William the Outlaw
9781465679673
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
WILLIAM and Ginger and Douglas (known as the Outlaws) walked slowly down the road to school. It was a very fine afternoon—one of those afternoons which, one feels—certainly the Outlaws felt—it is base ingratitude to spend indoors. The sun was shining and the birds were singing in a particularly inviting way. “G’omtry,” said William with scornful emphasis and repeated bitterly, “G’omtry!” “Might be worse,” said Douglas, “might be Latin.” “Might be better,” said Henry, “might be singin’.” The Outlaws liked singing lessons not because they were musical, but because it involved no mental effort and because the master who taught singing was a poor disciplinarian. “Might be better still,” said Ginger, “might be nothin’.” The Outlaws slackened their already very slack pace and their eyes wandered wistfully to the tree-covered hill-tops which lay so invitingly in the distance. “Afternoon school’s all wrong,” said William suddenly. “Mornin’s bad enough. But afternoon——!” That morning certainly had been bad enough. It had been the sort of morning when everything goes wrong that can go wrong. The Outlaws had incurred the wrath of every master with whom they had come in contact. “An’ this afternoon!” said Ginger with infinite disgust. “It’ll be worse even than an ordinary afternoon with me havin’ to stay in writin’ lines for old Face.” “An’ me havin’ to stay in doin’ stuff all over again for ole Stinks.” It turned out that each one of the four Outlaws would have to stay in after afternoon school as the victim of one or other of the masters whose wrath they had incurred that morning. William heaved a deep sigh. “Makes me feel mad,” he said. “Miners havin’ Trades Unions an’ Strikes an’ things to stop ’em doin’ too much work an’ us havin’ to go on an’ on an’ on till we’re wore out. You’d think Parliament’d stop it. People go on writin’ in the papers about people needin’ fresh air an’ then ’stead of lettin’ people have fresh air they shut ’em up in schools all day, mornin’ an’ afternoon, till—till they’re all wore out.” “Yes,” said Ginger in hearty agreement. “I think that there oughter be a law stoppin’ afternoon school. I think that we’d be much healthier in every way if someone made a law stoppin’ afternoon school so’s we could get a bit of fresh air. I think,” with an air of unctuous virtue, “that it’s our juty to try’n get a bit of fresh air to keep us healthy so’s to save our parents havin’ to pay doctor’s bills.”
