d groans.

He went downstairs into the hall, still singing. It was earlier than
he thought--just five o'clock. The maids were not down yet. He
switched on lights recklessly, and discovered that he was not the only
person in the hall. His four-year-old cousin Jimmy was sitting on the
bottom step in an attitude of despondency, holding an empty tin.

Jimmy's mother had influenza at home, and Jimmy and his small sister
Barbara were in the happy position of spending Christmas with
relations, but immune from parental or maternal interference.

"They've gotten out," said Jimmy, sadly. "I got 'em for presents
yesterday, an' they've gotten out. I've been feeling for 'em in the
dark, but I can't find 'em."

"What?" said William.

"Snails. Great big suge ones wiv great big suge shells. I put 'em in a
tin for presents an' they've gotten out an' I've gotten no presents
for nobody."

He relapsed into despondency.

William surveyed the hall.

"They've got out right enough!" he said, sternly. "They've got out
right _enough_. Jus' look at our hall! Jus' look at our clothes!
They've got out _right_ enough."

Innumerable slimy iridescent trails shone over hats, and coats, and
umbrellas, and wall-paper.

"Huh!" grunted William, who was apt to overwork his phrases. "They've
got _out_ right enough."

He looked at the tracks again and brightened. Jimmy was frankly
delighted.

"Oo! Look!" he cried, "Oo _funny_!"

William's thoughts flew back to his bedroom wall--"A Busy Day is a
Happy Day."

"Let's clean it up!" he said. "Let's have it all nice an' clean for
when they come down. We'll be busy. You tell me if you feel happy when
we've done. It might be true wot it says, but I don't like the flowers
messin' all over it."

Investigation in the kitchen provided them with a large pail of water
and a scrubbing-brush each.

For a long time they worked in silence. They used plenty of water.
When they had finished the trails were all gone. Each soaked garment
on the hat-stand was sending a steady drip on to the already flooded
floor. The wall-paper was sodden. With a feeling of blankness they
realised that there was nothing else to clean.

It was Jimmy who conceived the exquisite idea of dipping his brush in
the bucket and sprinkling William with water. A scrubbing-brush is in
many ways almost as good as a hose. Each had a pail of ammunition.
Each had a good-sized brush. During the next few minutes they
experienced purest joy.