"What is it?" whispered Bill.
Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very
quietly he went down on his knees, and listened again. Then he
put his ear to the floor. He got up and dusted himself quickly,
walked across to Bill and whispered in his ear:
"Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up."
Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and
stepped firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to
himself. He took the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on
the floor, said, "Oh, Lord!" and went on:
"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
"Then what do you want to do?"
"Talk."
"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
"There's a seat on the lawn I saw it. Let's bring these things
along in case we want to play, after all."
"Right-o!" said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing
to commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
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