HENRI LEARNS THE LANGUAGE
It was Joan who drew William and the Outlaws from their immemorial
practice of playing at Pirates and Red Indians.
“I’m tired of being a squaw,” she said plaintively, “an’ I’m tired of
walking the plank an’ I want to be something else an’ do something
else.”
Joan was the only girl whose existence the Outlaws officially
recognised. This was partly owing to Joan’s own personal attractiveness
and partly to the fact that an admiration for Joan was the only human
weakness of their manly leader, William. Thus Joan was admitted to
all such games as required the female element. The others she was
graciously allowed to watch.
They received her outburst with pained astonishment.
“Well,” said Ginger coldly, “wot else is there to do an’ be?”
Ginger felt that the very foundation of the Society of Outlaws was
being threatened. The Outlaws had played at Red Indians and Pirates
since their foundation.
“Let’s play at being ordinary people,” said Joan.
“Ordinary people----!” exploded Douglas. “There’s no _playin’_ in bein’
_ordinary_ people. Wot’s the good----?”
“Let’s be Jasmine Villas,” said Joan, warming to her theme. “We’ll each
be a person in Jasmine Villas----”
William, who had so far preserved a judicial silence, now said:
“I don’ mind playin’ ornery people s’long as we don’ do ornery things.”
“Oh, no, William,” said Joan with the air of meekness with which she
always received William’s oracles, “we needn’t do ornery things.”
“Then bags me be ole Mr. Burwash.”
“And me Miss Milton next door,” said Joan hastily.
The Outlaws were beginning to see vague possibilities in the game.
“An’ me Mr. Luton,” said Ginger.
“An’ me Mr. Buck,” said Douglas.
Henry, the remaining outlaw, looked around him indignantly. Jasmine
Villas only contained four houses.
“An’ wot about _me?_” he said.
“Oh, you be a policeman wot walks about outside,” said William.
Henry, mollified, began to practise a commanding strut.
In the field behind the old barn that was the scene of most of their
activities they began to construct Jasmine Villas by boundary lines of
twigs. Each inhabitant took up their position inside a twig-encircled
enclosure, and Henry paraded officiously around.
“Now we’ll jus’ have a minute to think of what things to do,” said
William, “an’ then I’ll begin.”
* * * * *
William was sitting in his back garden thinking out exploits to perform
that afternoon in the character of Mr. Burwash. The game of Jasmine
Villas had “taken on” beyond all expectation. Mr. Burwash stole Miss
Milton’s washing during her afternoon siesta, Mr. Buck locked up Mr.
Luton in his coal cellar and ate up all his provisions, and always
the entire population of Jasmine Villas was chased round the field
by Henry, the policeman, several times during a game. Often some of
them were arrested, tried, condemned and imprisoned by the stalwart
Henry, to be rescued later by a joint force of the other inhabitants of
Jasmine Villas.
William, sitting on an inverted flower pot, absent-mindedly chewing
grass and throwing sticks for his mongrel, Jumble, to worry, was
wondering whether (in his rôle of Mr. Burwash) it would be more
exciting to go mad and resist the ubiquitous Henry’s efforts to take
him to an asylum, or marry Miss Milton. The only drawback to the
latter plan was that they had provided no clergyman. However, perhaps
a policeman would do.... Finally he decided that it would be more
exciting to go mad and leave Miss Milton to someone else.
“’Ello!”
A thin, lugubrious face appeared over the fence that separated
William’s garden from the next door garden.
“’Ello!” replied William, throwing it a cold glance and returning to
his pastime of entertaining Jumble.
“I weesh to leearn ze Eengleesh,” went on the owner of the lugubrious
face. “My godmother ’ere she talk ze correct Eengleesh. It ees ze
idiomatic Eengleesh I weesh to leearn--how you call it?--ze slang. You
talk ze slang--ees it not?”
William gave the intruder a devastating glare, gathering up his twigs
and with a commanding “Hi, Jumble,” set off round the side of the house.
“Oh, William!”
William sighed as he recognised his mother’s voice. This was followed
by his mother’s head which appeared at the open drawing-room window.
“I’m busy _jus’_ now----” said William sternly.
“William, Mrs. Frame next door has a godson staying with her and he is
so anxious to mix with boys and learn colloquial English. I’ve asked
him to tea this afternoon. Oh here he is.”
The owner of the thin lugubrious face--a young man of about
eighteen--appeared behind William.
“I made a way--’ow say you?--through a ’ole in ze fence. I weeshed to
talk wiz ze boy.”
“Well, now, William,” said Mrs. Brown persuasively, “you might spend
the afternoon with Henri and talk to him.”
William’s face was a study in horror and indignation.
“I shan’t know what to say to him,” he said desperately. “I can’t talk
his kind of talk.”
“I’m sure that’ll be quite all right,” said Mrs. Brown, kindly. “He
speaks English very well. Just talk to him simply and naturally.”
She brought the argument to an end by closing the window and leaving an
embittered William to undertake his new responsibility.
“’Ave you a ’oliday zis afternoon,” began his new responsibility.
“I ’ave,” said William simply and naturally.
“Zen we weel talk,” said Henri with enthusiasm. “We weel talk an’ you
weel teach to me ze slang.”
“’Fraid I’ve gotter play a game this afternoon,” said William icily as
they set off down the road.
“I weel play,” said Henri pleasantly, “I like ze games.”
“I’m fraid,” said William with equal pleasantness, “there won’t be no
room for you.”
“I weel watch zen,” said Henri, “I like too ze watching.”
* * * * *
Henri, who had spent the afternoon watching the game, was on his way
home. He had enjoyed watching the game. He had watched a realistically
insane Mr. Burwash resist all attempts at capture on the part of the
local policeman. He had watched Mr. Luton propose to Miss Milton,
and he had watched Mr. Buck in his end house being gloriously and
realistically drunk. This was an accomplishment of Douglas’s that was
forbidden at home under threat of severe punishment, but it was greatly
appreciated by the Outlaws.
Henri walked along jauntily, practising slang to himself.
“Oh, ze Crumbs ... oh, ze Crikey ... ze jolly well ... righto ... git
out ... ze bash on the mug....”
General Moult--fat and important-looking--came breezily down the road.
“Ah, Henri ... how are you getting on?”
“Ze jolly well,” said Henri.
“Been for a walk?” said the General yet more breezily.
“Non.... I been to Jasmine Villas.... Oh, ze Crumbs.... I see ole
Meester Burwash go--’ow you say it?--off ze head--out of ze chump.”
“_What?_”
“Oh, yes,” said Henri, “an’ the policeman ’e come an’ try to take ’im
away an’ ’e fight an’ fight, an’ ze policeman ’e go for ’elp----”
The General’s mouth was hanging open in amazement.
“B-but, are you _sure?_” he gasped.
“Oh, yes,” said Henri cheerfully. “I ’ave _been_ zere. I ’ave ze jolly
well watch eet.”
“But, good heavens!” said the General, and hastened in the direction of
Jasmine Villas.
Henri sauntered on by himself.
“Ze ’oly aunt ... a’right ... ze boose ...” he murmured softly.
At the corner of the road he ran into Mr. Graham Graham. Mr. Graham
Graham was tall and lank, with pince-nez and an earnest expression. Mr.
Graham Graham’s earnest expression did not belie his character. He was,
among other things, the President of the local Temperance Society. He
had met Henri with his godmother the day before.
“Well, Henri,” he said earnestly. “And how have you been spending your
time?”
“I ’ave been to Jasmine Villas,” said Henri.
“Ah, yes--to whom----?”
Henri interrupted.
“An’ I ’ave seen Meester Buck ... oh, ze crumbs ... ’ow say you? ...
tight ... boozed ... derrunk.”
Mr. Graham Graham paled.
“Never!” he said.
Mr. Buck was the Secretary of the local Temperance Society.
“Oh, yes, ze ’oly aunt!” said Henri, “ze policeman ’e ’elp ’im into the
’ouse--’e was, ’ow say you? ro-o-o-o-olling.”
“This is impossible,” said Mr. Graham Graham sternly.
“I ’ave seed it,” said Henri simply. “I laugh ... oh, ze Crikey ...
_’ow_ I laugh....”
Mr. Graham Graham turned upon Henri a cold condemning silent glance
then set off in the direction of Jasmine Villas.
Henri wandered homewards.
He met his godmother coming out of her front gate.
“We’re going to Mrs. Brown’s to tea, you know, Henri,” she reminded him.
“A’right,” said Henri. “A’right--righto.”
He accompanied her to Mrs. Brown’s.
“And did you spend the afternoon with William?” said Mrs. Brown
pleasantly.
“Oh, yes,” said Henri as he sat down comfortably by the fire, “at ze
Jasmine Villas.... Mr. Luton ’e kees Miss Milton in the garden.”
Henri’s godmother dropped her buttered scone.
“_Nonsense!_” she said.
“’E did,” said Henri calmly. “I ’ave seed ’im. An’ she gave ’im--’ow
say you?--ze bash on ze mug. But she tell me she goin’ to marry
’im--righto.”
“She _told_ you?” gasped Mrs. Brown.
“Oh, yes,” said Henri, “she tell me so ’erself.”
Both Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother were pale.
“Do you think she doesn’t know that he’s married and separated from his
wife?” said Henri’s godmother.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Brown. “I feel that I can’t eat a thing now.
Someone ought to tell her at once.”
“Let’s go,” said Henri’s godmother suddenly, “before she tells anyone
else. The poor woman!”
They went out quickly, leaving Henri alone in the drawing-room. Henri
chose a large sugared cake and began to munch it.
“Ze jolly well good,” he commented contentedly.
* * * * *
The General approached Mr. Burwash’s house cautiously. There was no
sign of a disturbance. Evidently the policeman had not yet returned
with help. The General entered the garden and went on tiptoe to the
morning-room window. He was full of curiosity. There was the madman.
He was sitting at a table with his back to the window. There was a mad
look about his very back. The General was suddenly inspired by the idea
of making the capture single-handed. It would be a glorious page in the
annals of the village. The front door was open. The General entered
and walked very slowly down the hall. The morning-room door was open.
It was here that the General made the painful discovery that his boots
squeaked. The squeaking would undoubtedly attract the attention of the
lunatic as he entered. The General had another inspiration. He dropped
down upon his hands and knees. He could thus make his way unseen
and unheard to the back of the madman, then spring to his feet and
overpower him.
He entered the room.
He reached the middle of the room.
Then Mr. Burwash turned round.
Mr. Burwash was met by the sight of the General creeping gingerly and
delicately across his morning-room carpet on hands and knees. Mr.
Burwash leapt to the not unreasonable conclusion that the General had
gone mad. Mr. Burwash knew that a madman must be humoured. He also
dropped upon his hands and knees.
“Bow-wow!” he said.
If the General thought he was a dog, the General must be humoured.
“Bow-wow!” promptly replied the General.
The General also knew that madmen must be humoured.
They continued this conversation for several minutes.
Then Mr. Burwash, intent on escape, made a leap towards the door, and
the General, intent on capture, made a leap to intercept him.
They leapt about the room excitedly uttering short, shrill barks.
The General never quite knew what made him change into a cat. It
was partly that he was tired of barking and partly that he hoped to
lure Mr. Burwash after him into the more open space of the hall and
there overpower him. Mr. Burwash’s pursuit was realistic, and the
General, violently chased into the hall, decided to leave the capture
to the police after all, and made for the hall door. But a furiously
barking Mr. Burwash cut off his retreat. The General, still miaowing
unconsciously in a high treble voice, scampered on all fours up the
stairs and took refuge in a small room at the top, slamming the door
against the pursuing lunatic. The key was turned in the lock from
outside.
At the top of the stairs Mr. Burwash stood trembling slightly, and
wiped his brow. A violent sound of kicking came from the locked room.
* * * * *
Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother heard vaguely the distant sounds of
the kicking next door, but their delicate interview with Miss Milton
was taking all their attention.
Miss Milton, who had been to see a girl whom she was engaging as
housemaid for Mr. Luton, was just taking off her things. Miss Milton
kept a purely maternal eye upon Mr. Luton.
“You know, dear,” said Henri’s godmother, “we felt we had to come and
tell you as soon as we heard the news. He’s got one already.”
“Who?” said Miss Milton, angular and severe looking.
“Mr. Luton.”
“He might have told me,” said Miss Milton.
“But she’s left him,” put in Mrs. Brown.
“Then I’d better see about providing him with another,” said Miss
Milton.
“She--she’s not divorced,” gasped Mrs. Brown.
“I should hope not,” said Miss Milton primly. “I’m always most
particular about that sort of thing.”
“But when we heard he’d been seen kissing you----” said Henri’s
godmother.
Miss Milton gave a piercing scream.
“ME?” she said.
“Yes, when we heard that Mr. Luton had been seen----”
Miss Milton gave a still more piercing scream.
“Slanderers,” she shrieked, “vampires....”
She advanced upon them quivering with rage.
“I’m so sorry,” gasped Mrs. Brown retreating precipitately. “Quite a
mistake ... a misunderstanding....”
“Liars ... hypocrites ... snakes in the grass!” screamed Miss Milton,
still advancing.
Mrs. Brown and Henri’s godmother fled trembling to the road. Miss
Milton’s screams still rent the air. There, two curious sights met
their eyes. The General and Mr. Graham Graham were making their exits
from the two end houses in unconventional fashion. Mr. Graham Graham
fell down the steps and rolled down the garden path to the road. An
infuriated Mr. Buck watched his departure.
“I’ll teach you to come and insult respectable people,” shouted Mr.
Buck. “Drunkard indeed! And I’ve been Secretary of the Temperance
Society for forty years. You’re drunk, let me tell you----”
Mr. Graham Graham, still sitting in the road, put on his hat.
“I’m not drunk,” he said with dignity.
“I’ll have the law on you,” shouted Mr. Buck. “It’s libel, that’s what
it is----”
Mr. Graham Graham gathered together his collar ends and tried to find
his stud.
“I merely repeat what I’ve heard,” he said.
Mr. Buck slammed the door and Mr. Graham Graham staggered to his feet.
Then he stood open-mouthed, his eyes fixed on the other end house.
The stout figure of the General could be seen emerging from a small
first floor window and making a slow and ungraceful descent down a
drain pipe. It was noticed that he had no hat and that his knees were
very dusty. Once on the ground he ran wildly across the garden into
the road, almost charging the little group who were watching him. With
pale, horror-struck faces the four of them gazed at each other.
“Henri told me----” all four began simultaneously, then stopped.
“D-do come and have some tea,” said Mrs. Brown hysterically.
* * * * *
[Illustration: AT THE WINDOW HENRI EXCLAIMED SHRILLY, “OH, ZE ’OLY
AUNT!” AND THE OUTLAWS HASTILY JOINED HIM.]
William was leading his Outlaws quietly round from the front gate to
the back of the house, passing the drawing-room window on tiptoe.
Suddenly William stopped dead, gazing with interest into the
drawing-room. The expected tea party was not there. Only Henri still
eating sugar cakes, was there. William put his head through the open
window.
[Illustration: FOUR PEOPLE WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD--FOUR VERY ANGRY
PEOPLE.]
“I say,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “they been an’ gone?”
“Oh, yes,” smiled Henri, “they been an’ gone--righto.”
“Come on!” said William to his followers.
They crept into the hall and then guiltily into the drawing-room.
William looked at the plates of dainty food with widening eyes.
“Shu’ly,” he remarked plaintively, “’f they’ve been an’ gone they can’t
mind us jus’ finishin’ up what they’ve left. _Shu’ly._”
William made this statement less at the dictates of truth than at the
dictates of an empty stomach.
“Jus’--jus’ look out of the window, Ongry,” he said, “an’ tell us if
anyone comes.”
Henri obligingly took up his position at the window and the Outlaws
gave themselves up whole-heartedly to the task of “finishing up.”
They finished up the buttered scones and they finished up the bread and
butter and they finished up the sandwiches and they finished up the
biscuits and they finished up the small cakes and they finished up the
two large cakes.
“I’m jus’ a bit tired of this ole Jasmine Villas game,” said William,
his mouth full of sugar cake. “I votes we go back to Pirates an’ Red
Injuns to-morrow.”
The Outlaws, who were still busy, agreed with grunts.
“I think----” began Douglas, but just then Henri at the window
ejaculated shrilly, “Oh, ze ’oly aunt.”
The Outlaws hastily joined him. Four people were coming down the road.
The General--_could_ it be the General? (the drain pipe had been very
dirty)--Mr. Graham Graham, his collar open, his tie awry, Henri’s
godmother with her hat on one side, and Mrs. Brown, her usual look of
placid equanimity replaced by a look that was almost wild. They were
certainly coming to the Browns’ house. William looked guiltily at the
empty plates and cakestand. Except upon the carpet (for the Outlaws
were not born drawing-room eaters) there was not a crumb to be seen.
“P’raps,” said William hastily to his friends, “p’raps we’d better go
now.”
His friends agreed.
They went as quietly and unostentatiously as possible by way of the
back regions.
Henri remained at the window. He watched the curious quartette as they
came in at the gate.
Details of their appearance, unnoticed before, became clear as they
drew nearer.
“Ze Crumbs _an’_ ze Crikey!” ejaculated Henri.
* * * * *
It was two hours later. William sat disconsolately upon the upturned
plant pot throwing stones half-heartedly at the fence. Jumble sat
disconsolately by him snapping half-heartedly at flies. The Outlaws had
nobly shared the sugar cakes with Jumble and he was just beginning to
wish that they hadn’t....
Suddenly Henri’s face appeared at the top of the fence.
“’Ello!” he said.
“’Ello!” sighed William.
“Zey talk to me,” said Henri sadly, “_’ow_ zey talk to me jus’ because
I tell ’em about your leetle game.”
“Yes,” said William bitterly, “and _’ow_ they talk to me jus’ ’cause we
finished up a few ole cakes and things left over from tea. You’d think
to hear ’em that they’d have been glad to come home and find me starved
dead.”
Henri leant yet further over the fence.
“But zey looked ... _’ow_ zey looked!”
There was silence for a moment while the mental vision of “’ow zey
looked” came to both. Then William’s rare laugh--unmusical and
penetrating--rang out. Mrs. Brown, who was suffering from a severe
headache as the result of the events of the afternoon, hastily closed
the drawing-room window. Followed Henri’s laugh--high-pitched and like
the neighing of a horse. Henri’s godmother tore herself with a groan
from the bed on which she was indulging in a nervous breakdown and
flung up her bedroom window.
“Henri, are you ill?” she cried. “What is it?”
“Oh, ze nosings,” replied Henri.
Then, leaning yet more dangerously over the fence, “What ze game you
goin’ to play to-morrow, Willem?”
“Pirates,” said William, regaining his usual calm. “Like to come?”
“Oh, ze jolly well righto yes!” said Henri.