Now there was only one day. He took up his
pea-shooter and aimed carefully. The pea did not embed itself deeply
into the gardener's skull as William had sometimes thought it would.
It bounced back. It bounced back quite hard. The gardener also bounced
back with a yell of anger, shaking his fist at William's window. But
William had discreetly retired. He hid the pea-shooter, assumed his
famous expression of innocence, and felt distinctly cheered. The
question as to what exactly would happen when the pea met the baldness
was now for ever solved. The gardener retired grumbling to the potting
shed, so, for the present, all was well. Later in the day the gardener
might lay his formal complaint before authority, but later in the day
was later in the day. It did not trouble William. He dressed briskly
and went down to breakfast with a frown of concentration upon his
face. It was the last day of his old life.
[Illustration: THE PEA DID NOT EMBED ITSELF INTO THE GARDENER'S SKULL
AS WILLIAM HAD SOMETIMES THOUGHT IT WOULD. IT BOUNCED BACK. THE
GARDENER ALSO BOUNCED BACK.]
No one else was in the dining-room. It was the work of a few minutes
to remove the bacon from beneath the big pewter cover and substitute
the kitten, to put a tablespoonful of salt into the coffee, and to put
a two-days'-old paper in place of that morning's. They were all things
that he had at one time or another vaguely thought of doing, but for
which he had never yet seemed to have time or opportunity.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161