"Oh, how lovely! Oh, William, do read it to me. I'd _love_ it!"
Mollified, he opened the door and she took her seat on his buckskin on
the floor, and William sat by the candle, clearing his throat for a
minute before he began. During the reading she never took her eyes off
him. At the end she drew a deep breath.
"Oh, William, it's beautiful. William, are there smugglers now?"
"Oh, yes. Millions," he said carelessly.
"_Here_?"
"Of course there are!"
She went to the door and looked out at the dusk.
"I'd love to see one. What do they smuggle, William?"
He came and joined her at the door, walking with a slight swagger as
became a man of literary fame.
"Oh, beer an' cigars an' things. _Millions_ of them."
A furtive figure was passing the door, casting suspicious glances to
left and right. He held his coat tightly round him, clasping something
inside it.
"I expect that's one," said William casually.
They watched the figure out of sight.
Suddenly William's eyes shone.
"Let's stalk him an' catch him," he said excitedly. "Come on. Let's
take some weapons." He seized his pop-gun from a corner. "You take--"
he looked round the room--"You take the wastepaper basket to put over
his head an'--an' pin down his arms an' somethin' to tie him up!--I
know--the skin I--he--shot in Africa. You can tie its paws in front of
him. Come on! Let's catch him smugglin'."
He stepped out boldly into the dusk with his pop-gun, followed by the
blindly obedient Peggy carrying the wastepaper basket in one hand and
the skin in the other.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151