THE WOULDBEGOODS
linen cupboard. We brought out several glasses and some teacups—not the best ones, Oswald was firm about that—and the kettle and spirit-lamp and the teapot, in case any weary tramp-woman fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. and Noël had to go down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; they had not carried any of the water. And their having to go the second time was only because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to put on the bar to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The man at the shop kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out of our next week's pocket-money.
Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but no one said anything except the man who said, "Bloomin' Sunday-school treat," and as it was too early in the day for any one to be thirsty we did not stop the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slaked without cost at our Benevolent Bar.
But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened on our breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard we had made with "Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers," in white wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. We had meant to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pin it to the front of the table-cloth, because I am sorry to say the awning went wrong from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into the road; it was much too hard.
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