THE GOLDEN AGE
Edward slouched up alongside of me presently, with a hangdog look on him, as if he had been caught stealing jam. 'What a lark it'll be when she's really gone!' he observed, with a swagger obviously assumed.
'Grand fun!' I replied dolorously; and conversation flagged.
We reached the hen-house, and contemplated the banner of freedom lying ready to flaunt the breezes at the supreme moment.
'Shall you run it up,' I asked, 'when the fly starts, or—or wait a little till it's out of sight?'
Edward gazed round him dubiously. 'We're going to have some rain, I think,' he said; 'and—and it's a new flag. It would be a pity to spoil it. P'raps I won't run it up at all.'
Harold came round the corner like a bison pursued by Indians. 'I've polished up the cannons,' he cried, 'and they look grand! Mayn't I load 'em now?'
'You leave 'em alone,' said Edward severely, 'or you'll be blowing yourself up' (consideration for others was not usually Edward's strong
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