At other moments William might have made a practical protest against the appellation. But he felt his present position to be too precarious for active aggression. He merely replied coldly:
"If you belong 'ere," went on the milk-boy cheerfully, having filled the jug, "tell 'em they've forgot the money. So long! Be good!"
With a certain relief they watched his figure disappear round the gateway. John at once raised his voice.
"Wanner be a _save_," he demanded tearfully.
[Illustration: "HERE, HAVE A DRINK OF NICE MILK," SAID WILLIAM. THE TWINS OBEYED. THEY FOUGHT FOR THE MILK-JUG, BUT BOTH MANAGED TO DRINK A FAIR AMOUNT.]
"Here, have a drink of nice milk," he said.
They obeyed. They fought for the milk-jug, and spilt some upon their labels and some upon their coats, but they both managed to drink a fair amount. Finally, they put down the empty jug between them and beamed complacently upon the world again.
"Let's leave 'em and go an' spend the shilling," said William. "An' then come back an' rescue them."
William and Ginger went slowly down the drive. At the end they turned round. The twins were sitting side by side on the doorstop, smiling and waving fat hands. Their labels were milky and slightly awry, but still they adhered to their persons. William and Ginger turned into the road. William took out the shilling.
"I say," said Ginger, "I--I suppose it's honest?"
"Honest!" said William scornfully. "'S more than honest. We've _give_ them a penny. The slaves was sixpence halfpenny each--proper price--an' we've only took a shilling."
The shilling was successful. It provided them with liquorice, bull's eyes, two surprise packets, and an indiarubber ball. In their bliss they forgot the flight of time. It was Ginger who remembered it first.
"I say," he said, "we'd better be doin' that rescuin' quick. Their mother'll be here soon."
They set off down the road. Both walked jauntily, as though to hide some secret apprehension.
"Hope we'll be able to rescue them," said William, with an attempt at lightness.
"Oh, that'll be all right," said Ginger, with an unconvincing carelessness of tone.
In both their minds was a horrible vision in which the twins' mother played the part of avenging fury.
They walked up the drive. The twins were not on the doorstep. A broken milk-jug alone marked the scene of their parting from the twins. Their hearts sank yet farther as they surveyed it.