Part 3 (1/2)

'It's children,' gasped Mrs Brown.

'So it is,' said Mrs Monks. Her nervousness vanished abruptly. Children. She knew how to deal with children. She could control a whole Sunday school by the flicker of an eyelash. There was no choirboy in existence so unquellable that she could not quell him at once . . . She seemed to grow several inches taller as she a.s.sumed her official manner.

'Let me deal with this,' she said. 'To begin with, at any rate. I'll go down first, alone. If I need help I'll call . . .'

'But, Mrs Monks-' began Mrs Brown anxiously.

Mrs Monks paid no attention to her. With the air of a general at the head of a large army she marched down the cellar steps. At the bottom the dim light from the grating showed her the whole scene in a moment Herbert as a Red Indian, wearing round his head the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of Miss Thompson's hat, Hector as the Pale Face (his face paled by Mrs Monks's powder compact), and, ranged in a small box, the contents of Mrs Monks's handbag, by means of which the Pale Face had been purchasing native food (such as carrots and potatoes). Many half-eaten carrots lay about them on the floor. Their persons revealed generous traces of the coal-heap, which they had utilised for 'shooting the rapids'. But this scene lasted only a moment. William had warned the twins that the enemy might come, and the twins had prepared a heap of ammunition in readiness for the contingency. No sooner had Mrs Monks taken in this amazing scene than one of Mrs Brown's pickled eggs caught her full on the forehead, and another on her mouth, which she was opening for a majestic reproof. Almost immediately afterwards a large piece of coal struck her on the chest. Mrs Monks was a brave woman. She had once shoo'ed out a dangerous bull that had strayed into the Vicarage garden, and it had obeyed her meekly. But she was winded, choked and blinded. Dripping with coal and egg, she staggered up the cellar steps to rejoin the other three. They stared at her in blank dismay.

'There are two children down there,' she said indistinctly, but with as much dignity as could possibly be mustered in the circ.u.mstances. 'Two children. Quite small, but I think I'll sit down for a moment. I seem to have swallowed an egg sh.e.l.l . . .'

From below came the voices of the twins, now unrestrained and exultant.

'We're bombing the enemy,' they shouted. 'We're bombing the enemy! The enemy! The enemy! We're bombing the enemy!'

'Come along, Miss Thompson,' said Mrs Brown firmly. 'We must do something at once.'

They descended the steps only to return a few moments later in much the same condition as Mrs Monks.

'There's no getting near them,' gasped Mrs Brown, wiping egg out of her eye.

'The little villains!' panted Miss Thompson. 'My poor feather! Oh, dear, I've swallowed such a big piece of coal. I hope it won't do me any harm.'

'Of course it won't,' said Mrs Monks curtly. 'Carbon's good for the digestion.'

From below the exultant shouts increased in volume to the accompaniment of breaking eggs. Herbert and Hector were evidently carrying on a glorious fight.

'Bombing the enemy!' and they continued to shout: 'Bomb! Bomb! Bomb! Bomb! Bomb!'

'My poor eggs!' moaned Mrs Brown. 'I put down eight dozen.'

Then William returned. He had no suspicion of recent developments, and had had the sudden and brilliant idea of pretending that Hector and Herbert had fallen through the grating accidentally and become imprisoned in the cellar through no fault of their own or his.

But the sight of the three figures in the hall took away his power of speech and, before he had recovered it, Mrs Brown spoke in a firm voice.

'William, I'll ask you about this later. But for the present go down into the cellar at once and bring up those two children.'

William obeyed. There was nothing else to do. He went down to the cellar and stopped the egg-battle.

'We've bombed the enemy,' sang Hector, and: 'Is the war over now?' asked Herbert.

William a.s.sured them grimly that as far as they were concerned the war was over, and escorted them up the cellar stairs. Plastered with coal and egg they were still dimly recognisable as human beings. Miss Thompson pounced upon Herbert and took her hat tr.i.m.m.i.n.g from his head.

'It'll need cleaning, of course,' she said, examining it, 'but I don't think it's damaged beyond repair.'

Mrs Monks fixed them with a stern eye.

'Why did you put carrots in my bag?' she said.

Then Ethel and Robert entered. They had just come from their A.R.P. cla.s.s. Ethel had been practising bandaging, and Robert had been listening to a lecture on decontamination.

There was a jagged cut on Hector's temple caused by an unusually resistant egg sh.e.l.l. It was exactly the size and shape of the cut on which Ethel had just been practising. She seized on him with gleaming eyes and began to hustle him upstairs.

'I don't know who you are,' she said, 'but I'm going to bandage that cut. Come on.'

The last egg thrown at Herbert had evidently been a bad one. He stank to Heaven . . . It was just such an object blackened by smoke, soaked in noxious gases on which Robert had imagined himself practising the art of decontamination.

'And I don't know who you are, but I'm going to decontaminate you.'

'Yes!' said William bitterly, thinking of his own ill-fated attempt at A.R.P. work. 'They c'n do it all right. No one stops them.'

Mrs Brown watched helplessly as Ethel and Robert swept the twins upstairs before them. The spirits of the twins were still undaunted.

'Aren't we having a lovely time, Hector?' said Herbert.

'Yes,' said Hector happily. 'I like wars.'

Mrs Brown watched till they were out of sight, then turned slowly to the spot from which William had spoken.

But William was no longer there.

William had decided that the time had come to try a spot of evacuation on his own account.

CHAPTER 2.

WILLIAM DOES HIS BIT.

WILLIAM was finding the war a little dull. Such possibilities as the black-out and other war conditions afforded had been explored to the full and were beginning to pall. He had dug for victory with such mistaken zeal pulling up as weeds whole rows of young lettuces and cabbages that he had been forbidden to touch spade, fork or hoe again. He had offered himself at a recruiting office in Hadley and, though the recruiting sergeant had been jovial and friendly, and had even given him a genuine regimental b.u.t.ton, he had refused to enrol him as a member of His Majesty's Forces.

'You're not quite big enough,' he had said. 'There's very strict regulations about size.'

'I grow quick,' pleaded William. 'I'm always growin' out of things.'

'Not quite quick enough for us,' said the sergeant firmly.

'Well, can't I be a drummer boy?' said William. 'I can make a jolly fine noise on a drum. An aunt of mine said it made her head ache for weeks. I bet it'd scare ole Hitler off all right.'

'No vacancies for drummer boys at present,' said the sergeant.

'Well, will you let me know when there are?' said William.

'Certainly,' said the sergeant, but he winked at a corporal standing near as he spoke, and William didn't set much store by the promise.