ally no good for him to
try to write poetry with anything but a pencil, because he always sucks
whatever he writes with, and ink is poisonous, I believe.

Then in the afternoon he and Noel got quite thick, and went off
together. And afterwards Noel seemed very peacocky about something, but
he would not say what, and Archibald was grinning in a way Oswald would
have liked to pound his head for.

Then, quite suddenly, the peaceable quietness of that happy Blackheath
home was brought to a close by screams. Servants ran about with brooms
and pails, and the water was coming through the ceiling of uncle's room
like mad, and Noel turned white and looked at our unattractive cousin
and said: "Send him away."

Alice put her arm round Noel and said: "Do go, Archibald."

But he wouldn't.

So then Noel said he wished he had never been born, and whatever would
Father say.

"Why, what is it, Noel?" Alice asked that. "Just tell us, we'll all
stand by you. What's he been doing?"

"You won't let him do anything to me if I tell?"

"Tell tale tit," said Archibald.

"He got me to go up into the loft and he said it was a secret, and would
I promise not to tell, and I won't tell; only I've done it, and now the
water's coming in."

"You've done it? You young ass, I was only kidding you!" said our
detestable cousin. And he laughed.

"I don't understand," said Oswald. "What did you tell Noel?"

"He can't tell you because he promised--and I won't--unless you vow by
the honour of the house you talk so much about that you'll never tell I
had anything to do with it."

That will show you what he was. We had never mentioned the honour of the
house except once quite at the beginning, before we knew how discapable
he was of understanding anything, and how far we were from wanting to
call him Archie.

We had to promise, for Noel was getting greener and more gurgly every
minute, and at any moment Father or uncle might burst in foaming for an
explanation, and none of us would have one except Noel, and him in this
state of all-anyhow.

So Dicky said--

"We promise, you beast, you!" And we all said the same.

Then Archibald said, drawling his words and feeling for the moustache
that wasn't there, and I hope he'll be quite old before he gets one--

"It's just what comes of trying to amuse silly little kids. I told the
foolish little animal about people having arteries cut, and your having
to cut the whole thing to stop the bleeding. An