Part 16 (2/2)
And d.i.c.ky replied: ”Well, what about it?”
So then Oswald explained all over again that we had been Treasure Seekers, and we had been Would-be-Goods, and he thought it was time we were something else.
”Being something else makes you think of things,” he said at the end of all the other things he said.
”Yes,” said H.O., yawning, without putting up his hand, which is not manners, and we told him so. ”But _I_ can think of things without being other things. Look how I thought about being a clown, and going to Rome.”
”I shouldn't think you would want us to remember _that_,” said Dora. And indeed Father had not been pleased with H.O. about that affair. But Oswald never encourages Dora to nag, so he said patiently--
”Yes, you think of things you'd much better not have thought of. Now my idea is let's each say what sort of a society we shall make ourselves into--like we did when we were Treasure Seekers--about the different ways to look for it, I mean. Let's hold our tongues (no, not with your dirty fingers, H.O., old chap; hold it with your teeth if you must hold it with something)--let's hold our tongues for a bit, and then all say what we've thought of--in ages,” the thoughtful boy added hastily, so that every one should not speak at once when we had done holding our tongues.
So we were all silent, and the birds sang industriously among the leafless trees of our large sunny garden in beautiful Blackheath. (The author is sorry to see he is getting poetical. It shall not happen again, and it _was_ an extra fine day, really, and the birds did sing, a fair treat.)
When three long minutes had elapsed themselves by the hands of Oswald's watch, which always keeps perfect time for three or four days after he has had it mended, he closed the watch and observed--
”Time! Go ahead, Dora.”
Dora went ahead in the following remarks:
”I've thought as hard as I can, and nothing will come into my head except--
”'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever.'
Don't you think we might try to find some new ways to be good in?”
”No, you don't!” ”I bar that!” came at once from the mouths of d.i.c.ky and Oswald.
”You don't come that over us twice,” d.i.c.ky added. And Oswald eloquently said, ”No more Would-be-Goods, thank you, Dora.”
Dora said, well, she couldn't think of anything else. And she didn't expect Oswald had thought of anything better.
”Yes, I have,” replied her brother. ”What I think is that we don't _know_ half enough.”
”If you mean extra swat,” said Alice; ”I've more homers than I care for already, thank you.”
”I do not mean swat,” rejoined the experienced Oswald. ”I want to know all about real things, not booky things. If you kids had known about electric bells you wouldn't have----” Oswald stopped, and then said, ”I won't say any more, because Father says a gentleman does not support his arguments with personal illusions to other people's faults and follies.”
”Faults and follies yourself,” said H.O. The girls restored peace, and Oswald went on--
”Let us seek to grow wiser, and to teach each other.”
”_I_ bar that,” said H.O. ”I don't want Oswald and d.i.c.ky always on to me and call it teaching.”
”We might call the society the Would-be-Wisers,” said Oswald hastily.
<script>