"Huh!" grunted William, who was apt to overwork his phrases. "They've
got _out_ right enough."
He looked at the tracks again and brightened. Jimmy was frankly
delighted.
"Oo! Look!" he cried, "Oo _funny_!"
William's thoughts flew back to his bedroom wall--"A Busy Day is a
Happy Day."
"Let's clean it up!" he said. "Let's have it all nice an' clean for
when they come down. We'll be busy. You tell me if you feel happy when
we've done. It might be true wot it says, but I don't like the flowers
messin' all over it."
Investigation in the kitchen provided them with a large pail of water
and a scrubbing-brush each.
For a long time they worked in silence. They used plenty of water.
When they had finished the trails were all gone. Each soaked garment
on the hat-stand was sending a steady drip on to the already flooded
floor. The wall-paper was sodden. With a feeling of blankness they
realised that there was nothing else to clean.
It was Jimmy who conceived the exquisite idea of dipping his brush in
the bucket and sprinkling William with water. A scrubbing-brush is in
many ways almost as good as a hose. Each had a pail of ammunition.
Each had a good-sized brush. During the next few minutes they
experienced purest joy. Then William heard threatening movements
above, and decided hastily that the battle must cease.
"Backstairs," he said shortly. "Come on."
Marking their track by a running stream of water, they crept up the
backstairs.
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