ said Henry and Ginger simultaneously.
    ‘Oh, anything – birds an’ cats an’ hens an’ things – an’ buy bows an’ arrows. You can buy them in shops.’
    ‘We can make them,’ said Douglas, hopefully.
    ‘Not like you can get them in shops. They’d shoot crooked or sumthin’ if we made them. They’ve got to be jus’ so to shoot straight. I saw some in Brook’s
window, too, jus’ right – jus’ same as real outlaws had.’
    ‘How much?’ said the outlaws breathlessly.
    ‘Five shillings — targets for learnin’ on before we begin shootin’ real things an’ all.’
    ‘Five shillings!’ breathed Douglas. He might as well have said five pounds. ‘We’ve not got five shillings. Henry’s not having any money since he broke their
drawing-room window an’ Ginger only has 3d a week an’ has to give collection an’ we’ve not paid for the guinea pig yet, the one that got into Ginger’s
sister’s hat an’ she was so mad at, an’—’
    ‘Oh, never mind all that,’ said William, scornfully. ‘We’ll jus’ get five shillings.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Well,’ uncertainly, ‘grown-ups can always get money when they want it.’
    ‘How?’ again.
    William disliked being tied down to details.
    ‘Oh – bazaars an’ things,’ he said impatiently.
    ‘Bazaars!’ exploded Henry. ‘Who’d come to a bazaar if we had one? Who would? Jus’ tell me that if you’re so clever! Who’d come to it? Besides,
you’ve got to sell things at a bazaar, haven’t you? What’d we sell? We’ve got nothin’ to sell, have we? What’s the good of havin’ a bazaar with
nothin’ to sell and no one to buy it? Jus’ tell me that!’
    Henry always enjoyed scoring off William.
    ‘Well – shows an’ things,’ said William desperately.
    There was a moment’s silence, then Ginger repeated thoughtfully, ‘Shows!’ and Douglas, whose eldest brother was home from college for his vacation, murmured