“And we must all help someone,” went on the urgent voice.  “If we have turned ourselves, we must help someone else to turn....”

Determined and eager was the eye that the small girl turned upon William, and William realised that his time had come.  He was to be converted.  He felt almost thrilled by the prospect.  He was so enthralled that he received absent-mindedly, and without gratitude, the mountainous bull’s-eye passed to him from Ginger, and only gave a half-hearted smile when a well-aimed pellet from Henry’s hand sent one of the prophetess’s cherries swinging high in the air.

After the class the pink-checked girl (whose name most appropriately was Deborah) stalked William for several yards and finally cornered him.

“William,” she said, “are you going to turn?”

“I’m goin’ to think about it,” said William guardedly.

“William, I think you ought to turn.  I’ll help you,” she added sweetly.

William drew a deep breath.  “All right, I will,” he said.

She heaved a sigh of relief.

“You’ll begin now, won’t you?” she said earnestly.

William considered.  There were several things that he had wanted to do for some time, but hadn’t managed to do yet.  He had not tried turning off the water at the main, and hiding the key and seeing what would happen; he hadn’t tried shutting up the cat in the hen-house; he hadn’t tried painting his long-suffering mongrel Jumble with the pot of green paint that was in the tool shed; he hadn’t tried pouring water into the receiver of the telephone; he hadn’t tried locking the cook into the larder.  There were, in short, whole fields of crime entirely unexplored.  All these things—­and others—­must be done before the reformation.

“I can’t begin jus’ yet,” said William.  “Say day after to-morrow.”

She considered this for a minute.

“Very well,” she said at last reluctantly, “day after to-morrow.”

* * * * *

The next day dawned bright and fair.  William arose with a distinct sense that something important had happened.  Then he thought of the reformation.  He saw himself leading a quiet and blameless life, walking sedately to school, working at high pressure in school, doing his homework conscientiously in the evening, being exquisitely polite to his family, his instructors, and the various foolish people who visited his home for the sole purpose (apparently) of making inane remarks to him.  He saw all this, and the picture was far from unattractive—­in the distance.  In the immediate future, however, there were various quite important things to be done.  There was a whole normal lifetime of crime to be crowded into one day.  Looking out of his window he espied the gardener bending over one of the beds.  The gardener had a perfectly bald head.  William had sometimes idly imagined the impact of a pea sent violently