" What history people shall we be ? " said Ginger.
They were passing the gate of the Hall. The Hall had lately been taken by a famous actress and according to rumours fabulous sums had been spent upon its redecoration. The actress and her little girl had only come into residence the week before and as yet the neighbourhood had seen little of them. The Outlaws glanced up at the chimneys that could be seen through the trees.
" Pity it's a girl," said William dispassionately, " they're never any use."
As they reached the gate, a little girl about the Outlaws' age, accompanied by a governess, was turning into it. She was a very pretty little girl, but William was immune against the wiles of feminine charm. He looked at her scornfully. She looked at him with interest. They passed each other. She went into the gate with the governess. When William had gone a few yards he looked back. He could still see her. She too was looking back. He pulled a face at her. She did not burst into tears or turn haughtily away as he expected her to do. Instead she pulled a face back at him—a face so perfect in its suddenly assumed hideousness that William was startled into relaxing his own efforts.
" Soppy-looking kid," said Ginger who had not noticed WiUiam's facial challenge and its spirited acceptance.
" No, she isn't," said William; " she's all right," and
added hastily, " all right for a girl, of course, I mean." ******
The Outlaws met in the old barn to discuss the waxwork show in greater detail.
" We've gotter think of famous history people," said William.
" All right," said Ginger, " you start."
" Oh, there's heaps of 'em," said William carelessly, " you jus' say one or two."