"Well," Ingpen breathed. "I wouldn’t have missed this for a good deal." He gave a deep, almost soundless giggle.
Edwin was startled--as much as anything by the extraordinary deceitfulness of George. Who could possibly have guessed from the boy’s demeanour when his Aunt Clara mentioned Bert to him, that he had made an outrageous rendezvous with Bert that very night? Certainly he had blushed, but then he often blushed. Of course, the Benbows would assert that George had seduced the guileless Bert. Fancy them hunting the town for Bert at that instant! As regards Peter Clowes, George, though not positively forbidden to do so, had been warned against associating with him--chiefly because of the bad influence which Peter’s accent would have on George’s accent. His mother had said that she could not understand how George could wish to be friendly with a rough little boy like Peter. Edwin, however, inexperienced as he was, had already comprehended that children, like Eastern women, have no natural class bias; and he could not persuade himself to be the first to inculcate into George ideas which could only be called snobbish. He was a democrat. Nevertheless he did not like George to play with Peter Clowes.
The small Peter, with uplifted face and clasped hands, repeated urgently, passionately:
"O God! We all three on us want ye to send George Edwin Clay’anger a two-bladed penknife. Now lads, kneel, and all three on us together!"
He stood between the taller and better-dressed boys unashamed, fervent, a born religionist. He was not even praying for himself. He was praying out of his profound impersonal interest in the efficacy of prayer.
The three boys, kneeling, and so disappearing from sight behind the wall, repeated together:
"O God! Please send George Edwin Clayhanger a two-bladed penknife."
Then George and Bert stood up again, shuffling about. Peter Clowes did not reappear.
"I can’t help it," whispered Ingpen in a strange, moved voice, "I’ve got to be God. Here goes! And it’s practically new, too!"
Edwin in the darkness could see him feeling in his waistcoat pocket, and then raise his arm, and, taking careful aim, throw in the direction of the dimly lighted yard.
"Oh!" came the cry of George, in sudden pain.