SOMETHING IN THE AIR

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXX, Issue 20165, 20 July 1935, Page 13

SOMETHING IN THE AIR

Trousers of green, jacket and jaunty cap of scarlet wore this notorious bandit of Sherwood Forest, who robbed the rich to give to the poor. See how prettily you can colour his picture to-day.

Little Peggy Timkins stood on the pavement and stared hard at her home on the opposite side of the road. Her feet shuffled impatiently, and sometimes she would run a little way up the street, and then a little way down, ever craning her neck and straining her eyes in excited expectation.

Along the footpath came old Mr Dodd, and as he approached Peggy he was puzzled by her mysterious antics. He stood beside her, and was just about to make a kind inquiry about her health when off Peggy fluttered again, only to repeat her performance a little farther on. Mr Dodd followed and, noticing the direction of her intent gaze, he fumbled in his pocket, found his glasses, perched them on the end of his nose, and stared too.

Mrs Bunlet and Mrs Lockie came down the street with their baskets on their arms, just in time to see Peggy twitch away from her old companion, who followed her hurriedly. The two good ladies paused behind Mr Dodd.

“ What is it, Mr Dodd?” asked Mrs Bunlet curiously; but at that moment off went Peggy again. Mr Dodd said, "Pardon me—one moment,” and followed after, while Mrs Bunlet and Mrs Lockie exchanged questioning glances and joined the gaping couple. A policeman approached, stood behind the little group, stared hard at them, and then hard at where all the others appeared to be staring. By this time Peggy had her hands

clasped in excitement and she swayed alarmingly on the foot which her other foot was treading on. Mrs Lockie turned to the policeman for information. “What is it, inspector?” she asked. The constable, who was not an inspector but thought he might soon be a sergeant, was about to explain all he knew when Peggy moved yet again. The whole group shuffled after her, Mr Dodd and Mrs Lockie holding a thrilling conversation about deaths and births and ambulances. An errand-boy stopped his bicycle and came to rest all aslant with one leg on the kerb. They stared and stared. They stared at Peggy’s house until they realised that there was nothing special to stare at; then they stared at Peggy and tried to follow where her eyes were staring. They seemed to stare sky-

wards, and so everybody then stared beyond the rooftops, straining to see perhaps an aeroplane; but, stare as they might, there was nothing in the grey sky. And yet here was Peggy, bobbing and twittering more than ever. Suddenly she gave a little squeaky yell. “It’s out!” she piped, and darted off aross the road. The others stared at the closing door and then looked upwards—just in time to see a sweep’s brush sinking slowly into a chimney-pot again.