blight had fallen on our young lives. Oswald could have answered
and said, 'It is the Society of the Wouldbegoods that is the
blight,' but of course he didn't and Albert's uncle said no more,
but he went up and kissed the girls when they were in bed, and
asked them if there was anything wrong. And they told him no, on
their honour.

The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the
morning sun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms
of his dear little brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on
top of his head and was snoring like a kettle when it sings.
Oswald could not remember at first what was the matter with him,
and then he remembered the Wouldbegoods, and wished he hadn't. He
felt at first as if there was nothing you could do, and even
hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny's head. But he soon saw that
this could not be. So he chucked his boot and caught Denny right
in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began more brightly than he
had expected.

Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before,
except that when no one was looking he polished the brass
candlestick in the girls' bedroom with one of his socks. And he
might just as well have let it alone, for the servants cleaned it
again with the other things in the morning, and he could never find
the sock afterwards. There were two servants. One of them had to
be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane and Eliza like others. She
was cook and managed things.

After breakfast Albert's uncle said--