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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 09:30:52 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 09:30:52 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07a74ec --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66971 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66971) diff --git a/old/66971-0.txt b/old/66971-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fd3c3b1..0000000 --- a/old/66971-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8300 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of William—The Fourth, by Richmal -Crompton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: William—The Fourth - -Author: Richmal Crompton - -Illustrator: Thomas Henry - -Release Date: December 19, 2021 [eBook #66971] - -Language: English - -Produced by: deaurider, Alan and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM—THE FOURTH *** - - - - - -WILLIAM--THE FOURTH - - - - -_By the Same Author_ - - - (1) JUST WILLIAM - (2) MORE WILLIAM - (3) WILLIAM AGAIN - (4) WILLIAM--THE FOURTH - (5) STILL--WILLIAM - (6) WILLIAM--THE CONQUEROR - (7) WILLIAM--THE OUTLAW - (8) WILLIAM--IN TROUBLE - (9) WILLIAM--THE GOOD - (10) WILLIAM - (11) WILLIAM--THE BAD - (12) WILLIAM’S HAPPY DAYS - (13) WILLIAM’S CROWDED HOURS - (14) WILLIAM--THE PIRATE - (15) WILLIAM--THE REBEL - (16) WILLIAM--THE GANGSTER - (17) WILLIAM--THE DETECTIVE - (18) SWEET WILLIAM - (19) WILLIAM--THE SHOWMAN - (20) WILLIAM--THE DICTATOR - (21) WILLIAM AND A.R.P. - (22) WILLIAM AND THE EVACUEES - (23) WILLIAM DOES HIS BIT - (24) WILLIAM CARRIES ON - (25) WILLIAM AND THE BRAINS TRUST - (26) JUST WILLIAM’S LUCK - (27) WILLIAM--THE BOLD - (28) WILLIAM AND THE TRAMP - - * * * * * - - JIMMY - JIMMY AGAIN - - - - -[Illustration: “YOU CAN LOOK AT THE ALBUM WHILE I AM GETTING READY.” -WILLIAM WAS TRAPPED, TRAPPED IN A HUGE AND HORRIBLE DRAWING-ROOM, BY A -HUGE AND HORRIBLE WOMAN. (_See page 38._)] - - - - - WILLIAM--THE - FOURTH - - BY - - RICHMAL CROMPTON - - ILLUSTRATED BY - - THOMAS HENRY - - LONDON - - GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED - - TOWER HOUSE, SOUTHAMPTON STREET - STRAND, W.C. 2 - - - - - _Copyright_ - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - - _First Published_ _1924_ - - - - _Printed in Great Britain by - Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London, Fakenham and Reading_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE WEAK SPOT 13 - - II. WILLIAM AND PHOTOGRAPHY 28 - - III. THE FÊTE--AND FORTUNE 42 - - IV. WILLIAM ALL THE TIME 59 - - V. AUNT JANE’S TREAT 75 - - VI. “KIDNAPPERS” 89 - - VII. WILLIAM’S EVENING OUT 108 - - VIII. WILLIAM ADVERTISES 124 - - IX. WILLIAM AND THE BLACK CAT 143 - - X. WILLIAM THE SHOWMAN 158 - - XI. WILLIAM’S EXTRA DAY 175 - - XII. WILLIAM ENTERS POLITICS 195 - - XIII. WILLIAM MAKES A NIGHT OF IT 210 - - XIV. A DRESS REHEARSAL 227 - - - - -TO - -GWEN - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE WEAK SPOT - - -“You see,” said Jameson Jameson, “we’re all human beings. That’s a very -important point. You must admit that we’re all human beings?” - -Jameson Jameson, aged nineteen and three-quarters, was very eloquent. -He paused more for rhetorical effect than because he really needed -confirmation on the point. His audience, all under nineteen, agreed -hoarsely and unanimously. - -They were all human beings. They admitted it. - -“Well, then,” Jameson continued, warming to his subject, “as human -beings we’re equal. As being equal we’ve got equal rights, I suppose. -Anyone deny that?” - -Robert Brown, aged seventeen, in whose room the meeting took place, -leaned forward eagerly. He was thoroughly enjoying the meeting. The -only drawback was the presence of his younger brother, William, aged -eleven. By some mistake someone had admitted William, and by some still -greater mistake no one had ejected him; and now it was too late. He -gave no excuse for ejection. He was sitting motionless, his hands on -his knees, his eyes, under their untidy shock of hair, glued on the -speaker, his mouth wide open. There was no doubt at all that he was -impressed. But Robert wished he wasn’t there. He felt that the presence -of a kid was an insult to the mature intelligences round him, most of -whom were in their first year at college. - -But no one seemed to mind, so he contented himself with sitting so that -he could not see William. - -“Well,” continued Jameson Jameson, “then why aren’t we equal? Why are -some rich and some poor? Why do some work and others not? Tell me that.” - -There was no answer--only a gasp of wonder and admiration. - -Jameson Jameson (whose parents had perpetrated on him the supreme -practical joke of giving him his surname for a Christian name, so that -people who addressed him by his full name always seemed to be indulging -in some witticism) brought down his fist upon the table with a bang. - -“Then it’s somebody’s duty to make us equal. It’s only common justice, -isn’t it? You admit that? Those who haven’t money must be given money, -and those who have too much must have some taken off them. We want -Equality. And no more Tyranny. The working-class must have Freedom. And -who’s going to do it?” - -He thrust his hand into his coat front in a manner reminiscent of the -late Mr. Gladstone and glared at his audience from under scowling brows. - -“Ah, who?” gasped the audience. - -“It’s here that the Bolshevists come in!” - -“Bolshevists?” said Robert, aghast. - -“The Bolshevists are very much misjudged and--er--maligned,” retorted -Jameson Jameson, with emotion. “Shamefully misjudged and----” he wasn’t -sure whether he’d pronounced it right, so he ended feebly, “what I said -before. I’m not,” he admitted frankly, “in direct communication with -Lenin, but I’ve read about it in a magazine, and I know a bit about it -from that. The Bolshevists want to share things out so as we’re equal, -and that’s only right, isn’t it? ’Cause we’re all human beings, and -as such are equal, and as such have equal rights. Well, that’s clear, -isn’t it? Does anyone,” he glared round fiercely, “wish to contradict -me?” - -No one did. William, who was sitting in a draught, sneezed and was -annihilated by a glance from Robert. - -“Well,” he continued, “I propose to form a Bolshevist Society, first -of all, just to start with. You see, the Bolshevists have gone to -extremes, but we’ll join the Bolshevist party and--and purge it of all -where it’s wrong now. Now, who’ll join the Society?” - -As human beings with equal rights they were all anxious to join. They -were all fired to the soul by Jameson Jameson’s eloquence. Even William -pressed onward to give in his name, but was sternly ordered away by -Robert. - -“But I believe all you do,” he pleaded wistfully, “’bout want’n other -people’s money an’ thinking we oughtn’t to work.” - -“You’ve misunderstood me, my young friend,” said Jameson Jameson, with -a sigh, “but we want numbers. There’s no reason why----” - -“If that kid belongs, I’m not going to,” said Robert firmly. - -“We might have a Junior Branch----” suggested one of them. - -So thus it was finally settled. William became the Junior Branch of the -Society of Reformed Bolshevists. Alone he was President and Secretary -and Committee and Members. He resented any suggestion of enlarging -the Junior Branch. He preferred to form the Branch himself. He held -meetings of his Branch under the laurel bushes in the garden, and made -eloquent speeches to an audience consisting of a few depressed daffodil -roots, and sometimes the cat from next door. - -“All gotter be equal,” he pronounced fiercely, “all gotter have lots -of money. All ’uman beings. That’s _sense_, isn’t it? Is it _sense_ or -isn’t it?” - -The cat from next door scratched its ear and slowly winked. - -“Well, _then_,” said William, “someone ought to _do_ somethin’.” - -The Society of Advanced Bolshevists met next month in Robert’s room. -William had left nothing to chance. He had heard Robert saying that -he’d see no kids got in to this one, so he installed himself under -Robert’s bed before anyone arrived. Robert looked round the room with -a keen and threatening gaze before he ushered Jameson Jameson into the -chair, or, to be more accurate, on to the bed. The meeting began. - -“Comrades,” began Jameson Jameson, “we have, I hope, all spent this -time in thinking things out and making ourselves more devoted to the -cause. But now is the time for action. We’ve got to _do_ something. If -we had any money ’cept the mean bit that our fathers allow us we could -make people jolly well sit up--we could----” - -Here William, who had just inhaled a large mouthful of dust, sneezed -loudly, and Robert made a dive beneath the bed. In the scuffle that -ensued William embedded his teeth deeply into Jameson Jameson’s ankle, -and vengeance was vowed on either side. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM MADE ELOQUENT SPEECHES TO AN AUDIENCE OF -DEPRESSED DAFFODIL ROOTS AND THE CAT FROM NEXT DOOR.] - -“Well, why can’t I come? I’m a Bolshevist too like wot all you are!” - -“Well, you’ve got a Branch of your own,” said Robert fiercely. - -Jameson Jameson was still standing on one leg and holding the other in -two hands with an expression of (fortunately) speechless agony on his -face. - -“Look!” went on Robert, “you may have maimed him for life for all you -know, and he’s the life and soul of the Cause, and what can he do with -a maimed foot? You’ll have to keep him all his life if he is maimed for -life, and when the Bolshevists get in power he’ll have your blood--and -I shan’t mind,” he added, darkly. - -Jameson Jameson gave a feeble smile. - -“It’s all right, Comrade,” he said, “I harbour no thoughts of -vengeance. I hope I can bear more than this for the Cause.” - -Very ungently William was deposited on the landing outside. - -“You can keep your nasty little Branch to yourself, and don’t come -bothering us,” was Robert’s parting shot. - -It was then that William realised the power of numbers. He resolved at -once to enlarge his Branch. - -Rubbing the side on which he had descended on the landing, and frowning -fiercely, he went downstairs and out into the road. Near the gate -was Victor Jameson, Jameson Jameson’s younger brother, gazing up at -Robert’s bedroom window, which could be seen through the trees. - -“He’s up there talkin’,” he muttered scornfully. “Doesn’t he _talk_?” - -The tone of contempt was oil on the troubled waters of William’s -feelings. - -“I’ve just bit him hard,” he said modestly. - -The two linked arms affectionately and set off down the road. At the -corner of the road they fell in with George Bell. William had left -Ronald Bell, George’s elder brother, leaning against the mantelpiece in -Robert’s room and examining himself in the glass. He was letting his -hair grow long, and he hoped it was beginning to show. - -“What do they _do_ up at your house?” demanded George with curiosity. -“He won’t tell me anything. He says it’s secret. He says no one’s got -to know now, but all the world will know some day. That’s what he -_says_.” - -“_Huh_,” said Victor scornfully, “they _talk_. That’s all they do. They -_talk_.” - -“Let’s find a few more,” said William, “an’ I’ll tell you all about it.” - -It being Saturday afternoon they soon collected the few more, and the -company returned to the summer-house at the end of William’s garden. -The company consisted chiefly of younger brothers of the members of the -gathering upstairs. - -William rose to address them with one hand inside his coat in an -attitude copied faithfully from Jameson Jameson. - -“They’ve gotter ole society,” he said, “an’ they’ve made me a Branch, -so I can make all you Branches. So, now you’re all Branches. See? Well, -they say how we’re all ’uman bein’s an’ equal. Well, they say if we’re -equal we oughtn’t to have less money an’ things than other folks, and -more work to do, an’ all that. That’s wot I heard ’em say.” - -Here the cat from next door, drawn by the familiar sound of William’s -voice, peered into the summer-house, and was promptly dismissed by a -well-aimed stick. It looked reproachfully at William as it departed. - -“And to-day they said,” went on William, “that now is the time for -_Action_, an’ how we’d only the mean bit of money our fathers gave us; -and then they found me an’ I bit his leg, and they threw me out, an’ I -bet I’ve got a big ole bruise on my side, an’ I bet he’s got a bigger -ole bite on his leg.” - -He sat down, amid applause, and George, acting with a generosity born -of a sudden feeling of comradeship, took a stick of rock from his -pocket and passed it round for a suck each. This somewhat disturbed -the harmony of the meeting, as “Ginger,” William’s oldest friend, was -accused of biting a piece off, and the explanation, that it “came off -in his mouth,” was not accepted by the irate owner, who was already -regretting his generosity. The combatants were parted by William, and -peace was sealed by the passing round of a bottle of liquorice water -belonging to Victor Jameson. - -Then William rose for a second speech. - -“Well, we’re all Branches, so let’s do same as them. They’re goin’ to -get equal cause they’re ’uman bein’s; so let’s try and get equal too.” - -“Equal with what?” demanded Douglas, whose elder brother had joined -Jameson Jameson’s society, and had secretly purchased a red tie, which -he did not dare to wear in public, but which he donned behind a tree -on his way to William’s house, and doffed in the same place on his way -from William’s house. - -“Equal to _them_,” said William. “Why, just think of the things they’ve -got. They’ve got lots of money, haven’t they?--lots more than what we -have, an’ they can buy anything they want, an’ they stay up for dinner -always, and go out late at night, an’ eat what they want with no one -sayin’ had they better, or cert’nly not, or what happened last time, -an’ they smoke an’ don’t go to school, an’ go to the pictures, an’ -they’ve got lots more things ’n we’ve got--bicycles an’ grammerphones, -an’ fountain-pens, an’ watches, an’ things what we’ve not got. Well, -an’ we’re ’uman beings, too, an’ we ought to be equal, an’ why shun’t -we be equal?--an’ now’s the time for _Action!_ They said so.” - -[Illustration: ... AN’ WE’RE ’UMAN BEINGS, TOO, AN’ WE OUGHT TO BE -EQUAL, AN’ WHY SHUN’T WE BE EQUAL?...”] - -There was a silence. - -“But----” said Douglas slowly, “we can’t just _take_ things, can we?” - -“Yes,” said William, “we _can_ if we’re Bolshevists. They said so. An’ -we’re all Bolshevist Branches. They made me, an’ I made you. See? So -we can take anything to make us equal. See? We’ve got to be equal.” - -Here the meeting was stopped by the spectacle of the Senior Bolshevists -issuing from the side door wearing frowns of stern determination. -Douglas’s brother fingered his red tie ostentatiously; Ronald pulled -down his cap over his eyes with the air of a conspirator; Jameson -Jameson limped slightly and smiled patiently and forgivingly upon -Robert, who was still apologising for William. The words that were -wafted across to listening ears upon the Spring breeze were: “Next -Tuesday, then.” - -Then the Branches turned to a discussion of details. They were nothing -if not practical. After about a quarter of an hour they departed, -each pulling his cap over his eye and frowning. As they departed they -murmured: “Next Tuesday, then.” - -Next Tuesday dawned bright and clear, with no hint that it was one of -those days on which the world’s fate is decided. - -The Senior Bolshevists met in the morning. They discussed the -possibility of getting into touch with Lenin, but no one knew his exact -address, or the rate of postage to Russia, so no definite step was -taken. - -During the afternoon Robert followed his father into the library. His -face was set and stern. - -“Look here, father,” he said, “we’ve been thinking--some of us. Things -don’t seem fair. We’re all human beings. It’s time for action. We’ve -all agreed to speak to our fathers to-day and point things out to them. -They’ve been misjudged and maligned, but we’re going to purge them of -all that. You see, we’re all human beings, and it’s time for action. -We’re all agreed on that. We’ve got equal rights, because we’re all -human beings.” - -He paused, inserted a finger between his neck and collar as if he found -its pressure intolerable, then smoothed back his hair. He was looking -almost apoplectic. - -“I don’t know whether I make my meaning clear,” he began again. - -“You don’t, old chap, whatever it may be,” said his father soothingly. -“Perhaps you feel the heat?--or the Spring? You ought to take something -cooling, and then lie down for a few hours.” - -“You don’t understand,” said Robert desperately. “It’s life or death to -civilisation. You see, we’re all human beings, and all equal, and we’ve -got equal rights, and yet some have all the things, and some have none. -You see, we thought we’d all start at home and get things made more -fair there, and our fathers to divide up the money more fairly and give -us our real share, and then we could go round teaching other people to -give things up to other people and share things out more fairly. You -see, we must begin at home, and then we start fair. We’re all human -beings with equal rights.” - -“You’re so very modest in your demands,” said Robert’s father. “Would -half be enough for you? Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little more?” - -Robert waved the suggestion aside. - -“No,” he said, “you see, you have the others to keep. But we’ve all -decided to ask our fathers to-day, then we can start fair and have some -funds to go on. A society without funds seems to be so handicapped. -And it would be an example to other fathers all over the world. You -see----” - -At this moment Robert’s mother came in. - -“What a mess your room’s in, Robert! I hope William hasn’t been -rummaging in it.” - -Robert turned pale. - -“William!” he gasped, and fled to investigate. - -He returned in a few minutes, almost inarticulate with fury. - -“My watch!” he said. “My purse! Both gone! I’m going after him.” - -He seized his hat from the hall, and started to the door. His father -watched him, leaning easily against the doorpost of the library, and -smiling. - -From the garden as he passed came a wail. - -“My bicycle! Gone too. The shed’s empty!” - -In the road he met Jameson Jameson. - -“Burglars!” said Jameson Jameson. “All my money’s been taken. And my -camera! The wretches! I’m going to scour the country for them.” - -Various other members of the Bolshevist Society appeared, filled with -wrath and lamenting vanished treasures. - -“It can’t be burglars,” said Robert, “because why only us?” - -“Do you think someone in the Government found out about us being -Bolshevists and is trying to intimidate us?” - -Jameson Jameson thought this very likely, and they discussed it -excitedly in the middle of the road, some hatless, some hatted, all -talking breathlessly. Then at the other end of the road appeared a -group of boys. They were happy, rollicking boys. They all carried bags -of sweets which they ate lavishly and handed round to their friends -equally lavishly. One held a camera--or the remains of a camera--whose -mechanism the entire party had just been investigating. One more had -a large wrist-watch upon a small wrist. One walked (or rather leapt) -upon a silver-topped walking-stick. One, the quietest of the group, was -smoking a cigarette. At the side near the ditch about half a dozen rode -intermittently upon a bicycle. The descent of the bicycle and its cargo -into the ditch was greeted with roars of laughter. They were very happy -boys. They sang as they walked. - -[Illustration: THEN AT THE OTHER END OF THE ROAD APPEARED A GROUP OF -BOYS. THEY WERE HAPPY, ROLLICKING BOYS.] - -“We’ve been to the pictures.” - -“In the best seats.” - -“Bought lots of sweets and a mouth-organ.” - -“We’ve got a bicycle, an’ a camera, an’ two watches, an’ a -fountain-pen, an’ a razor, an’ a football, an’ lots of things.” - -White with fury, the Senior Bolshevists charged down upon them. The -Junior Bolshevists stood their ground firmly, with the exception of the -one who had been smoking a cigarette, and he, perforce a coward for -physical rather than moral reasons, crept quietly home, relinquishing -without reluctance his half-smoked cigarette. In the Homeric battle -that followed, accusations and justifications were hurled to and fro as -the struggle proceeded. - -“You beastly little thieves!” - -“You said to be equal, an’ why should some people have all the things!” - -“You little wretches!” - -“We’re ’uman beings an’ got to _take_ things to make equal. You _said_ -so.” - -“Give it back to me!” - -“Why should you have it an’ not me? It was time for Action, you said.” - -“You’ve _spoilt_ it.” - -“Well, it’s as much mine as yours. We’ve got equal rights. We’re all -’uman beings.” - -But the battle was one-sided, and the Junior Branch, having surrendered -their booty and received punishment, fled in confusion. The Senior -Branch, bending lovingly and sadly over battered treasures, walked -slowly and silently up the road. - - * * * * * - -“About your Society----” began Mr. Brown after dinner. - -“No,” said Robert, “it’s all off. We’ve given it up, after all. We -don’t think there’s much in it, after all. None of us do, now. We feel -quite different.” - -“But you were so enthusiastic about it this afternoon. Sharing fairly, -and all that sort of thing.” - -“Yes,” said Robert. “That’s all very well. It’s all right when you can -get your share of other people’s things, but when other people try to -get their share of your things, then it’s different.” - -“Ah,” said Mr. Brown, “that’s the weak spot. I’m glad you found it -out.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -WILLIAM AND PHOTOGRAPHY - - -Mrs. Adolphus Crane was William’s mother’s second cousin and William’s -godmother. Among the many senseless institutions of grown-up life the -institutions of godmothers and godfathers seemed to William the most -senseless of all. Moreover, Mrs. Adolphus Crane was rich and immensely -respectable--the last person whom Fate should have selected as his -godmother. Fortunately, she lived at a distance, and so was spared the -horrible spectacle of William’s daily crimes. His meetings with her had -not been fortunate, so far, in spite of his family’s earnest desire -that he should impress her favourably. - -There had been that terrible meeting two months ago. William was -running a race with one of his friends. It was quite a novel race -invented by William. The competitors each had their mouths full of -water and the one who could run the farthest without either swallowing -his load or discharging it, won. William in the course of the race -encountered Mrs. Adolphus Crane, who was on her way to William’s house -to pay him a surprise visit. She recognised him and addressed to him -a kindly, affectionate remark. Of course, if he had had time to think -over the matter from all points of view, he might have conceived the -idea of swallowing the water before he answered. But, as he afterwards -explained, he had no time to think. The worst of it was that the -painful incident was witnessed by almost all William’s family from the -drawing-room window. Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s visit on that occasion was a -very short one. She seemed slightly distant. It was felt strongly that -something must be done to win back her favour. William disclaimed all -responsibility. - -“Well, I can’t help it. I _can’t_ help it. I don’t mind. Honestly I -don’t mind if she doesn’t like me. Well, I don’t mind if she doesn’t -come again, either.” - -“But, William, she’s your godmother.” - -“Well,” said the goaded William. “I can’t help _that_. I didn’t do -_that_.” - -When Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s birthday came, William’s mother attacked him -again. - -“You ought to give her something, William, you know, especially after -the way you treated her the last time she came over.” - -“I’ve nothin’ to give her,” said William simply. “She can have that -book Uncle George gave me, if she likes. Yes, she can have that.” He -warmed to the subject. “You know. The one about Ancient Hist’ry. I -don’t mind her having it a bit.” - -“But you haven’t read it.” - -“I don’t mind not readin’ it,” said William generously. “I--I’d like -her to have it,” he went on. - -But it was Mrs. Brown who had the great inspiration. - -“We’ll have William’s photograph taken for her.” - -It was quite simple to say that, and it was quite simple to make -an appointment at the photographer’s, but it was another matter to -provide an escort for him. Mrs. Brown happened to have a bad cold; Mr. -Brown was at the office; Robert, William’s grown-up brother, flatly -refused to go with him. So, after a conversation that lasted almost an -hour, William’s elder sister Ethel was induced, mainly by bribery and -corruption, to go with William to the photographer’s. But she took a -friend with her to act as a buffer state. - -William, at the appointed hour, was in a state of suppressed fury. -To William the lowest depth of humiliation was having his photograph -taken. Mrs. Brown had expended much honest toil upon him. He had been -washed and brushed and combed and manicured till his spirits had sunk -below zero. To William, complete cleanliness was quite incompatible -with happiness. He had been encased in his “best suit”--a thing of -hard, unbending cloth; with that horror of horrors, a stiff collar. - -“Won’t a jersey do?” he had asked plaintively. “It’ll probably make me -ill--give me a sort throat or somethin’--this tight thing at my neck, -an’ I wouldn’t like to be ill--’cause of giving you trouble,” he ended -piously. - -Mrs. Brown was touched--she was the one being in the world who never -lost faith in William. - -“But you wear it every Sunday, dear,” she protested. - -“Sundays is different,” he said. “Everyone wears silly things on -Sundays--but, but s’pose I met someone on my way there.” His horror was -pathetic. - -“Well, you look very nice, dear. Where are your gloves.” - -“_Gloves?_” he said indignantly. - -“Yes--to keep your hands clean till you get there.” - -“Is anyone goin’ to _give_ me anythin’ for doin’ all this?” - -She sighed. - -“No, dear. It’s to give pleasure to your godmother. I know you like -to give people pleasure.” William was silent cogitating over this -entirely new aspect of his character. - -He set off down the road with Ethel and her friend Blanche. Bosom -friends of his, with jerseys, with normal dirty hands and faces, passed -him and stared at him in amazement. - -He acknowledged their presence only by a cold stare. On ordinary -days he was a familiar figure on that road himself, also comfortably -jerseyed and gloriously dirty. He would then have greeted them with a -war-whoop and a friendly punch. But now he was an outcast, a pariah, a -thing apart--a boy in his best clothes and kid gloves on an ordinary -morning. - -The photographer was awaiting them. William returned his smile of -welcome with a scowl. - -“So this is our little friend?” said the photographer. “And what is his -name?” - -William grew purple. - -Ethel began to enjoy it. - -“Willie,” she said. - -Now, there were many insults that William had learned to endure with -outward equanimity, but this was not one. Ethel knew perfectly well his -feeling with regard to the name “Willie.” It was a deliberate revenge -because she had to waste a whole morning on him. Moreover, Ethel had -various scores to wipe off against William, and it was not often that -she had him entirely at her mercy. - -William growled. That is the only word that describes the sound emitted. - -“Pretty name for a pretty boy,” commented the photographer in sprightly -vein. - -Ethel and Blanche gurgled. William, dark and scowling, looked -unspeakable things at them. - -“Come forward,” said the photographer invitingly. “Any preparations? -Fancy dress?” - -“I think not,” gurgled Ethel. - -“I have some nice costumes,” he persisted. “A little page? Bubbles? But -perhaps the hair is hardly suitable. Cupid? I have some pretty wings -and drapery. But perhaps the little boy’s expression is hardly---- -No, I think not,” hastily, as he encountered the fixed intensity of -William’s scowling gaze. “Remove the cap and gloves, my little chap.” - -He looked up and down William’s shining, immaculate person. “Ah, very -nice.” - -He waved Ethel and Blanche to a seat. - -“Now, my boy----” - -He waved the infuriated William to a rustic woodland scene at the other -end. - -“Now, stand just here. That’s right. No, not quite so stiff--and--no, -not quite so hunched up, my little chap ... the hands resting -carelessly ... one on the hip, I think ... just easy and natural ... -_that’s_ right ... but no, hardly. Relax the brow a little. And--ah, -no ... not a grimace ... it would spoil a pretty picture ... the feet -so ... and the head _so_ ... the hair is slightly deranged ... that’s -better.” - -Let it stand to William’s eternal credit that he resisted the -temptation to bite the photographer’s hand as it strayed among his -short locks. At last he was posed and the photographer returned to the -camera, but during his return William moved feet, hands, and head to an -easier position. The photographer sighed. - -“Ah, he’s moved. William’s moved. What a pity! We’ll have to begin all -over again.” - -He returned to William, and very patiently he rearranged William’s feet -and hands and head. - -“The toes turned out--not in, you see, Willie, and the hands _so_, and -the head slightly on one side ... _so_, no, not right down on to the -shoulder ... ah, that’s right ... that’s sweet, a very pretty picture.” - -Ethel had retired hysterically behind a screen. - -The photographer returned to his camera. William promptly composed his -limbs more comfortably. - -“Ah, what a pity! Willie’s moved again. We shall have to commence -afresh.” - -He returned to William and again put his unwilling head on one side, -his hand upon his hip, and turned William’s stout boots at a graceful -angle. - -He returned. William was clinging doggedly to his pose. Anything to put -an end to this torture. - -“Ah, right,” commented the photographer. “Splendid! Ve-ry pretty. The -head just a lee-eetle more on one side. The expression a lee-eetle -less--melancholy. A smile, please--just a lee-eetle smile. Ah, no,” -hastily, as William savagely bared his teeth, “perhaps it is better -without the smile.” Suppressed gurgles came from behind the screen -where Ethel clung helplessly to Blanche. “One more, please. _Sitting_, -I think, this time. The legs crossed--easily and naturally--_so_. -The elbow resting on the arm of the chair and the cheek upon the -hand--_so_.” He retired to a distance and examined the effect, with his -head on one side. “A little spoilt by the expression, perhaps--but very -pretty. The expression a lee-eetle less--er--fierce, if you will pardon -the word.” William here deigned to speak. - -“I can’t look any different to this,” he remarked coldly. - -“Now, think of the things I say,” went on the photographer, brightly. -“Sweeties? Ah!” looking merrily at William’s unchangingly ferocious -expression. “Do I see a saucy little smile?” As a matter of fact, he -didn’t, because at that moment Ethel, her eyes streaming, peeped round -the screen for another look at the priceless sight of William in his -best suit, in the familiar attitude of the Bard of Avon. Encountering -the concentrated fury of William’s gaze, she retired hastily. - -[Illustration: AT THAT MOMENT ETHEL PEEPED ROUND THE SCREEN FOR ANOTHER -LOOK AT THE PRICELESS SIGHT OF WILLIAM IN THE FAMILIAR ATTITUDE OF THE -BARD OF AVON.] - -“Seaside with spade and bucket?” went on the photographer, watching -William’s unchanging expression. “Pantomimes? That nice, soft, furry -pussy cat you’ve got at home?” But seeing William’s expression change -from one of scornful fury to one of Nebuchadnezzan rage and fury, he -hastily pressed the little ball lest worse should follow. - -Ethel’s description of the morning considerably enlivened the lunch -table. Only Mrs. Brown did not join in the roars of laughter. - -“But I think it sounds very nice, dear,” she said, “very nice. I’m very -much looking forward to the proofs coming.” - -“Well, it was priceless,” said Ethel. “It was ever so much funnier than -the pantomime. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. For years to -come, if I feel depressed, I shall just think of William this morning. -His face ... oh, his face!” - -William defended himself. - -“My face is jus’ like anyone else’s face,” he said indignantly. “I -don’t know why you’re all laughing. There’s nothin’ funny about my -face. I’ve never _done_ anythin’ to it. It’s no different to other -people’s. It doesn’t make _me_ laugh.” - -“No, dear,” said Mrs. Brown soothingly, “it’s very, nice--very nice, -indeed. And I’m sure it will be a beautiful photograph.” - -The proofs arrived next week. They were highly appreciated by William’s -family. There were two positions. In one, William, in an attitude -of intellectual contemplation, glowered at them from an artistic -background; in the other, he stood stiffly with one hand on his hip, -his toes (in spite of all) turned resolutely in, and glared ferociously -and defiantly upon the world in general. Mrs. Brown was delighted. “I -think it’s awfully nice,” she said, “and he looks so smart and clean.” - -William, mystified by Robert’s and Ethel’s reception of them, carried -them up to his room and studied them long and earnestly. - -“Well, I can’t see wot’s _funny_ about them,” he said at last, half -indignantly and half mystified. “It doesn’t seem funny to _me_.” - -“You’ll have to write a letter to your godmother, dear,” said Mrs. -Brown, as Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s birthday drew near. - -“_Me?_” said William bitterly. “I should think I’ve done _enough_ for -her.” - -“No,” said Mrs. Brown firmly, “you _must_ write a letter.” - -“I dunno what to _say_ to her.” - -“Say whatever comes into your head.” - -“I dunno how to _spell_ all the words that come in my head.” - -“I’ll help you, dear.” - -Seeing no escape, William sat gloomily down at the table and was -supplied with pen, ink, and paper. He looked round disapprovingly. - -“S’pose I wear out the nib?” he said sadly. Mrs. Brown obligingly -placed a box of nibs at his elbow. He sighed wearily. Life sometimes is -hardly worth living. - -After much patient thought he got as far as “Dear Godmother.” He -occupied the next ten minutes in seeing how far you could bend -apart the two halves of a nib without breaking them. After breaking -six, he wearied of the occupation and returned to his letter. With -deeply-furrowed brow and protruding tongue he continued his efforts. -“Many happy returns of your birthday. I hopp you are verry well. I am -very well and so is mother and father and Ethel and Robbert.” He gazed -out of the window and chewed the end of his penholder into splinters. -Some he swallowed, then choked, and had to retire for a drink of water. -Then he demanded a fresh pen. After about fifteen minutes he returned -to his epistolary efforts. - -“It is not raning to-day,” he wrote, after much thought. Then, “It did -not rane yesterday and we are hoppin’ it will not rane to-morrow.” - -Having exhausted that topic he scratched his head in despair, wrinkled -up his brows, and chewed his penholder again. - -“I have a hole in my stokking,” was his next effort. Then, “I have had -my phottograf took and send it for a birthday present. Some peeple -think it funny but to me it seems alrite. I hopp you will like it. Your -loving godsun, William.” - -Mrs. Adolphus Crane was touched, both by letter and photograph. - -“I must have been wrong,” she said with penitence. “He looks so _good_. -And there’s something rather _sad_ about his face.” - -She asked William to her birthday tea-party. To William this was the -climax of a long chain of insults. - -“But I don’t _want_ to go to tea with her,” he said in dismay. - -“But she wants you, darling,” said Mrs. Brown. “I expect she liked your -photograph.” - -“I’m not going,” said William testily, “if they’re all going to be -laughing at my photograph all the time. I’m jus’ sick of people -laughing at my photograph.” - -“Of course they won’t, dear,” said Mrs. Brown. “It’s a very nice -photograph. You look a bit--depressed in it, that’s all.” - -“Well, that’s not _funny_,” he said indignantly. - -“Of course not, dear. You’ll behave nicely, won’t you?” - -“I’ll behave ordinary,” he said coldly, “but I don’t want to go. I -don’t want to go ’cause--’cause--’cause----” he sought silently for a -reason that might appeal to a grown-up mind, then, with a brilliant -inspiration, “’cause I don’t want my best clothes to get all wore out.” - -“I don’t think they will, dear,” she said; “don’t worry about that.” - -William dejectedly promised not to. - -The afternoon of Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s birthday dawned bright and -clear, and William, resigned and martyred, set off. He arrived early -and was shown into Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s magnificent drawing-room. An -air of magisterial magnificence shed gloom over Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s -whole house. Mrs. Adolphus Crane, as magisterial, and magnificent and -depressing and enormous as her house, entered. - -“Good afternoon, William. Now I’ve a pleasant little surprise for you.” -William’s gloomy countenance brightened. “I’ve put your photograph -into my album. There! What an honour for a little boy!” William’s -countenance relapsed into gloom. - -“You can look at the album while I’m getting ready, and then when the -guests come you can show it to them. Won’t that be nice?” She departed. - -William was trapped--trapped in a huge and horrible drawing-room by -a huge and horrible woman, and he would have to stay there at least -two hours. And Ginger and Henry were bird-nesting! Oh, the horror of -it. Why was he chosen by Fate for this penance? He felt a sudden fury -against the art of photography in general. William’s sudden furies -against anything demanded some immediate outlet. - -So William, with the aid of a pencil, looked at Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s -family album till Mrs. Adolphus Crane was ready. Then she arrived, -and soon after her the guests, or rather such of them as had not -had the presence of mind to invent excuses for their absence. For, -funeral affairs were Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s parties. Liveliness and -hilarity dropped slain on the doorstep. The guests came sadly into -the drawing-room, and Mrs. Adolphus Crane dispensed gloom from the -hearthrug. Her voice was low and deep. - -“How do you do ... thank you so much ... I doubt whether I shall live -to see another ... yes, my _nerves_! By the way--my little godson----” -They turned to look at William who was sitting in silent misery in a -corner, his hands on his knees. He returned their interested stares -with his best company frown. On the chair by him was the album. “Have -you seen the family album?” went on Mrs. Adolphus Crane. “It’s most -interesting. Do look at it.” A group of visitors sadly gathered round -it and one of them opened it. Mrs. Adolphus Crane did not join them. -She knew her album by heart. She took her knitting, sat down by the -fire, and poured forth her knowledge. - -“The first one is great uncle Joshua,” she said, “a splendid old man. -Never touched tobacco or alcoholic drinks in his life.” - -They looked at great uncle Joshua. He sat, grim and earnest and -respectable, with his hand on the table. But a lately-added pipe, in -pencil, adorned his mouth, and his hand seemed to encircle a tankard. -Quite suddenly animation returned to the group by the album. They began -to believe that they were going to enjoy it, after all. - -“Then comes my poor dear mother.” Poor, dear mother wore a large -eye-glass with a black ribbon and a wild Indian head-dress. The group -by the album grew large. There seemed to be some magnetic attraction -about it. - -“Then comes my paternal uncle James, a very handsome man.” - -Paternal uncle James might have been a very handsome man before -his nose had been elongated for several inches, and his lips -curved into an enormous smile, showing gigantic teeth. He smoked a -large-vulgar-looking pipe. - -“A beautiful character, too,” said Mrs. Adolphus Crane. She continued -the family catalogue, and the visitors followed the photographs in the -album. They were all embellished. Some had pipes, some had blue noses, -some black eyes, some giant spectacles, some comic head-dresses. Some -had received more attention than others. Aunt Julia, “a most saintly -woman,” positively leered from her “cabinet,” with a huge nose, and a -black eye, and a cigar in her mouth. The album was handed from one to -another. An unwonted hilarity and vivacity reigned supreme--and always -there were crowds round the album. - -Mrs. Adolphus Crane was surprised, but vaguely flattered. Her party -seemed more successful than usual. People seemed to be taking quite a -lot of notice of William, too. One young curate, who had wept tears -over the album, pressed half a crown into William’s hand. By some -unerring instinct they guessed the author of the outrage. As a matter -of fact, Mrs. Adolphus Crane did not happen to look at her album till -several months later, and then it did not occur to her to connect it -with William. But this afternoon she somehow connected the strange -spirit of cheerfulness that pervaded her drawing-room with him, and was -most gracious to him. - -“He’s been _so_ good,” she said to Mrs. Brown when she arrived to take -William home; “quite helped to make my little party a success.” - -Mrs. Brown concealed her amazement as best she could. - -“But what did you _do_, William?” she said on the way home as William -plodded along beside her, his hands in his pockets lovingly fingering -his half-crown. - -“Me?” said William innocently. “Nothin’.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE FÊTE--AND FORTUNE - - -William took a fancy to Miss Tabitha Croft as soon as he saw her. She -was small and inoffensive-looking. She didn’t look the sort of person -to write irate letters to William’s parents. William was a great judge -of character. He could tell at a glance who was likely to object to -him, who was likely to ignore him, and who was likely definitely to -encourage him. The last was a very rare class indeed. Most people -belonged to the first class. But as he sat on the wall and watched Miss -Tabitha Croft timidly and flutteringly superintending the unloading of -her furniture at her little cottage gate, he came to the conclusion -that she would be very inoffensive indeed. He also came to the -conclusion that he was going to like her. William generally got on well -with timid people. He was not timid himself. He was small and freckled -and solemn and possessed of great tenacity of purpose for his eleven -years. - -Miss Tabitha, happening to look up from the débris of a small table -which one of the removers had carelessly and gracefully crushed against -the wall, saw a boy perched on her wall, scowling at her. She did not -know that the scowl was William’s ordinary normal expression. She -smiled apologetically. - -“Good afternoon,” she said. - -“Arternoon,” said William. - -There was silence for a time while another of the removers took the -door off its hinges with little or no effort by means of a small piano -which he then placed firmly upon another remover’s foot. Then the -silence was broken. During the breaking of silence, William’s scowl -disappeared and a rapt smile appeared on his face. - -“Can’t they think of things to _say_?” he said delightedly to Miss -Tabitha when a partial peace was restored. - -Miss Tabitha raised a face of horror and misery. - -“Oh, dear!” she said in a voice that trembled, “it’s simply dreadful!” - -William’s chivalry (that curious quality) was aroused. He leapt heavily -from the wall. - -“I’ll help,” he said airily. “Don’t you worry.” - -He helped. - -He staggered from the van to the house and from the house to the -van. He worked till the perspiration poured from his freckled brow. -He broke two candlesticks, a fender, a lamp, a statuette, and most -of a breakfast service. After each breakage he said, “Never mind,” -comfortingly to Miss Tabitha and put the pieces tidily in the dustbin. -When he had filled the dustbin he arranged them in a neat pile by the -side of it. He was completely master of the situation. Miss Tabitha -gave up the struggle and sat on a packing-case in the kitchen with some -sal-volatile and smelling-salts. One of the removers gave William a -drink of cold tea--another gave him a bit of cold sausage. William was -blissfully, riotously happy. The afternoon seemed to fly on wings. He -tore a large hole in his knickers and upset a tin of paint, which he -found on a window sill, down his jersey. At last the removers departed -and William proudly surveyed the scene of his labours and destruction. - -“Well,” he said, “I bet things would have been a lot different if I -hadn’t helped.” - -“I’m sure they would,” said Miss Tabitha with perfect truth. - -“Seems about tea time, doesn’t it?” went on William gently. - -Miss Tabitha gave a start and put aside the sal-volatile. - -“Yes; _do_ stay and have some here.” - -“Thanks,” said William simply, “I was thinking you’d most likely ask -me.” - -Over the tea (to which he did full justice in spite of his previous -repast of cold tea and sausage) William waxed very conversational. -He told her of his friends and enemies (chiefly enemies) in the -neighbourhood--of Farmer Jones who made such a fuss over his old -apples, of the Rev. P. Craig who entered into a base conspiracy with -parents to deprive quite well-meaning boys of their Sunday afternoon -freedom. “If Sunday school’s so _nice_ an’ _good for folks_ as they -say it is,” said William bitterly, “why don’t _they_ go? I wun’t mind -_them_ going.” - -He told her of Ginger’s air-gun and his own catapult, of the dead rat -they found in the ditch and the house they had made of branches in the -wood, of the dare-devil career of robber and outlaw he meant to pursue -as soon as he left school. In short, he admitted her unreservedly into -his friendship. - -And while he talked, he consumed large quantities of bread and jam and -butter and cakes and pastry. At last he rose. - -“Well,” he said, “I s’pose I’d better be goin’.” - -Miss Tabitha was bewildered but vaguely cheered by him. - -“You must come again....” she said. - -“Oh, yes,” said William cheerfully. “I’ll come again lots ... an’ let -me know when you’re movin’ again--I’ll come an’ help again.” - -Miss Tabitha shuddered slightly. - -“Thank you _so_ much,” she said. - - * * * * * - -He arrived the next afternoon. - -“I’ve just come to see,” he said, “how you’re gettin’ on.” - -Miss Tabitha was seated at a little table--with a row of playing cards -spread out in front of her. - -She flushed slightly. - -“I’m--I’m just telling my fortune, William,” she said. - -“Oh,” said William. He was impressed. - -“It _does_ sometimes come true,” she said eagerly, “I do it nearly -every day. It’s curious--how it grows on one.” - -She began to turn up the covered cards and study them intently. William -sat on a chair opposite her and watched with interest. - -“There was a letter in my cards yesterday,” she said, “and it came this -morning. Sometimes it comes true like that, but often,” she sighed, “it -doesn’t.” - -“Wot’s in it to-day?” said William, scowling at the cards. - -“A death,” said Miss Tabitha in a sepulchral whisper, “and a letter -from a dark man and jealousy of a fair woman and a present from across -the sea and legal business and a legacy--but they’re none of them the -sort of thing that comes true. I don’t know though,” she went on -dreamily, “the Income Tax man might be dark--I don’t know--and I may -hear from him soon. It’s wonderful really--I mean that any of it should -come out. It’s quite an absorbing pursuit. Shall I do yours?” - -“’Um,” said William graciously. - -“You must wish first.” - -William wished with his eyes screwed up in silent concentration. - -“I’ve done it,” he said. - -Miss Tabitha dealt out the cards. She shook her head sorrowfully. - -“You’ll be treated badly by a fair woman,” she said. - -William agreed gloomily. - -“That’ll be Ethel--my sister,” he said. “She thinks that jus’ ’cause -she’s grown-up....” He relapsed into subterranean mutterings. - -“And you’ll have your wish,” she said. - -William brightened. Then his eye roved round the room to a photograph -on a bureau by the window. - -“Who’s he?” he said. - -Miss Tabitha flushed again. - -“He was once going to marry me,” she said. “And he went away and he -never came back.” - -“’Speck he met someone he liked better an’ married her,” suggested -William cheerfully. - -“I expect he did,” said Miss Tabitha. - -He surveyed her critically. - -“Perhaps he didn’t like your hair not being curly,” he proceeded. “Some -don’t. My brother Robert he says if a girl’s hair doesn’t curl she -oughter curl it. P’raps you didn’t curl it.” - -“No, I didn’t.” - -“My sister Ethel does, but she gets mad if I tell folks, an’ she gets -mad when I use her old things for makin’ holes in apples and cardboard -an’ things. She’s an awful fuss,” he ended contemptuously. - -[Illustration: “YOU’LL BE TREATED BADLY BY A FAIR WOMAN,” SHE SAID. -WILLIAM AGREED GLOOMILY. “THAT’LL BE ETHEL,” HE SAID.] - -When he got home he stood transfixed on the dining-room threshold, his -mouth open, his eyes wide. - -“Crumbs!” he ejaculated. - -He had wished that there might be ginger cake for tea. - -And there was. - -At tea was the Vicar’s wife. The Vicar’s wife was afflicted with -the Sale of Work mania. It is a disease to which Vicars’ wives are -notoriously susceptible. She was always thinking out the next but one -Sale of Work before the next one was over. She was always praised in -the local press and she felt herself to be a very happy woman. - -“I’m going to call the next one a Fête,” she said. “It will seem more -of a change.” - -“Fake?” said William with interest. - -She murmured “Dear boy,” vaguely. - -“We’ll advertise it widely. I’m thinking of calling it the King of -Fêtes. Such an _arresting_ title. We’ll have donkey rides and cocoanut -shies, so _democratic_--and we ought to have fortune-telling. One -doesn’t--h’m--of course, _believe_ in it--but it’s what people expect. -Some quite _harmless_ fortune-telling--by cards, for instance----” - -William gasped. - -“She did mine--_wonderful_,” he said excitedly, “it came--just wot I -wished. There was it for tea!” - -“Who? What?” said the Vicar’s wife. - -“The new one--at the cottage--I did all her furniture for her an’ got -paint on my clothes an’ she told me about him not coming back ’cause of -her hair p’raps an’ I got some of her things broke but not many an’ she -gave me tea an’ said to come again.” - -Gradually they elicited details. - -“I’ll call,” said the Vicar’s wife. “It would be so nice to have -someone one _knows_ to do it--someone _respectable_. Fortune-tellers -are so often not _quite_--you know what I mean, dear,” she cooed to -William’s mother. - -“Of course,” murmured William abstractedly “it mayn’t have been her -hair. It may have been jus’ anything....” - - * * * * * - -William was having a strenuous time. Fate was making one of her -periodic assaults on him. Everything went wrong. Miss Drew, his form -mistress at school, had taken an altogether misguided and unsympathetic -view of his zeal for nature study. In fact, when the beetle which -William happened to be holding lovingly in his hand as he did his sums -by her desk, escaped and made its way down her neck, her piercing -scream boded no good to William. The further discovery of a caterpillar -and two woodlice in his pencil-box, a frog in his satchel, and earwigs -in his pocket, annoyed her still more, and William stayed in school -behind his friends to write out one hundred times, “I must not bring -insects into school.” His addition “because they friten Miss Drew,” -made relations still more strained. He met with no better luck at home. -His unmelodious and penetrating practices on a mouth-organ in the early -hours of the morning had given rise to a coldness that changed to -actual hostility when it was discovered that he had used Ethel’s new -cape as the roof of his wigwam in the garden and Robert’s new expensive -brown shoe polish to transform himself to a Red Indian chief. He was -distinctly unpopular at home. There was some talk of not allowing him -to attend the King of Fêtes, but as the rest of the family were going -and the maids had refused to be left with William on the premises it -was considered safer to allow him to go. - -“But any of your _tricks_----” said his father darkly, leaving the -sentence unfinished. - -The day of the King of Fêtes was fine. The stalls were bedecked in -the usual bright and inharmonious colours. A few donkeys with their -attendants surveyed the scene contemptuously. Ethel was wearing the -new cape (brushed and cleaned to a running accompaniment of abuse of -William), Mrs. Brown was presiding at a stall. Robert, wearing a large -buttonhole, with his shoes well browned (with a new tin of polish -purchased with William’s pocket-money) presided at a miniature rifle -range. William, having been given permission to attend, and money for -his entrance, hung round the gateway glaring at them scornfully. He -always disliked his family intensely upon public occasions. He had not -yet paid his money and was wondering whether it was worth it after all, -and it would not be wiser to spend it on bulls’ eyes and gingerbreads, -and his afternoon in the fields as a solitary outlaw and hunter of -cats or whatever other live prey Fate chose to send him. In a tent at -the farther end of the Fête ground was Miss Tabitha Croft, arrayed in -a long and voluminous garment covered with strange signs. They were -supposed to be mystic Eastern signs, but were in reality the invention -of the Vicar’s wife, suggested by the freehand drawing of her youngest -son, aged three. It completely enveloped Miss Tabitha from head to -foot, leaving only two holes for her eyes and two holes for her arms. -She had shown it to William the day before. - -“I don’t _quite_ like it,” she had confessed. “I hope there’s -nothing--blasphemous about it. But she ought to know--being a Vicar’s -wife she ought to know. I only hope,” she went on, shaking her head, -“that I’m not tampering with the powers of darkness--even for the cause -of the church organ.” - -Outside was a large placard: “Fortune Telling by the Woman of Mystery, -2s. 6d. each.” Inside the Woman of Mystery sat trembling with -nervousness in front of a table on which reposed her little well-worn -pack of cards, each with a neat hieroglyphic in the corner to show -whether it meant a death or a wedding or a legacy or anything else. - -William, surveying this scene from the gateway became aware of a figure -coming slowly down the road. It was a man--a very tall man who stooped -slightly as he walked. As he came to William he became suddenly aware -in his turn of William’s scowling regard. He lifted his hat. - -“Good afternoon,” he said courteously. - -“Afternoon,” said William brusquely. - -“Do you know,” went on the man, “whether a--Miss Croft lives in the -village?” - -He pointed down the hill to the cluster of roofs. - -“I think,” said William slowly, “I’ve seen your photo--only you wasn’t -so old when you had it took.” - -“Where have you seen my photo?” said the man. - -“In her house--wot I helped her to remove to,” said William proudly. - -The man’s kind, rather weak face lit up. - -“Could you show me her house? You see,” he went on simply, “I’m a -very unhappy man. I went away, but I’ve carried her in my heart all -the time, but it’s taken me a long, long time to find her. I’m a very -tired, unhappy man.” - -William looked at him with some scorn. - -“You was soft,” he said. “P’raps it was ’cause of her hair not curlin’?” - -“Where is she?” said the man. - -“In there,” said William pointing to the enclosure sacred to the King -of Fêtes. “I’ll get her if you like.” - -“Thank you,” said the man. - -William, still grudging his entrance money, walked round the enclosure -till he found a weak spot in the hedge behind a tent. Through this he -scrambled with great difficulty, leaving his cap _en route_, blackening -and scratching his face, tearing his knickers in two places, and his -jersey in three. But William, who could not see himself, fingering -tenderly the price of admission in his pocket, felt that it had been -trouble well expended. He met the Vicar’s wife. She was raffling a -tea-cosy highly decorated with red and yellow and purple tulips on a -green ground. She wore her Sale of Work smile. William accosted her. - -“He wants her. He’s come back. Could you get her?” he said. “He’s had -the right one in his inside all the time. He said so....” - -But she had no use for William. William did not look as if he was good -for a one-and-six raffle ticket for a tea-cosy. - -“Sweet thing!” she murmured vaguely, and effusively caressed his -disordered hair as she passed. - -William made his way towards the tent of the Woman of Mystery. But -there was an ice-cream stall on his way and William could not pass it. -Robert and Ethel, glasses of fashion and moulds of form, passed at -the minute. At the sight of William with torn coat and jersey, dirty -scratched face, no cap and tousled hair, consuming ice-cream horns -among a crowd of his social inferiors, a shudder passed through both -of them. They felt that William was a heavy handicap to them in Life’s -race. - -“Send him home,” said Robert. - -“I simply wouldn’t be seen speaking to him,” replied Ethel. - -William, having satisfied his craving for ice-cream with the greater -part of his entrance money, wandered on towards the tent of the Woman -of Mystery. He entered it by crawling under the canvas at the back. -The Woman of Mystery happened to be having a slack time. The tent was -empty. - -[Illustration: AT THE SIGHT OF WILLIAM A SHUDDER PASSED THROUGH BOTH -OF THEM. THEY FELT THAT WILLIAM WAS A HEAVY HANDICAP TO THEM IN LIFE’S -RACE.] - -“He’s come,” announced William. “He’s waiting outside.” - -“Who?” said the Woman of Mystery. - -“The one wot you’ve got a photo of. You know. He’s jus’ by the gate.” - -“Oh, dear!” gasped the Woman of Mystery. “Does he want me?” - -“’Um,” said William. - -“Oh, dear!” fluttered the Woman of Mystery. “I must go--yet how can I -go? People will be coming for their fortunes.” - -William waved aside the objection. - -“Oh, I’ll see to that,” he said. - -“But--can you tell fortunes, dear?” she asked. - -“I dunno,” said William. “I’ve never tried yet.” - -The Woman of Mystery drew off her curious gown. - -“I must go,” she said. - -With that she fled--through the back opening of the tent. - -William slowly and deliberately arrayed himself. He put on the gown and -arranged it so that his eyes came to the two eye-holes and his hands -out of the two arm-holes. Then he lifted the hassock on which the Woman -of Mystery had disposed her feet, on to the chair, and took his seat -upon it, carefully hiding it with the gown. At that moment the flap -of the tent opened and a client entered. She put half a crown on the -table, and sat down on the chair opposite William. - -Peering through his eye-holes William recognised Miss Drew. - -He spread out a row of the playing-cards and began to whisper. -William’s whisper was such a little known quantity that it was not -recognised. - -“You’ve got a bad temper,” he whispered. - -“True!” sighed Miss Drew. - -“You’ve got a cat and hens,” went on William. - -“True.” - -“You’ve been hard on a boy jus’ lately. He--he may not live very long. -You’ve time to make up to him.” - -[Illustration: “YOU’VE BEEN HARD ON A BOY JUS’ LATELY. HE--HE MAY NOT -LIVE VERY LONG. YOU’VE TIME TO MAKE UP TO HIM.”] - -Miss Drew started. - -“That’s all.” - -Miss Drew, looking bewildered and troubled, withdrew from the tent. - -William was surprised on peering through his eye-holes to recognise -Ethel in his next visitor. He spread out the cards and began to whisper -again. - -“You’ve got two brothers,” he whispered. - -Ethel nodded. - -“The small one won’t live long prob’ly. You better be kinder to him -while he lives. Give in to him more. That’s all.” - -Ethel withdrew in an awed silence. - -Robert entered next. William was beginning to enjoy himself. - -“You’ve gotter brother,” he whispered. “Well, he’s not strong an’ he -may die soon. This is a warning for you. You’d better make him happy -while he’s alive. That’s all.” - -Robert went slowly from the tent. At that moment the little Woman of -Mystery fluttered in from the back. - -“Oh, thank you _so_ much, dear. Such a _wonderful_ thing has happened. -But I must return to my post. He’ll wait till the end, he says.” - -Still talking breathlessly, she drew the robe of mystery from William -and put it on herself. - -William wandered out again into the Fête ground. He visited the -ice-cream stall again, then wandered aimlessly around. The first person -to accost him was Miss Drew. - -“Hello, William,” she said, gazing at him anxiously. “I’ve been looking -for you. Would you like some ice-cream?” - -William graciously condescended to be fed with ice-cream. - -“Would you like a box of chocolates?” went on Miss Drew. “Do you feel -all right, William, dear? You’ve been a bit pale lately.” - -William accepted from her a large box of chocolates and three donkey -rides. He admitted that perhaps he hadn’t been feeling very strong -lately. When she departed he found Robert and Ethel looking for him. -They treated him to a large and very satisfying tea and several -more donkey rides. Both used an unusually tender tone of voice when -addressing him. Ethel bought him a pine-apple and another box of -chocolates, and Robert bought him a bottle of sweets and apologised for -his unreasonable behaviour about the shoe polish. When they went home -William walked between them and they carried his chocolates and sweets -and pine-apple for him. Feeling that too much could not be made of the -present state of affairs, he made Robert do his homework before he went -to bed. Up in his room he gave his famous imitation of a churchyard -cough that he had made perfect by practise and which had proved a great -asset to him on many occasions. Ethel crept softly upstairs. She held a -paper bag in her hand. - -“William, darling,” she said, “I’ve brought this toffee for your -throat. It might do it good.” - -William added it to his store of presents. - -“Thank you,” he said with an air of patient suffering. - -“And I’ll give you something to make your wigwam with to-morrow, dear,” -she went on. - -“Thank you,” said William. - -“And if you want to practise your mouth-organ in the mornings it -doesn’t matter a bit.” - -“Thank you,” said William in a small, martyred voice. - - * * * * * - -The next evening William walked happily down the road. It had -been a very pleasant day. Miss Drew had done most of his work for -him at school. He had been treated at lunch by his family with a -consideration that was quite unusual. He had been entreated to have all -that was left of the trifle while the rest of the family had stewed -prunes. - -In the garden of the little cottage was Miss Tabitha Croft and the -tall, stooping man. - -“Oh, this is William,” said Miss Tabitha. “William is a _great_ friend -of mine!” - -“I saw William yesterday,” said the man. “William must certainly come -to the wedding.” - -“William,” said Miss Croft, “it was kind of you to take my place -yesterday. Did you manage all right?” - -“Yes,” said William, after a moment’s consideration, “I managed all -right, thank you.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WILLIAM ALL THE TIME - - -William was walking down the road, his hands in his pockets, his -mind wholly occupied with the Christmas pantomime. He was going to -the Christmas pantomime next week. His thoughts dwelt on rapturous -memories of previous Christmas pantomimes--of _Puss in Boots_, of _Dick -Whittington_, of _Red Riding Hood_. His mouth curved into a blissful -smile as he thought of the funny man--inimitable funny man with his red -nose and enormous girth. How William had roared every time he appeared! -With what joy he had listened to his uproarious songs! But it was -not the funny man to whom William had given his heart. It was to the -animals. It was to the cat in _Puss in Boots_, the robins in _The Babes -in the Wood_, and the wolf in _Red Riding Hood_. He wanted to be an -animal in a pantomime. He was quite willing to relinquish his beloved -future career of pirate in favour of that of animal in a pantomime. He -wondered.... - -It was at this point that Fate, who often had a special eye on William, -performed one of her lightning tricks. - -A man in shirt-sleeves stepped out of the wood and looked anxiously up -and down the road. Then he took out his watch and muttered to himself. -William stood still and stared at him with frank interest. Then the -man began to stare at William, first as if he didn’t see him, and then -as if he saw him. - -“Would you like to be a bear for a bit?” he said. - -William pinched himself. He seemed to be awake. - -“A b-b-bear?” he queried, his eyes almost starting out of his head. - -“Yes,” said the man irritably, “a bear. B.E.A.R. bear. Animal--Zoo. -Never heard of a bear?” - -William pinched himself again. He seemed to be still awake. - -“Yes,” he agreed as though unwilling to commit himself entirely. “I’ve -heard of a bear all right.” - -“Come on, then,” said the man, looking once more at his watch, once -more up the road, once more down the road, then turning on his heel and -walking quickly into the wood. - -William followed, both mouth and eyes wide open. The man did not speak -as he walked down the path. Then suddenly down a bend in the path -they came upon a strange sight. There was a hut in a little clearing, -and round the hut was clustered a group of curious people--a Father -Christmas, holding his beard in one hand and a glass of ale in the -other; a rather fat Goldilocks, in the act of having yellow powder -lavishly applied to her face, several fairies and elves, sucking large -and redolent peppermints; a ferocious, but depressed-looking giant, -rubbing his hands together and complaining of the cold; and several -other strange and incongruous figures. In front of the hut was a large -species of camera with a handle, and behind stood a man smoking a pipe. - -“Kid turned up?” he said. - -William’s guide shook his head. - -“No,” he said, “they’ve missed their train or lost their way, or -evaporated, or got kidnapped or something, but this happened to be -passing, and it looked the same size pretty near. What do you think?” - -[Illustration: SUDDENLY DOWN A BEND IN THE PATH THEY CAME UPON A -STRANGE SIGHT.] - -The man took his pipe from his mouth in order the better to concentrate -his whole attention on William. He looked at William from his muddy -boots to his untidy head. Then he reversed the operation, and looked -from his untidy head to his muddy boots. Then he scratched his head. - -“Seems on the big side for the middle one,” he said. - -At this point a hullabaloo arose from behind the shed, and a small bear -appeared, howling loudly. - -“He tooken my bit of toffee,” yelled the bear in a very human voice. - -“Aw, shut up!” said the man in his shirt-sleeves. - -The small bear was followed by a large bear, protesting loudly. - -“I gave him half’n mine ’n’e promised to give me half’n his’ ’n’ then -he tried to eat it all’n’----” - -“Aw, shut up!” repeated the man. Then he turned to William. - -“All you gotter do,” he said, “is to fix on the middle bear’s suit an’ -do exactly what you’re told, an’ I’ll give you five shillings at the -end. See?” - -“These roural places are a butiful chinge,” murmured Goldilocks’ -mother, darkening her eyebrows as she spoke. “So calm and quart.” - -“These Christmas shows,” grumbled the giant, flapping his arms -vigorously, “are the very devil.” - -Here William found his voice. “Crumbs!” he ejaculated. Then, feeling -the expletive to be altogether inadequate to the occasion, quickly -added: “Gosh!” - -“Take the kid round, someone,” said the shirt-sleeve man wearily, “and -fix on his togs, and let’s get on with the show.” - -Here a Fairy Queen appeared from behind the hut. - -“I don’t see how I’m possibly to go through with this here -performance,” she said in a voice of plaintive suffering. “I had -toothache all last night----” - -“If you think,” said the shirt-sleeve man, “that you can hold up this -blessed show for a twopenny-halfpenny toothache----” - -“If you’re going to be insulting----” said the Fairy Queen in shrill -indignation. - -“Aw, shut up!” said the shirt-sleeve man. - -Here Father Christmas, who had finished his ale, led William into the -hut. A bear’s suit lay on a chair. - -“The kid wot was to wear this not having turned up,” he said by way of -explanation, “and you by all accounts bein’ willin’ to oblige for a -small consideration, we shall have to see what can be done. I suppose,” -he added, “you have no objection?” - -“Me?” said William, whose eyes and mouth had grown more and more -circular every minute. “_Me_--objection? Golly! I should think _not_.” - -The little bear and the big bear surveyed him critically. - -“He’s too _big_,” said the little bear contemptuously. - -“His hair’s too long,” contributed the big bear. - -“His face is too dirty.” - -“His ears is too long.” - -“His nose is too flat.” - -“His head’s too big.” - -“His----” - -William speedily and joyfully put an end to the duet and Father -Christmas wearily disentangled the struggling mass. - -“It may be a bit on the small side,” he conceded as he deposited the -small bear upside down beneath the table, “but we’ll do what we can.” - -Here the shirt-sleeve man appeared at the window. - -“That’s right,” he said kindly. “Take all day about it. Don’t hurry! We -all enjoy hanging about and waiting for you.” - -Father Christmas offered to retire from his post in favour of the -shirt-sleeve man, and the shirt-sleeve man hastily retreated. - -Then came the task of fitting William into the skin. It was not an easy -task. - -“You’re bigger,” said Father Christmas, “than what you look in the -distance. Considerable.” - -William could not stand quite upright in the skin, but by stooping -slightly he could see and speak through the open mouth of the head. In -an ecstasy of joy he pummelled the big bear, the little bear gladly -joined in the fray and a furry ball of three struggling bears rolled -out of the door of the hut. - -The shirt-sleeve man rang a bell. - -“After this somewhat lengthy interlude,” he said. “By the way, may I -inquire the name of our new friend?” - -William proudly shouted his name through the aperture in the bear’s -head. - -“Well, Billiam,” he said jocularly, “do just what I tell you and you’ll -be all right. Now all clear off a minute, please. We’ve only a few -scenes to do here.” - -“Location,” he read from a paper in his hand, “hut in wood. Enter -fairies with Fairy Queen. Dance.” - -“How I am expected to dance,” said the Fairy Queen bitterly, “tortured -by toothache, I can’t think.” - -“You don’t dance with your teeth,” said the shirt-sleeve man -unsympathetically. “Let’s go through it once before we turn on the -machine. You’ve rehearsed it often enough. Now, come on.” - -They danced a dance that made William gape in surprise and admiration, -so dainty and airy was it. - -“Enter Father Christmas,” went on the shirt-sleeve man. - -“What I can’t think,” said Father Christmas, fastening on his beard, -“is what a Father Christmas’s doing in this effect.” - -“Nor a giant,” said the giant sadly. - -“It’s for a Christmas show,” said the shirt-sleeve man. “You’ve gotter -have a Father Christmas in a Christmas show, or else how’d people know -it’s a Christmas show? And you’ve gotter have a giant in a fairy tale -whether there is one in it or not.” - -Father Christmas joined the dance--gave presents to all the fairies, -then retired behind the hut to his private store of refreshment. - -“Enter Goldilocks,” said the shirt-sleeve man. “Now where the dickens -is that kid?” - -Goldilocks, fat, fair and rosy, appeared from behind a tree where she -had been eating bananas. - -She peered down the middle bear’s mouth. - -“It’s a new one,” she said. - -“The other hasn’t turned up,” said the man. “This is Billiam, who is -taking on the middle one for the small consideration of five shillings.” - -“He’s put out his tongue at me,” she screamed in shrill indignation. - -At this the big bear, whose adoration of Goldilocks was very obvious, -closed with William, and Goldilocks’ mother screamed shrilly. - -The giant separated the two bears and Goldilocks came to the hut with -an expression of patient suffering meant to represent intense physical -weariness. She gave a start of joy at the sight of the hut, which -apparently she did not see till she had almost passed it. She entered. -She gave a second start of joy at the sight of three porridge plates. -She tasted the first two and consumed the third. She wandered into the -other room. She gave a third start of joy at the sight of three beds. -She tried them all and went to sleep beautifully and realistically on -the smallest. William was lost in admiration. - -“Come on, bears,” said the man in shirt-sleeves. “Billiam, walk between -them. Don’t jump. _Walk_. In at the door. That’s right. Now, Billiam, -look at your plate, then shake your head at the big bear.” - -Trembling with joy William obeyed. The big bear, in the privacy of -the open mouth, put out his tongue at William with a hostile grimace. -William returned it. - -“Now to the little one,” said the man in shirt-sleeves. But William was -still absorbed in the big one. Enraged by a particularly brilliant feat -in the grimacing line which he felt he could not outshine, he put out a -paw and tripped up the big bear’s chair. The big bear promptly picked -up a porridge plate and broke it on William’s head. The little bear -hurled himself ecstatically into the conflict. Father Christmas wearily -returned to his work of separating them. - -“If you aren’t satisfied with your bonus,” said the shirt-sleeve man to -William, “take it out of me, not the scenery. You’ve just done about -five shillings’ worth of damage already. Now let’s get on.” - -[Illustration: HE MET A BOY WHO FLED FROM HIM WITH YELLS OF TERROR, AND -TO WILLIAM IT SEEMED AS IF HE HAD DRUNK OF ECSTACY’S VERY FOUNT.] - -The rest of the scene went off fairly well, but William was growing -bored. It wasn’t half such fun as he thought it would be. He wasn’t -feeling quite sure of his five shillings after those smashed plates. -The only thing for which he felt a deep and lasting affection, from -which he felt he could never endure to be parted, was his bear-skin. -It was rather small and very hot, but it gave him a thrill of pleasure -unlike anything he had ever known before. He was a bear. He was an -animal in a pantomime. He began to dislike immensely the shirt-sleeve -man, and the hut, and the Fairy Queen, and the giant, and all the -rest of them, but he loved his bear suit. It was while the giant was -having a scene by himself that the brilliant idea came to William. -He was standing behind a tree. No one was looking at him. He moved -very quietly further away. Still no one looked at him. He moved yet -further away and still no one looked at him. In a few seconds he was -leaping and bounding through the wood alone in the world with the -bear-skin. He was a bear. He was a bear in a wood. He ran. He jumped. -He turned head over heels. He climbed a tree. He ran after a rabbit. He -was riotously, blissfully happy. He met a boy who fled from him with -echoing yells of terror, and to William it seemed as if he had drunk -of ecstasy’s very fount. He ran on and on, roaring occasionally, and -occasionally rolling in the leaves. Then something happened. He gave -a particularly violent jump and strained the skin which was already -somewhat tight. The skin did not burst, but the head came down very far -on to William’s head and wedged itself tightly. He could not see out -of its open mouth now. He could just see out of one of the eye-holes, -but only just. His mouth was wedged tightly in the head and he found he -could not speak plainly. He put up his paws and pulled at the head to -loosen it, but with no results. It was very tightly wedged. William’s -spirits drooped. It was all very well being a bear in a wood as long -as one could change oneself to a boy at will. It was a very different -thing being fastened to a bear-skin for life. He supposed that in time, -if he went on growing to a man, he’d burst the bear-skin. On the other -hand, he couldn’t get to his mouth now, so he couldn’t eat, and he’d -not be able to grow at all. Starvation stared him in the face. He was -hungry already. He decided to return home and throw himself on the -mercy of his family. Then he remembered that his family were all out -that afternoon. His mother was at a mother’s meeting at the Vicarage. -He decided to go straight to the Vicarage. Perhaps the united efforts -of the mothers of the village might succeed in getting his head off. -He went out from the woods on to the road but was discouraged by the -behaviour of a woman who was passing. She gave an unearthly yell, -tore a leg of mutton from her basket, flung it at William’s head, -and ran for dear life down the road, screaming as she went. William, -much depressed, returned to the woods and reached the Vicarage by a -circuitous route. Feeling too shy to ring the bell and interview a -housemaid in his present costume, he walked round the house to the -French windows of the dining-room where the meeting was taking place. -He stood pathetically in the doorway of the window. - -“Mother,” he began plaintively in a muffled and almost inaudible voice, -but it would have made little difference had he spoken in his usual -strident tones. The united scream of the mothers’ meeting would have -drowned it. Never in the whole course of his life had William seen a -room empty so quickly. It was like magic. Almost before his plaintive -and muffled “Mother” had left his lips, the room was empty. Only two -dozen overturned chairs, an overturned table, and several broken -ornaments marked the line of retreat. The room was empty. - -The entire mothers’ meeting, headed by the vicar’s wife and the -vicarage cook and housemaid, were dashing down the main road of the -village, screaming as they went. William sadly surveyed the desolate -scene before him and retreated again to the woods. He leant against a -tree and considered the whole situation. - -“Hello, Billiam!” - -Turning his head to a curious angle and peering out of one of the -bear’s eye-holes, he recognised Goldilocks. - -“Hello!” he returned in a spiritless voice. - -“Why did you run away?” she said. - -“Dunno,” he said. “I wanted the old skin. Wish I’d never seed it.” - -“You do talk funny,” she said. “I can’t hear what you say.” - -And so far was William’s spirit broken that he only sighed. - -[Illustration: NEVER IN THE WHOLE COURSE OF HIS LIFE HAD WILLIAM SEEN A -ROOM EMPTY SO QUICKLY.] - -“I saw you going,” she went on, “and I went after you, but you ran so -fast that I lost you. Then I went round a bit by myself. I say, they -won’t be able to get on with the old thing without us. I heard them -shouting for us. Isn’t it fun? An’ I heard some people screaming in the -road. What was that?” - -William sighed again. Then he shouted: “Try’n pull my head loose. -_Hard._” - -She complied. She pulled till William yelled again. - -“You’ve nearly took my ears off,” he said angrily in his muffled, -sepulchral voice. - -But the head was wedged on as tightly as ever. - -She went to the edge of the wood and peered across the road. - -“There’s a place there,” she said, “with lots of men in. Go’n’ ask -them.” - -William somewhat reluctantly (for his previous experiences had sadly -disillusioned him with human nature in general) went through the trees -to the roadside. - -He looked back at the white-clad form of Goldilocks. - -“Wait for me,” he whispered hoarsely. - -Anxious to attract as little notice as possible, he crept on all fours -round to the door of the public-house. He poked in his head nervously. - -“Please, can some’n----” he began politely, but in the clatter that -arose the ghostly whisper was lost. Several glasses and a chair were -flung at his head. Amid shoutings and uproar the innkeeper went for -his gun, but on his return William had departed, and the innkeeper, -who knew the better part of valour, contented himself with bolting the -door and fetching sal-volatile for his wife. After a decent interval he -unlocked the door and the inmates crept cautiously home one by one. - -“A great, furious brute,” they were heard to say. “Must have escaped -from a circus----” - -“If we hadn’t been quick----” - -“We ought to get up a party with guns----” - -“Let’s go and warn the school, or it’ll get the kids----” - -On reaching their homes most of them found their wives in hysterics on -the kitchen floor after a hasty return from the mothers’ meeting. - -Meanwhile William sat beneath a tree in the wood in an attitude of -utter despondency, his head on his paws. - -“Why didn’t you _tell_ them,” said Goldilocks impatiently. - -“I tell everyone,” said William. “Nobody’ll _listen_ to me. They make a -noise and throw things. I’m go’n’ home.” - -He rose and held out a paw. He felt utterly and miserably cut off from -his fellow-men. He clung pathetically to Goldilock’s presence. - -“Come with me,” he said. - -Hand in hand, a curious couple, they went through the woods to the back -of William’s house. “If I die,” he said at once, “afore we get home, -you’d better bury me. There’s a spade in the back garden.” - -He took her round to the shed in his back garden. - -“You stay here,” he whispered. “An’ I’ll try and get my head took off -an’ then get us somethin’ to eat.” - -Cautiously and apprehensively he crept into the house. He could hear -his mother talking to the cook in the kitchen. - -“It stood right in the window,” she was saying in a trembling voice. -“Not a very big animal but so ferocious-looking. We got out just in -time--it was just getting ready to spring. It----” - -William crept to the open kitchen door and assumed his most plaintive -expression, forgetting for the moment that his expression could not be -seen. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak cook turned round and -saw him. The scream that cook emitted sent William scampering up to his -room in utter terror. - -“It’s gone up--plungin’ into Master William’s room--the _brute!_ Thank -evving the little darlin’s out playin’. Oh, mum, the cunnin’ brute’s -a-shut the door. Oh, my! It turned me inside out--it did. Oh, I darsn’t -go an’ lock it in, but that’s what ought to be done----” - -“We--we’ll get someone with a gun,” said Mrs. Brown weakly. “We--oh, -here’s the master.” - -Mr. Brown entered as she spoke. “I’ve got terrible news for you,” he -said. - -Mrs. Brown burst into tears. - -“Oh, John, nothing could be worse than--than--John, it’s upstairs. -Do get a gun--in William’s room. And--oh, my goodness, suppose he’s -there--suppose it’s mangling him--_do_ go----” - -Mr. Brown sat calmly in his chair. - -“William,” he said, “has eloped with a _jeune première_ and a -bear-skin. An entire Christmas pantomime is searching the village for -him. They’ve spent the afternoon searching the wood and now they are -searching the village. Father Christmas is drinking ale in a pub. He -discovered that William had paid it a visit. A Fairy Queen is sitting -outside the pub complaining of toothache, and Goldilocks’ mother is -complimenting the vicar on the rural beauty of his village, in the -intervals of weeping over the loss of her daughter. I gathered that -William had visited the vicarage. There’s a giant complaining of the -cold, and a man in his shirt-sleeves whose language is turning the -air blue for miles around. I was coming up from the station and was -introduced to them as William’s father. I had some difficulty in -calming them, but I promised to do what I could to find the missing -pair. I’m rather keen on finding William. I don’t think I can do better -than hand him over to them for a few minutes. As for the missing -damsel----” - -Mrs. Brown found her voice. - -“Do you mean----?” she gasped feebly, “do you mean that it was William -all the time?” - -Mr. Brown rose wearily. - -“Of course,” he said. “Isn’t everything _always_ William all the time?” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AUNT JANE’S TREAT - - -William was blest with many relations, though “blest” is not quite the -word he would have used himself. They seemed to appear and disappear -and reappear in spasmodic succession throughout the year. He never -could keep count of them. Most of them he despised, some he actually -disliked. The latter class reciprocated his feelings fervently. -Great-Aunt Jane was one he had never seen, and so he suspended judgment -on her. But he rather liked the sound of her name. He received the news -that she was coming to stay over Christmas with indifference. - -“All right,” he said, “I don’t care. She can come if she wants to.” - -She came. - -She was tall and angular and precise. She received William’s scowling -greeting with a smile. - -“Best wishes of the festive season, William,” she murmured. - -William looked at her scornfully. - -“All right,” he murmured. - -However, his opinion of her rose the next morning. - -“I’d like to give you some treat, William dear,” she said at breakfast, -“to mark the festive season--something quiet and orderly--as I don’t -approve of merry-making.” - -William looked at her kind, weak face, with the spectacles and -scraped-back hair, and sighed. He thought that Aunt Jane would be -enough to dispel the hilarity of any treat. Great-Aunt Jane’s father -had been a Plymouth Brother, and Great-Aunt Jane had been brought up to -disbelieve in pleasure except as a potent aid of the devil. - -William asked for a day in which to choose the treat. He discussed it -with his friends. - -“Well,” advised Ginger, “you jolly well oughter choose something she -can’t muck up like when my aunt took me to a messy ole museum and -showed me stones and things--no animals nor nuffin’.” - -“What about the Zoo?” said Henry. - -The Zoo was suggested to Great-Aunt Jane, but she shuddered slightly. -“I don’t think I _could_,” she said. “It’s so _dangerous_, I always -feel. Those bars look so fragile. I should never forgive myself if -little William were mangled by wild beasts when in my care.” - -William sighed and called his friends together again. - -“She won’t go to the Zoo,” said William. “Somethin’ or other about bars -an’ mangles.” - -“Well, what about Maskelyne’s and Devant’s?” said Henry. “My uncle took -me once. It’s all magic.” - -William, much cheered at the prospect, suggested Maskelyne’s that -evening. Aunt Jane thought it over for some time, then shook her head. - -“No, dear,” she said. “I feel that these illusions aren’t quite -honest. They pretend to do something they really couldn’t do, and it -practically amounts to falsehood. They deceive the eye, and all deceit -is wrong.” - -William groaned and returned to his advisory council. - -“She’s awful,” he said gloomily. “She’s cracky, I think.” - -They discussed the matter again. Douglas had seen a notice of a fair as -he came along. - -“Try that,” he said. “There’s merry-go-rounds an’ shows an’ -cocoanut-shies an’ all sorts. It oughter be all right.” - -That evening William suggested a fair. Aunt Jane looked frightened. -“What exactly _happens_ in a fair?” she said earnestly. - -William had learnt tact. - -“Oh,” he said, “you just walk round and look at things.” - -“What _sort_ of things do you look at?” said Aunt Jane. - -“Oh, just stalls of gingerbreads an’ lemonade.” - -It sounded harmless. Aunt Jane’s face cleared. - -“Very well,” she said. “Of course, I could stand outside while you -walked round....” - -But upon investigation it appeared that William’s parents had not that -perfect trust in William that William seemed to think was his due, and -objected strongly to William’s walking round by himself. So Aunt Jane -steeled herself to dally openly with the evil power of Pleasure-making. - -“We can be quite quick,” she said, “and it doesn’t sound very bad.” - -William reported progress to his council. - -“It’s all right,” he said cheerfully. “The ole luny’s going to the -fair.” - -Then his cheerfulness departed. - -“Though, when you come to think of it,” he said, “it jolly well won’t -be much fun for _me_.” - -“Well,” said Ginger, “s’pose we all try to go there the same time. We -can leave your ole Aunt Jane somewhere an’ go off, can’t we?” - -William brightened. - -“That sounds better,” he said. “I guess she’ll be quite easy to leave.” - - * * * * * - -Aunt Jane was so nervous that she did not sleep at all on the night -before the day arranged for the treat. Never before in her blameless -life had Aunt Jane deliberately entered a place of entertainment. - -“I do hope,” she murmured on the threshold, holding William firmly by -the hand, “that there’s nothing really _wrong_ in it.” - -She was dressed in a long and voluminous black skirt, a long and -voluminous black coat, and a small black hat, adorned with black ears -of wheat, perched upon her prim little head. - -Inside she stopped, bewildered. The glaring lights, the noise, the -shouting, seemed to be drawing Aunt Jane’s eyes out of her sockets and -through her large, round spectacles. - -“It isn’t a bit what I thought, William,” she said. “I imagined just -stalls--just quiet, plain stalls. Why are they throwing balls about, -William?” - -“It’s a cocoanut-shy,” said William. - -“Can--can anyone do it?” said Aunt Jane. - -“Anyone can try,” said William, “if they pay twopence.” - -“And what happens if they knock it off?” - -“They get the cocoanut,” explained William loftily. - -“I--I wonder if it’s very difficult,” mused Aunt Jane. - -At this moment a well-aimed ball sent a cocoanut rolling in the -sawdust. Aunt Jane gave a little scream. - -“Oh, he _did_ it! He _did_ it!” she cried. “I--I’d love to try. -There--there can’t be anything _wrong_ in it.” - -[Illustration: AT THE FIRST THROW AUNT JANE SHOOK HER HAT CROOKED.... -THE BYSTANDERS CHEERED HER LOUDLY.] - -With trembling fingers she handed the man twopence and took the three -wooden balls. A sudden hush of astonishment fell on the crowd when -Aunt Jane’s curious figure came to the fore. At the first throw she -shook her hat crooked, at the second she shook a tail of hair down, -at the third she shook off her spectacles. The third ball went wider -of the mark than all the others, and hit a young man on the shoulder. -Seeing Aunt Jane, however, he only smiled. She demanded another -two-pennyworth. The bystanders cheered her loudly. The crowd round the -cocoanut-shy stall grew. People from afar thought it was an accident, -and crowded up to watch. Then they saw Aunt Jane and stayed. - -At last, after her sixth shot, Aunt Jane, flushed and panting and -dishevelled, turned to William. - -“It’s much more difficult than it looks, William,” she said -regretfully, as she straightened her hat and hair. “I would have liked -to have knocked one off.” - -“What about me?” said William coldly. - -“Oh, yes,” she said. “You must try, too.” So she paid another twopence, -and William tried, too. But the crowd began to melt away at once, and -even the proprietor began to look bored. William realised that he was -an anticlimax and felt dispirited. - -“You should use more _force_, I think, William,” said Aunt Jane, “and -more directness of aim.” - -William growled. - -“Well, you didn’t do it,” he said aggressively. - -“No,” said Aunt Jane, “but I think with practice----” - -Here William was cheered by the sight of Henry and Douglas and Ginger, -who had all managed to evade lawful authority, and come to the help -of William. They had decided to hide from Aunt Jane and then abscond -with William. But Aunt Jane hardly saw them. She hurried on ahead, her -cheeks flushed, her eyes alight, and her prim little hat awry. - -“It has,” she said, “a decidedly _inspiriting_ effect, the light and -music and crowds--decidedly inspiriting.” - -She halted before a roundabout. - -“I wonder if it’s enjoyable,” she said musingly. “The circular motion, -of course, might be monotonous.” - -However, she decided to try it. She paid for William and Douglas, and -Henry, and Ginger, and herself, and mounted a giant cock. It began. She -clung on for dear life. It went faster and faster. There came a gleam -into her eyes, a smile of rapture to her lips. Again the crowd gathered -to watch her. She looked at the people as the roundabout slowed down. - -“How _happy_ they all look,” she said innocently. “It’s--it’s quite a -pleasant motion, isn’t it? It seems a pity to get off.” - -She stayed on, clinging convulsively to the pole, with one -elastic-sided boot waving wildly. She stayed on yet again. She seemed -to find the circular motion anything but monotonous. It seemed to give -her a joy that all her blameless life had so far failed to produce. - -William and Ginger had to climb down, pale and rather unsteady. Henry -and Douglas followed their example the next time it stopped. But still -Aunt Jane stayed on, smiling blissfully, her hat dangling over one ear. -And still the crowd at the roundabout grew. The rest of the fair ground -was comparatively empty. All the fun of the fair was centred on Aunt -Jane. - -At last she descended from her mount and joined the rather -depressed-looking group of boys who were her escort. - -“It’s curious,” she said, “how much pleasanter is a circular motion -than a straight one. This is much more exhilarating than, say, a train -journey. And, of course, the music adds to the pleasantness.” - -“Well,” said William, “you jolly well stayed on.” - -“It seemed,” she said, “such a pity to get off.” - -[Illustration: CLINGING CONVULSIVELY TO THE POLE WITH ONE ELASTIC-SIDED -BOOT WAVING WILDLY.] - -The little party moved from the roundabout followed by most of the -crowd. The crowd liked Aunt Jane. They wouldn’t have lost sight of her -for anything. Aunt Jane, for the first time in her life, appealed to -the British Public. William and his friends felt themselves to be in -a curious position. They had meant to leave Aunt Jane to her fate and -go off to their own devices. But it did not seem possible to leave -Aunt Jane, because everything seemed to centre round Aunt Jane, and -they would only have been at the back of the crowd instead of at the -front. But they felt that their position as escort of Aunt Jane was not -a dignified one. Moreover, their feats drew forth none of the applause -which Aunt Jane’s feats drew forth. They felt neglected by the world in -general. - -Aunt Jane was next attracted by the poster of the Fat Woman outside one -of the tents. She fixed her spectacles sternly, and approached the man -who was crying the charms of the damsel. - -“Surely that picture is a gross exaggeration, my good man?” she said. - -“Hexaggeration?” he repeated. “It isn’t ’arf the truth. That’s wot it -isn’t. It isn’t ’arf the truth. We--we couldn’t get ’er on the picture -if we made ’er as big as wot she is. Hexaggeration? Why--she’s a -walkin’ mountain, that’s wot she is. A reg’lar walkin’ mountain. Come -in and see ’er. Come in and judge for yerselves. Jus’ come in and see -if wot I’m tellin’ yer isn’t gospel.” - -Somehow or other they were swept in. Aunt Jane sat on the front seat. -She gazed intently upon the Fat Woman, who sat at her ease upon a small -platform. - -“She seems,” said Aunt Jane, “unnaturally large, certainly.” - -The showman discoursed upon the size of the Fat Woman, and then invited -the audience to draw near. - -“Touch ’er if yer want,” he said. “Touch ’er and see she’s reel. No -decepshun.” - -Aunt Jane drew near with the rest and accosted the showman. - -“Has she ever tried any of those fat-reducing foods?” she said. - -The man looked at William. - -“Is she batty?” he said simply. - -“If you’ll give me her address I’ll talk to my doctor about her. I -think something might be done to make her less abnormal.” - -At this the walking mountain rose threateningly from her gilded couch. - -“’Ere,” she said, “’oo yer a-callin’ nimes of? You tell me that. ’Oo -yer a-givin’ of yer sauce to? You talk ter me strite art if yer wants -to an’ I’ll talk ter yer back--not ’arf. Don’t go a ’urlin’ of yer -hinsults at me through _’im_. My young man--’e’ll talk ter yer, nah, if -yer wants.” - -“’Er young man, he’s the Strong Man in the next tent,” explained the -man. “They’re fiancies, they are. An’ ’e’s the divil an’ all to tackle, -’e is. I’d advise yer, as friend to friend, to clear, afore she calls -of ’im.” - -But Aunt Jane, the imitation wheat in her hat trembling with emotion, -was already “clearing.” - -“They quite misunderstood,” she said, as soon as she had “cleared.” -“The word ‘abnormal’ conveys no insult, surely. I think I’ll return and -explain. I’ll refer them to the dictionary and the derivation of the -word. It simply means something outside the usual rule. If----” - -She was returning eagerly to the tent to explain, but found the -entrance blocked by a crowd, so she was persuaded to postpone her -explanation. Moreover, she had caught sight of the Hoop-la, and was -anxious to have the system explained to her. William wearily explained -it. - -“Oh, I see,” said Aunt Jane, “a test of dexterity and accuracy of aim. -Shall we--shall we try?” - -They tried. They tried till William was tired. She had determined to -“get something” or die. The crowd was gathering again. They applauded -her efforts. Aunt Jane was too short-sighted to notice the crowd, but -she heard its shouts. - -“Isn’t everyone _encouraging?_” she murmured to William. “It’s most -gratifying. It’s really a very pleasant place.” - -She actually did get something. One of her wildly-flung hoops fell over -a tie-pin of the extremely flashy variety, which she received with -glowing pride and handed to William. The crowd cheered, but Aunt Jane -was quite oblivious of the crowd. - -“Come along,” she said. “Let’s do something else.” - -Ginger disconsolately announced his intention of going home. Henry and -Douglas followed his example, and William was left alone to escort Aunt -Jane through the mazes of the Land of Pleasure. It was at this point -that things really seemed to go to Aunt Jane’s head. She went down the -Helter Skelter four or five times--sailing down on her little mat with -squeaks of joy. She forgot now to straighten her hat or her hair. Her -eye gleamed with a strange light, her cheeks were flushed. - -“There’s something quite rejuvenating about it all, William,” she -murmured. She had her fortune told by a Gipsy Queen, who prophesied an -early marriage with one of her many suitors. - -She went again on the Roundabout, she had another cocoanut-shy, she -went on the Switchback, the Fairy Boat, and the Wild Sea Waves. William -trailed along behind her. He refused to venture on the Wild Sea Waves, -and watched her on them with a certain grudging admiration. - -“Crumbs!” he murmured, “she must have gotter inside of _iron!_” - -[Illustration: WILLIAM WAS LEFT ALONE TO ESCORT AUNT JANE THROUGH THE -MAZES OF THE LAND OF PLEASURE.] - -Finally Aunt Jane espied a stall at a distance. Under a flaring -gas-flame a man in a white coat was pulling out long strings of soft -candy. Aunt Jane approached. - -“What an appetising odour!” commented Aunt Jane. “Do you think he’s -_selling_ it?” William thought he was. - -And the glorious climax of that strange night was the sight of Aunt -Jane standing under the flaring gas-jet devouring soft pull-out candy. - -“’Ullo! ’Ere’s the gime old bird,” said a man passing. - -“I don’t see any bird, do you?” said Aunt Jane to William, peering -round with her short-sighted eyes, “but this is a very palatable -confection, is it not?” - -Then a clock struck, and into Aunt Jane’s face came the look that -Cinderella’s face must have worn when the clock struck twelve. - -“William,” she said, “that surely was not ten?” - -“_Sounded_ like ten,” said William. - -Aunt Jane put down her last stick of pull-out candy unfinished. - -“We--we ought to go,” she said weakly. - - * * * * * - -“Well,” said William’s mother when they returned. “I do hope it wasn’t -too tiring for you.” - -Aunt Jane sat down on a chair and thought. She thought over the -evening. No, she couldn’t really have done all that--have seen all -that. It was impossible--quite impossible. It must be imagination. She -must have seen someone else doing all those things. She must have gone -quietly round with William and watched him enjoy himself. Of course -that was all she’d done. It must have been. The other was unthinkable. - -So she smiled, a patient, weary little smile. - -“Well, of course,” she said, “I’m a little tired but I think William -enjoyed it.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -“KIDNAPPERS” - - -There was quite a flutter in the village when the d’Arceys came to -the Grange. A branch of _the_ d’Arcey family, you know. Lord d’Arcey -and Lady d’Arcey and Lady Barbara d’Arcey. Lady Barbara was seven -years of age. She was fair, frilly, fascinating. Lady d’Arcey engaged -a dancing-master to come down from London once a week to teach her -dancing. They invited several of the children of the village to join. -They invited William. His mother was delighted, but William--freckled, -untidy, and seldom clean--was horrified to the depth of his soul. No -entreaties or threats could move him. He said he didn’t care what they -did to him; he said they could kill him if they liked. He said he’d -rather be killed than go to an ole dancing class anyway, with that -soft-looking kid. Well, he didn’t care who her father was. She _was_ -a soft-looking kid, and he _wasn’t_ going to _no_ dancing class with -her. Wildly ignoring the rules that govern the uses of the negative, he -frequently reiterated that he _wasn’t_ going to _no_ dancing class with -her. He wouldn’t be seen speaking to her, much less dancing with her. - -His mother almost wept. - -“You see,” she explained to Ethel, William’s grown-up sister, “it puts -us at a sort of disadvantage. And Lady d’Arcey is so _nice_, and it’s -so _kind_ of them to ask William!” - -William’s sister, however, took a wholly different view of the matter. - -“It might put them,” she said, “a good deal more against us if William -_went!_” - -William’s mother admitted that there was something in that. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: WILLIAM LAY IN THE LOFT--HIS CHIN RESTING ON HIS HANDS, -READING.] - -William lay in the loft, reclining at length on his front, his chin -resting on his hands. He was engaged in reading. On one side of him -stood a bottle of liquorice water, which he had made himself; on the -other was a large slab of cake, which he had stolen from the larder. On -his freckled face was the look of scowling ferocity that it always wore -in any mental effort. The fact that his jaws had ceased to work, though -the cake was yet unfinished, testified to the enthralling interest of -the story he was reading. - -“Black-hearted Dick dragged the fair maid by the wrist to the captain’s -cave. A bottle of grog stood at the captain’s right hand. The captain -slipped a mask over his eyes, and smiled a sinister smile. He twirled -his long black moustachios with one hand. - -“‘Unhand the maiden, dog,’ he said. - -“Then he swept her a stately bow. - -“‘Fair maid,’ he said, ‘unless thy father bring me sixty thousand -crowns to-night, thy doom is sealed. Thou shalt swing from yon lone -pine-tree!’ - -“The maiden gave a piercing scream. Then she looked closely at the -masked face. - -“‘Who--who art thou?’ she faltered. - -“Again the captain’s sinister smile flickered beneath the mask. - -“‘Rudolph of the Red Hand,’ he said. - -“At these terrible words the maiden swooned into the arms of -Black-hearted Dick. - -“‘A-ha,’ said the grim Rudolph, with a sneer. ‘No man lives who does -not tremble at those words.’ - -“And again that smile curved his dread lips, as he looked at the yet -unconscious maiden. - -“For well he knew that the sixty thousand crowns would be his that even. - -“‘Let her be treated with all courtesy--till to-night,’ he said as he -turned away.” - -William heaved a deep sigh and took a long draught of liquorice water. - -It seemed an easy and wholly delightful way of earning money. - - * * * * * - -“They’re awfully nice people,” said Ethel the next day at breakfast, -“and it is so kind of them to ask us to tea.” - -“Very,” said Mrs. Brown, “and they say, ‘Bring the little boy’.” - -The little boy looked up, with the sinister smile he had been -practising. - -“Me?” he said. “Ha!” - -He wished he had a mask, because, though he felt he could manage the -smile quite well, the narrative had said nothing about the expression -of the upper part of Rudolph of the Red Hand’s face. However, he felt -that his customary scowl would do quite well. - -“You’ll come, dear, won’t you?” said Mrs. Brown sweetly. - -“I wouldn’t make him,” said Ethel nervously. “You know what he’s like -sometimes.” - -Mrs. Brown knew. William--a mute, scowling protest--was no ornament to -a drawing-room. - -“But wouldn’t you like to meet the little girl?” said Mrs. Brown -persuasively. - -“Huh!” ejaculated William. - -The monosyllable looks weak and meaningless in print. As William -pronounced it, it was pregnant with scorn and derision and sinister -meaning. He curled imaginary moustachios as he uttered it. He looked -round upon his assembled family. Then he uttered the monosyllable again -with a yet more sinister smile and scowl. He wondered if Rudolph of the -Red Hand had a mother who tried to make him go out to tea. He decided -that he probably hadn’t. Life would be much simpler if you hadn’t. - -With another short, sharp “Ha!” he left the room. - - * * * * * - -William sat on an old packing-case in a disused barn. - -Before him stood Ginger, who shared the same classroom in school and -pursued much the same occupations and recreations out of school. They -were not a popular couple in the neighbourhood. - -William was wearing a mask. The story had not stated what sort of a -mask Rudolph of the Red Hand had worn, but William supposed it was -an ordinary sort of mask. He had one that he’d bought last Fifth of -November, and it seemed a pity to waste it. Moreover, it had the -advantage of having moustachios attached. It covered his nose and -cheeks, leaving holes for his eyes. It represented fat, red, smiling -cheeks, an enormous red nose, and fluffy grey whiskers. William, on -looking at himself in the glass, had felt a slight misgiving. It had -been appropriate to the festive season of November 5th, but he wondered -whether it was sufficiently sinister to represent Rudolph of the -Red Hand. However, it was a mask, and he could turn his lips into a -sinister smile under it, and that was the main thing. He had definitely -and finally embraced a career of crime. On the table before him stood a -bottle of liquorice water with an irregularly printed label: GROG. He -looked round at his brave. - -“Black-hearted Dick,” he said, “you gotter say, ‘Present.’” - -He was rather vague as to how outlaws opened their meetings, but this -seemed the obvious way. - -“Present,” said Ginger, “an’ it’s not much fun if it’s all goin’ to be -like school.” - -“Well, it’s _not_,” said William firmly, “an’ you can have a drink of -grog--only one swallow,” he added anxiously, as he saw Black-hearted -Dick throwing his head well back preparatory to the draught. - -“That was a jolly big one,” he said, torn between admiration at the -feat and annoyance at the disappearance of his liquorice water. - -“All right,” said Ginger modestly. “I’ve gotter big throat. Well, what -we goin’ to do first?” - -[Illustration: “BLACK-HEARTED DICK,” HE SAID, “YOU’VE GOTTER SAY -‘PRESENT.’”] - -William adjusted his mask, which was not a very good fit, and performed -the sinister smile. - -“We gotter kidnap someone first,” he said. - -“Well, who?” said Ginger. - -“Someone who can pay us money for ’em.” - -“Well, who?” said Ginger irritably. - -William took a deep draught of liquorice water. - -“Well, you can think of someone.” - -“I like that,” said Ginger, in tones of deep dissatisfaction. “I _like_ -that. You set up to be captain and wear that thing, and drink up all -the liquorice water----” - -“Grog,” William corrected him, wearily. - -“Well, grog, an’ then you don’t know who we’ve gotter kidnap. I like -that. Might as well be rat hunting or catching tadpoles or chasin’ -cats, if you don’t know what we’ve gotter do.” - -William snorted and smiled sneeringly beneath his bilious-looking mask. - -“Huh!” he said. “You come with me and I’ll find someone for you to -kidnap right enough.” - -Ginger cheered up at this news, and William took another draught of -liquorice water. Then he hung up his mask behind the barn door and took -out of his pocket a battered penknife. - -“We may want arms,” he said; “keep your dagger handy.” - -He pulled his school cap low down over his eyes. Ginger did the same, -then looked at the one broken blade of his penknife. - -“I don’t think mine would _kill_ anyone,” he said. “Does it matter?” - -“You’ll have to knock yours on the head with something,” said Rudolph -of the Red Hand grimly. “You know we may be imprisoned, or hung, or -somethin’, for this.” - -“Rather!” said Ginger, with the true spirit of the bravado, “an’ I -don’t care.” - -They tramped across the fields in silence, William leading. In spite -of his occasional exasperation, Ginger had infinite trust in William’s -capacity for attracting adventure. - -They walked down the road and across a stile. The stile led to a field -that bordered the Grange. Suddenly they stopped. A small white figure -was crawling through a gap in the hedge from the park into the field. -William had come out with no definite aim, but he began to think that -Fortune had placed in his way a tempting prize. He turned round to his -follower with a resonant “’Sh!”, scowled at him, placed his finger on -his lips, twirled imaginary moustachios, and pulled his cap low over -his eyes. Through the trees inside the park he could just see the -figure of a nurse on a seat leaning against a tree trunk in an attitude -of repose. Suddenly Lady Barbara looked up and espied William’s -fiercely scowling face. - -She put out her tongue. - -William’s scowl deepened. - -She glanced towards her nurse on the other side of the hedge. Her nurse -still slumbered. Then she accosted William. - -“Hello, funny boy!” she whispered. Rudolph of the Red Hand froze her -with a glance. - -“Quick!” he said. “Seize the maiden and run!” - -With a dramatic gesture he seized the maiden by one hand, and Ginger -seized the other. The maiden was not hard to seize. She ran along with -little squeals of joy. - -“Oh, what fun! What fun!” she said. - -Inside the barn, William closed the door and sat at his packing-case. -He took a deep draught of liquorice water and then put on his mask. His -victim gave a wild scream of delight and clapped her hands. - -“Oh, _funny_ boy!” she said. - -William was annoyed. - -“It’s not funny,” he said irritably. “It’s jolly well not funny. You’re -kidnapped. That’s what you are. Unhand the maiden, dog,” he said to -Ginger. - -Ginger was looking rather sulky. “All right, I’m not handing her,” he -said, “an’ when you’ve quite finished with the liquorice water----” - -“Grog,” corrected William, sternly. - -“Well, grog, then, an’ I helped to make it, p’raps you’ll let me have -a drink.” - -William handed him the bottle, with a flourish. - -“Finish it, dog,” he said, with a short, scornful laugh. - -The vibration of the short, scornful laugh caused his bacchic mask -(never very secure) to fall off on to the packing-case. Lady Barbara -gave another scream of ecstasy. - -“Oh, do it _again_, boy,” she said. - -William glanced at her coldly, and put on the mask again. Then he swept -her a stately bow, holding on to his mask with one hand. - -“Fair maid,” he said, “unless thy father bring me sixty thousand crowns -by to-night, thy doom is sealed. Thou shalt swing from yon lone pine.” - -He pointed dramatically out of the window to a diminutive hawthorn -hedge. - -The captive whirled round on one foot, fair curls flying. - -[Illustration: “FAIR MAID,” HE SAID, “UNLESS THY FATHER BRING ME SIXTY -THOUSAND CROWNS, THOU SHALT SWING FROM YON LONE PINE.”] - -“Oh, he’s going to make me a swing! _Nice_ boy!” - -William rose, majestic and stately, still cautiously holding his mask. -“My name,” he said, “is Rudolph of the Red Hand.” - -“Well, I’ll _kiss_ you, dear Rudolph Hand,” she said, “if you like.” - -William’s look intimated that he did not like. - -“Oh, you’re _shy!_” said Lady Barbara, delightedly. - -“Let her be treated,” William said, “with all courtesy till this even.” - -“Well,” said Ginger, “_that’s_ all right, but what we goin’ to do with -her?” - -William glanced disapprovingly at the maiden, who had turned the -packing-case upside down and was sitting in it. - -“Well, what we goin’ to _do?_” said Ginger. “It’s not much fun so far.” - -“Well, we just gotter wait till her people send the money.” - -“Well, how they goin’ to know we got her, and where she is, an’ how -much we want?” - -William considered. This aspect of the matter had not struck him. - -“Well,” he said at last. “I s’pose you’d better go an’ tell them.” - -“You can,” said Ginger. - -“You’d better go,” said William, “’cause I’m chief.” - -“Well, if you’re chief,” said Ginger, “you oughter go.” - -The kidnapped one emitted a shrill scream. - -“I’m a train,” she said. “Sh! Sh! Sh!” - -“She’s not actin’ right,” said William severely; “she oughter be -faintin’ or somethin’.” - -“How much do we want for her?” - -“Sixty thousand crowns,” said William. - -“All right,” said Ginger. “I’ll stay and see she don’t get away, an’ -you go an’ tell her people, an’ don’t tell anyone but her father and -mother, or they’ll go gettin’ the money themselves.” - -William hung up his mask behind the door and turned to Ginger, assuming -the scowl and attitude of Rudolph of the Red Hand. - -“All right,” he said, “I’ll go into the jaws of death, and you treat -her with all courtesy till even.” - -“Who’s goin’ to curtsey?” said Ginger indignantly. - -“You don’t understand book talk,” said William, scornfully. - -He bowed low to the maiden, who was still playing at trains. - -“Rudolph of the Red Hand,” he said slowly, with a sinister smile. - -The effect was disappointing. She blew him a kiss. - -“Darlin’ Rudolph,” she said. - -William stalked majestically across the fields towards the Grange, with -one hand inside his coat, in the attitude of Napoleon on the deck of -the _Bellerophon_. - -He went slowly up the drive and up the broad stone steps. Then he rang -the bell. He rang it with the mighty force with which Rudolph of the -Red Hand would have rung it. It pealed frantically in distant regions. -An indignant footman opened the door. - -“I wish to speak to the master of the house on a life or death matter,” -said William importantly. - -He had thought out that phrase on the way up. - -The footman looked him up and down. He looked him up and down as if he -didn’t like him. - -“Ho! _do_ you!” he said. “And hare you aware as you’ve nearly broke our -front-door bell?” - -The echoes of the bell were just beginning to die away. - -Rudolph of the Red Hand folded his arms and emitted a short, sharp -laugh. - -“His Lordship,” said the footman, preparing to close the door, “is -_hout_.” - -“His wife would do, then,” said Rudolph. “Jus’ tell her it’s a life an’ -death matter.” - -“Her Ladyship,” said the footman, “is hengaged, and hany more of your -practical jokes _’ere_, my lad, and you’ll hear of it.” He shut the -door in William’s face. - -William wandered round the house and looked in several of the windows; -he had a lively encounter with a gardener, and finally, on peeping into -the kitchen regions with a scornful laugh, was chased off the premises -by the infuriated footman. Saddened, but not defeated, he returned -across the fields to the barn and flung open the door. Ginger, panting -and perspiring, was dragging the Lady Barbara in the packing-case round -and round the barn by a piece of rope. - -He turned a frowning face to William. A life of crime was proving less -exciting than he had expected. - -“Well, where’s the money?” he said, wiping his brow. “She’s jus’ about -wore me out. She won’t let me stop draggin’ this thing about. An’ she -keeps worryin’, sayin’ you promised her a swing.” - -“He _did!_” said the kidnapped one shrilly. - -“Well, where’s the money?” repeated Ginger. “I’ve jus’ about had enough -of kidnappin’.” - -“I couldn’t _get_ the money,” said William. “I couldn’t make ’em listen -properly. Let’s change, an’ me stay here an’ you go and get the money.” - -“All right,” said Ginger. “I wun’t mind changing to do anything from -this. What shall I say to ’em?” - -“You’d better say you must speak to ’em on life or death. I said that, -but they kind of didn’t listen. They’ll p’raps listen to you.” - -“Well, I jolly well don’t mind goin’,” said Ginger: “she’s a _wearin’_ -kid.” - -He went out and shut the door. - -“Put the funny thing on your face,” ordered Lady Barbara. - -“It’s not funny,” said William coldly, as he adjusted the mask. - -She danced round him, clapping her hands. - -“_Dear_, funny boy! An’ now make me the swing.” - -“I’m not goin’ to make you no swing,” said William firmly. - -“If you don’t make me a swing,” she said, “I’ll sit down an’ I’ll -scream an’ scream till I burst.” - -She began to grow red in the face. - -“There’s no rope,” said William hastily. - -She pointed to a coil of old rope in a dark corner of the barn. - -“That’s rope, silly,” she said. - -He took it out and began to look round for a suitable and low enough -tree. - -“Be _quick!_” ordered his victim. - -At last he had the rope tied up. - -“Now lift me in! Now swing me! Go on! _More! More!_ MORE! Nice, funny -boy!” - -She kept him at that for about half an hour. Then she demanded to be -dragged round the barn in the packing-case. - -“Go _on!_” she said. “_Quicker! Quicker!_” - -The fine, manly spirit of Rudolph of the Red Hand was almost broken. He -began to look weary and disconsolate. - -When Ginger returned, Lady Barbara was wearing the mask and chasing -William. - -“Go on!” she said, “’tend to be frightened. ’Tend to be frightened. Go -on!” - -William turned to Ginger. - -“Well?” he said. - -Ginger looked rather dishevelled. His collar was torn away. - -“You might have told me,” he said indignantly. - -“What?” said William. - -“Go _on!_” said Lady Barbara. - -“That they were like wild beasts up there. They set on me soon as I -said what you told me.” - -“Well, did you get any money?” said William. - -“Now, how could I?” said Ginger irritably, “when they set on me like -wild beasts soon as I said it.” - -“Go _on!_” said Lady Barbara. - -“Well,” said Rudolph of the Red Hand, slowly. “I’m jus’ about fed up.” - -“An’ you cudn’t be fed upper than I am,” replied his gallant brave. - -“Well, let’s chuck it,” said William. “It’s getting tea-time, an’ we’ve -got no money, an’ I’m not goin’ for it again.” - -“Nor’m I,” said Ginger fervently. - -“An’ I’m fed up with this kid.” - -“So’m I,” said Ginger still more fervently. - -“Well, let’s chuck it.” - -He turned to Lady Barbara. “You can go home,” he said. - -Her face fell. - -“I don’t _want_ to go home,” she said; “I’m going to stay with you -always and always.” - -“Well, you’re not,” said William shortly, “’cause we’re going home--so -there.” - -He set off with Ginger across the fields. The kidnapped one ran lightly -beside them. - -“I’m going where you go,” she said. “I _like_ you.” - -[Illustration: “WE KIDNAPPED A KID,” SAID WILLIAM, DISCONSOLATELY, “AN’ -WE CUDN’T GET ANY MONEY FOR HER, AN’ WE CAN’T GET RID OF HER.”] - -They felt that her presence would be difficult to explain to their -parents. Dejectedly, they returned to the barn. - -“I’ll go an’ see if I can see anyone looking for her,” said William. - -“Get down on your hands and knees and let me ride on your back,” -shouted Lady Barbara. Ginger wearily obeyed. - -William went out to the road and looked up it and down. There was no -one there, except a man walking in the direction of the Grange. He -smiled at the expression on William’s face. - -“Hello!” he said, “feeling sick, or lost something?” - -“We kidnapped a kid,” said William disconsolately, “an’ we cudn’t get -any money for her, an’ we can’t get rid of her.” - -The man threw back his head and laughed. - -“Awkward!” he said, “by Jove--jolly awkward! I suppose you’ll have to -take her home.” - -He was no use. - -William turned back to the barn. Lady Barbara was riding round the barn -on Ginger’s back. - -“Go _on!_” she said. “_Quicker!_” - -Ginger turned a purple and desperate face to William. - -“If you don’t do something _soon_,” he said, “I shall probably go mad -and kill someone.” - -“We’ll have to take her back,” said William grimly. - -The kidnappers walked in gloomy silence; the kidnapped danced along -between them, holding a hand of each. - -“I’m going wherever you go,” she said; “I love you.” - -Once Ginger spoke. - -“_You’re_ a nice kidnapper,” he said bitterly. - -“I cudn’t help it,” said William. “It all went different in the book.” - -Near the steps of the front door a lady was standing. - -Ginger turned and fled at the sight of her. Lady Barbara held William’s -hand fast. William hesitated till flight was impossible. - -“Oh, _there_ you are, darling,” the lady said. - -“Dear, nice boy,” said Lady Barbara. “He’s been playing with me all the -time. And the other--but the other’s gone. It’s been lovely. I _do_ -love him. May we keep him?” - -“Darling,” said the lady, “I’ve only just heard you were lost. Nanny’s -in a dreadful state. And this little boy found you and took care of -you? _Dear_ little boy!” - -She bent down and kissed the outraged and horrified William. “How -_very_ kind of you to look after my little girl and bring her back so -nicely. Now come and have some tea.” - -She led William, too broken in spirit to resist, up the steps into the -hall, then into a room. Lady Barbara still held his hand tightly. There -was tea in the room and _people_. Horror of horrors! It was his mother -and Ethel. There were confused explanations. - -“And her nurse went to sleep, and she must have wandered off and got -lost, and your little boy found her, and played with her, and looked -after her, and brought her back for tea. _Dear_ little man!” - -A man entered--the man who had accosted William on the road. He was -evidently the father of the little girl. The story was repeated to him. - -“Great!” he said, looking at William with amusement and a certain -sympathy in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying the situation. William -glared at him. - -“An’ he rode me on his back, and gave me rides in the box, and made me -a swing, and put on a funny face to make me laugh.” - -“_Dear_ little man!” crooned Lady d’Arcey. - -They put him gently into a chesterfield, and Barbara sat beside him -leaning against him. - -“Nice boy,” she said. - -Mrs. Brown and Ethel beamed proudly. - -“And he _pretends_,” said Mrs. Brown, “not to like little girls. We -misjudge children so sometimes. You’ll go to the dancing class _now_, -won’t you, dear?” she ended archly. - -“_Dear_ little fellow!” said Lady d’Arcey. - -It was only the fact that he had no weapon in his hand and that he had -given up the unequal struggle against the malignancy of Fate that saved -William from murder on a wholesale scale. - -Barbara smiled on him fondly. Barbara’s mother smiled on him tenderly, -his mother and sister smiled on him proudly, and in their midst Rudolph -of the Red Hand, with rage and shame and humiliation in his heart, -savagely ate his sugared cake. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WILLIAM’S EVENING OUT - - -William’s family had come up to London for a holiday. They had brought -William with them chiefly because it was not safe to leave William -behind. William was not the sort of boy who could be trusted to live a -quiet and blameless life at home in the absence of his parents. He had -many noble qualities, but he had not that one. So William gloomily and -reluctantly accompanied his family to London. - -William’s elder sister and mother lived in a whirl of shopping and -theatres; William’s elder brother went every day to see a county -cricket match, and returned in a state of frenzied excitement to -discuss the play and players all the evening without the slightest -encouragement from any one; William’s father foregathered with old -cronies at his club or slept in the hotel smoking-room. - -It was open to William to accompany any of the members of his family. -He might shop and attend _matinées_ with his mother and Ethel, he might -go (on sufferance) to watch cricket matches with Robert, or he might -sleep in the smoking-room with his father. - -He was encouraged by each of them to join some other member of the -family, and he occasionally managed to evade them all and spend the -afternoon sliding down the banisters (till firmly, but politely, -checked by the manager of the hotel), watching for any temporary -absence of the liftman during which he might try to manipulate the -machine itself or contending with the most impudent-looking page-boy -in a silent and furtive rivalry in grimaces. But, in spite of this, he -was supremely bored. He regarded the centre of the British Empire with -contempt. - -“_Streets!_” he said, with devastating scorn, at the end of his first -day here. “_Shops!_ Huh!” - -William’s soul pined for the fields and lanes and woods of his home; -for his band of boon companions, with whom he was wont to wrestle, and -fight, and trespass, and plot dare-devil schemes, and set the world -at defiance; for the irate farmers who helped to supply that spice of -danger and excitement without which life to William and his friends was -unendurable. - -He took his London pleasures sadly. - -“Oh--_history!_” he remarked coldly, when they escorted him round -Westminster Abbey. His only comment on being shown the Tower was that -it seemed to be takin’ up the whole day, not that there was much else -to do, anyway. - -His soul yearned for the society of his own kind. The son of his -mother’s cousin, who lived near, had come to see him one day. He -was a tall, pale boy, who asked William if he could fox-trot, and -if he didn’t adore Axel Haig’s etchings, and if he didn’t prefer -Paris to London. The conversation was an unsatisfactory one, and the -acquaintance did not ripen. - -But, accompanying his family on various short cuts in the back streets -of London, he had glimpsed another world, a world of street urchins, -who fought and wrestled, and gave vent to piercing whistles, and -hung on to the backs of carts, and paddled in the gutter, and rang -front-door bells and fled from policemen. He watched it wistfully. -Socially, his tastes were not high. All he demanded from life was -danger and excitement and movement and the society of his own kind. He -liked boys, crowds of boys, boys who shouted and whistled and ran and -courted danger, boys who had never heard of any silly old etchings. - -As he followed his family with his air of patient martyrdom on all -their expeditions, it was the glimpse of this underworld alone that -would lift the shadow from his furrowed brow and bring a light to his -stern, freckled countenance.... There were times when he stopped and -tried to get into contact with it, but it was not successful. His -mother’s “Come along, William! Don’t speak to those horrid little -boys,” always recalled him to the blameless and palling respectability -of his own family. Yet even before that hateful cry interrupted him he -knew that it was useless. - -He was an alien being--a clean little boy in a neat suit, with a -fashionable mother and sister. He was beyond the pale, an outsider, -a pariah, a creature to be mocked and jeered at. The position galled -William. He was, by instinct, on the side of the lawless--the -anti-respectable. - -His spirits rose as the time for his return to the country approached. -Yet there was a wistful longing at his heart for the boy world of -London still unexplored, as well as a fierce contempt for the London -his parents had revealed to him. - - * * * * * - -William had been invited to a party on his last evening in London. -William’s mother’s cousin lived in Kensington, and had invited William -to a “little gathering of her children’s friends.” William did not -wish to go to the party. What is more, William did not intend to go to -the party. But a wonderful plan had come into William’s head. - -“It’s very kind of her,” he said meekly. “Yes, I’ll be very pleased to -go.” - -This was unlike William’s usual manner of receiving an invitation to a -party. Generally there were expostulations, indignation, assertion of -complete incapacity to go to anything that particular night. William’s -mother looked at him. - -“You--you feel all right, don’t you, dear?” she said anxiously. - -“Oh, yes,” said William, “an’ I feel I’d jus’ like a party.” - -“You can wear your Eton suit,” said Mrs. Brown. - -“Oh, yes,” said William. “I’d like that.” - -William’s face was quite expressionless as he spoke. Mrs. Brown pinched -herself to make sure that she was awake. - -“I expect they’ll have music and dancing and that sort of thing,” she -said. - -She thought, perhaps, that William had misunderstood the kind of party -it would be. - -William’s expressionless face did not change. - -“Oh, yes,” he said pleasantly, “music an’ dancin’ will be fine.” - -When Mr. Brown was told of the invitation he groaned. - -“And I suppose it will take the whole day to make him go,” he said. - -“No,” said Mrs. Brown eagerly. “That’s the strange part. He seems to -_want_ to go. He really does. And he seems to _want_ to wear his Eton -suit, and you know what a bother that used to be. I suppose he’s -beginning to take a pride in his appearance. I think London must be -civilising him.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Brown, dryly, “I suppose you know best. I suppose -miracles do happen.” - -When the evening of the party arrived, there was some difficulty as to -the transit of William to his place of entertainment. The house was -so near to the hotel where the Browns were staying that a taxi seemed -hardly worth while. But there was a general reluctance to be his escort. - -Ethel was going to a theatre, and Robert had been out all day and -thought he deserved a bit of rest in the evening, instead of carting -kids about, Mrs. Brown’s rheumatism had come on again, and Mr. Brown -wanted to read the evening paper. - -William, sleek and smooth, and brushed and encased in his Eton suit, -his freckled face shining with cleanliness and virtue, broke meekly -into the discussion. - -“I know the way, mother. Can’t I just go myself?” - -Mrs. Brown wavered. - -“I don’t see why not,” she said at last. - -“If you think that boy can walk three yards by himself without getting -into mischief----” began Mr. Brown. - -William turned innocent, reproachful eyes upon him. - -“Oh, but _look_ at him,” said Mrs. Brown; “and it isn’t as if he didn’t -want to go to the party. You want to go, don’t you, dear?” - -“Yes, mother,” said William, meekly. - -His father threw him a keen glance. - -“Well, of course,” he said, returning to his paper, “do as you like. -I’m certainly not going with him myself, but don’t blame me if he blows -up the Houses of Parliament or dams the Thames, or pulls down Nelson’s -Monument.” - -William’s sorrowful, wistful glance was turned again upon his father. - -“I won’t do any of those things, I promise, father,” he said solemnly. - -“I don’t see why he shouldn’t go alone,” said Mrs. Brown. “It’s not -far, and he’s sure to be good, because he’s looking forward to it so; -aren’t you, William?” - -“Yes, mother,” said William, with his most inscrutable expression. - -So he went alone. - - * * * * * - -William set off briskly down the street--a neat figure in an Eton suit, -an overcoat, a well-fitting cap and patent leather shoes. - -His expression had relaxed as soon as the scrutiny of his family was -withdrawn. It became expectant and determined. - -Once out of the sight of possible watchers from the hotel, he turned -off the road that led to his mother’s cousin’s house, and walked -purposefully down a side street and thence to another side street. - -There they were. He knew they would be there. Boys--boys after -William’s own heart--dirty boys, shouting boys, whistling boys, -fighting boys. William approached. At his own home he would have been -acclaimed at once as leader of any lawless horde. But here he was not -known. His present appearance, moreover--brushed hair, evening clothes, -clean face--was against him. To them he was a thing taboo. They turned -on him with delightful yells of scorn. - -“Yah!” - -“Where’s yer mammy?” - -“Look at ’is shoes! Boo-oo!” - -“_Isn’t_ ’is ’air brushed nice?” - -“Yah!” - -“Boo!” - -“Garn!” - -The tallest of them snatched William’s cap from his head and ran off -with it. The snatching of a boy’s cap from his head is a deadly insult. -William, whose one wistful desire was to be friends with his new -acquaintances, yet had his dignity to maintain. He flew after the boy -and caught him by the back of his neck. Then they closed. - -The rest of the tribe stood round them in a ring, giving advice and -encouragement. Their contempt for William vanished. For William was -a good fighter. He lost his collar and acquired a black eye; and his -hair, in the exhilaration of the contest, recovered from its recent -severe brushing and returned to its favourite vertical angle. - -The two were fairly well matched, and the fight was a most satisfactory -one till the cry of “Cops” brought it to an abrupt end, and the crowd -of boys, with William now in the middle, fled precipitately down -another street. When they were at a safe distance from the blue helmet, -they stopped, and the large boy handed William his cap. - -“’Ere you _are_,” he said, with a certain respect. - -William, with a careless gesture, tossed the cap into the air. “Don’t -want it,” he said. - -“Wot’s yer nime?” - -“William.” - -“’E’s called Bill,” said the boy to the others. - -William read in their faces a growing interest, not quite friendship -yet, but still not quite contempt. He glowed with pride. He put his -hands into the pockets of his overcoat and there met--a sixpence--joy! - -“Wot’s your name?” he said to his late adversary. - -“’Erb,” said the other, still staring at William with interest. - -“Come on, ’Erb,” said William jauntily, “let’s buy some sweets, eh?” - -He entered a small, unsavouring sweetshop, and the whole tribe crowded -in after him. He and ’Erb discussed the rival merits of bulls’ eyes and -cokernut kisses at length. - -“Them larses longer,” said ’Erb, “but these ’ere tases nicer.” - -Finally, William airily tasted one of the cokernut kisses and the whole -tribe followed his example--to be chased by the indignant shopkeeper -all the way down the street. - -“_Eatin’_ of ’em!” he shouted furiously. “_Eatin’_ of ’em without -_payin’_ for ’em. I’ll set the cops on ye--ye young thieves.” - - * * * * * - -They rushed along the next street shouting, whistling and pushing each -other. William’s whistle was louder than any, he ran the foremost. -The lust of lawlessness was growing on him. They swarmed in at the -next sweetshop, and William purchased sixpennyworth of bulls’ eyes and -poured them recklessly out of the bag into the grimy, outstretched -palms that surrounded him. - -William had no idea where he was. His hands were as grimy as the hands -of his companions, his face was streaked with dirt wherever his hands -had touched it, his eye was black, his collar was gone, his hair was -wild, his overcoat had lost its look of tailored freshness. And he was -happy at last. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM WAS HAPPY AT LAST. HE WAS A BOY AMONG BOYS--AN -OUTLAW AMONG OUTLAWS] - -[Illustration: THEY RUSHED ALONG THE NEXT STREET, SHOUTING AND -WHISTLING.] - -He was no longer a little gentleman staying at a select hotel with his -family. He was a boy among boys--an outlaw among outlaws once more. -He was no longer a pariah. He had proved his valour in fighting and -running and whistling. He was almost accepted, not quite. He was alight -with exhilaration. - -In the next street a watering cart had just passed, and there was a -broad muddy stream flowing along the gutter. With a whoop of joy the -tribe made for it, ’Erb at the head, closely followed by William. - -William’s patent leather shoes began to lose their damning smartness. -It was William who began to stamp as he walked, and the rest at once -followed suit--splashing, shouting, whistling, jostling, they followed -the muddy stream through street after street. At every corner William -seemed to shed yet another portion of the nice equipment of the -boy-who-is-going-to-a-party. No party would have claimed him now--no -hostess greeted him--no housemaid admitted him--he had completely -“burned his boats.” But he was happy. - -All good things come to an end, however, even a muddy stream in a -gutter, and ’Erb, still leader, called out: “Come on, you chaps! Come -on, Bill--bells!” - -Along both sides of a street they flew at break-neck speed, pulling -every bell as they passed. Three enraged householders pursued them. One -of them, fleeter than the other two, caught the smallest and slowest of -the tribe and began to execute corporal punishment. - -It was William who returned, charged from behind, left the householder -winded in the gutter, and dragged the yelling scapegoat to the shelter -of his tribe. - -“Good ole Bill,” said ’Erb, and William’s heart swelled again with -pride. Nothing on earth would now have checked his victorious career. - -A motor-van passed with another gang of street-urchins hanging on -merrily behind. With a yell of battle, William hurled himself upon -them, struggled with them in mid-air, and established himself, cheering -on his own tribe and pushing off the others. - -In the fight William lost his overcoat, his Eton coat was torn from top -to bottom, and his waistcoat ripped open. But his tribe won the day; -the rival tribe dropped off, hurling ineffectual taunts and insults, -and on sailed William and his gang, half-running, half-riding, with an -exhilarating mixture of physical exercise and joy-riding unknown to the -more law-abiding citizen. - -And in the midst was William--William serene and triumphant, William -dirty and ragged, William acclaimed leader at last. The motor-van put -on speed. There was a ride of pure breathless joy and peril before, at -last exhausted, they dropped off. - - * * * * * - -Then ’Erb turned to William: “Wot you doin’ to-night, maite?” he said. - -“Maite!” William’s heart glowed. - -“Nothin’, maite,” answered William carelessly. - -“Oi’m goin’ to the picshers,” said ’Erb. “If you loike ter ’elp my o’d -woman with the corfee-stall, she’ll give yer a tanner.” - -A coffee-stall--Oh, joy! Was the magic of this evening inexhaustible? - -“Oi’ll ’elp ’er orl _roight_, maite,” said William, making an effort to -acquire his new friend’s accent and intonation. - -“Oi’ll taike yer near up to it,” said ’Erb, and to the gang: “Nah, you -run orf ’ome, kids. Me an’ Bill is busy.” - -He gave William a piece of chewing-gum, which William proudly took and -chewed and swallowed, and led him to a street-corner, from where a -coffee-stall could be seen in a glare of flaming oil-jets. - -“You just say ‘’Erb sent me,’ an’ you bet you’ll get a tanner when she -shuts up--if she’s not in a paddy. Go on. Goo’-night.” - -He fled, leaving William to approach the stall alone. A large, untidy -woman regarded him with arms akimbo. - -“I’ve come ter ’elp with the stall,” said William, trying to speak with -the purest of Cockney accents. “’Erb sent me.” - -The woman regarded him with a hostile stare, still with arms akimbo. - -“Oh, ’e did, did ’e? ’E’s allus ready ter send someone else. ’E’s gone -ter the picshers, I suppose? ’E’s a nice son fer a poor woman ter ’ave, -isn’t ’e? Larkin’ abaht orl day an’ goin’ ter picshers orl night--an’ -where do _Oi_ come in? I asks yer, where do _Oi_ come in?” - -William, feeling that some reply was expected, said that he didn’t -know. She looked him up and down. Her expression implied that her -conclusions were far from complimentary. - -“An’ _you_--I serpose--one of the young divvils ’e picks up from -’Evving knows where. Told yer yer’d git a tanner, I serpose? Well, -yer’ll git a tanner if yer be’aves ter _my_ likin’, an yer’ll git a box -on the ears if yer don’. Oh, come on, do; don’t stand there orl night. -’Ere’s the hapron--buns is a penny each, an’ sangwiches a penny each, -and cups o’ corfy a penny each. Git a move on.” - -He was actually installed behind the counter. He was actually covered -from neck to foot in a white apron. His rapture knew no bounds. He -served strong men with sandwiches and cups of coffee. He dropped their -pennies into the wooden till. He gave change (generally wrong). He -turned the handle of the fascinating urn. He could not resist the -handle of the little urn. When there were no customers he turned the -handle, to see the little brown stream gush out in little spurts on to -the floor or on to the counter. - -His feeling of importance as he handed over buns and received pennies -was indescribable. He felt like a king--like a god. He had forgotten -all about his family.... - -Then the stout lady presented him with a bowl of hot water, a -dish-cloth, and a towel, and told him to wash up. Wash up! He had -never washed up before. He swished the water round the bowl with the -dish-cloth very fast one way, and then quickly changed and swished it -round the other. It was fascinating. He lifted the dish-cloth high out -of the water and swirled the thin stream to and fro. He soaked his -apron and swamped the floor. - -Finally, his patroness, who had been indulging in a doze, awoke and -fixed eyes of horror upon him. - -“What yer think yer a-doing of?” she said indignantly. “Yer think yer -at the seaside, don’t yer? Yer think yer’ve got yer little bucket an’ -spade, don’t yer? Waistin’ of good water--spoilin’ of a good hapron. -Where did ’Erb find _yer_, I’d like ter know. Picked yer aht of a -lunatic asylum, _I_ should say.... Oh, lumme, ’ere’s toffs comin’. -Sharp, now, be ready wiv the hurn an’ try an’ ’ave a _bit_ of sense, -an’ heverythin’ double price fer toffs, now--don’t forget.” - - * * * * * - -But William, with a sinking heart, had recognised the toffs. Looking -wildly round he saw a large cap (presumably ’Erb’s) on a lower shelf of -the stall. He seized it, put it on, and dragged it over his eye. The -“toffs” approached--four of them. One of them, the elder lady, seemed -upset. - -“Have you seen,” she said to the owner of the stall, “a little boy -anywhere about--a little boy in an Eton suit?” - -“No, mam,” said the proprietress, “I hain’t seen no one in a heton -suit.” - -“He was going out to a party,” went on Mrs. Brown breathlessly, “and he -must have got lost on the way. They rang up to say he hadn’t arrived, -and the police have had no news of him, and we’ve traced him to this -locality. You--you haven’t seen a little boy that looked as if he were -going to a party?” - -“No, mam,” said the lady of the coffee-stall. “I hain’t seen no little -boy goin’ to no party this hevening.” - -“Oh, mother,” said Ethel; and William, trying to hide his face between -his cap-brim and his apron, groaned in spirit as he heard her voice. -“Do let’s have some coffee now we’re here.” - -“Very well, darling,” said Mrs. Brown. “Four cups of coffee, please.” - -William, still cowering under his cap, poured them out and handed them -over the counter. - -“You couldn’t mistake him,” said Mrs. Brown, tearfully. “He had a nice -blue overcoat over his Eton suit, and a blue cap to match, and patent -leather shoes, and he was _so_ looking forward to the party, I can’t -think----” - -“How much?” said William’s father to William. - -“Twopence each,” muttered William. - -There was a horrible silence. - -“I beg your pardon,” said William’s father suavely, and William’s heart -sank. - -“Twopence each,” he muttered again. - -There was another horrible silence. - -“May I trouble you,” went on William’s father--and from the deadly -politeness of his tone, William realised that all was over--“may I -trouble you to remove your cap a moment? Something about your voice -and the lower portion of your face reminds me of a near relative of -mine----” - -But it was Robert who snatched ’Erb’s cap from his head and stripped -his apron from him, and said: “You young devil!” and Ethel who said: -“Goodness, just _look_ at his clothes,” and Mrs. Brown who said: “Oh, -my darling little William, and I though I’d lost you”; and the lady of -the coffee-stall who said: “Well, yer can _’ave_ ’im fer all ’e knows -abaht washin’-up.” - -And William returned sad but unrepentant to the bosom of outraged -Respectability. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WILLIAM ADVERTISES - - -A new sweetshop, Mallards by name, had been opened in the village. It -had been the sensation of the week to William and his friends. For it -sold everything a halfpenny cheaper than Mr. Moss. - -It revolutionised the finances of the Outlaws. The Outlaws was the -secret society which comprised William and his friends Ginger, Henry, -and Douglas. Jumble, William’s disreputable mongrel, was its mascot. - -The Outlaws patronised Mallards’ generously on the first Saturday -of its career. William spent his whole threepence there on separate -halfpennyworths. He insisted on the halfpennyworths. He said firmly -that Mr. Moss always let him have halfpennyworths. In the end the -red-haired young woman behind the counter yielded to him. She yielded -reluctantly and scornfully. She took no interest in his choice. She -asked him in a voice of bored contempt not to finger the Edinburgh -Rock. She muttered as she did up his package--“waste of paper and -time”--“never heard such nonsense”--“ha’porths _indeed_.” - -William went out of the shop, placing his five minute packets in -already over-full pockets and keeping out the sixth for present -consumption. - -“I’m not _sure_,” he said darkly to Ginger and Henry, who accompanied -him--Douglas was away from home--“I’m not _sure_ as I’m ever going -_there_ again---- Have a bull’s eye?--I didn’t like the way she looked -at me nor spoke at me--an’ I’ve a jolly _good_ mind not to go to -Mallards next Saturday.” - -“But it’s cheap,” said Ginger, taking out his package. “Have an aniseed -ball?--an’ it’s _cheap_ that matters in a shop, I should think.” - -“Well, I don’t _know_,” said William, with an air of wisdom. “That’s -all I say--I jus’ don’t _know_---I jus’ don’t _know_ that cheap’s all -that matters.” - -“Well, wot else matters? You tell me that,” said Henry, crunching up -a bull’s eye and an aniseed ball simultaneously, and taking out his -package. “Have a pear drop?--You jus’ tell me wot matters besides -_cheap_ in a shop.” - -William, perceiving that the general feeling was against him, put -another bull’s eye in his mouth and waxed irritable. - -“Well, don’t talk about it so much,” he said. “You keep talkin’ an’ -talkin’----” Then an argument occurred to him, and he brought it -out with triumph. “S’pose anyone was a _murderer_--well, wot would -_cheap_ have to do with it?--S’pose someone wot had a shop murdered -someone--well, I s’pose if they was _cheap_ you’d say it was all right! -Huh!” - -With an expression of intense scorn and amusement William put the last -bull’s eye into his mouth, threw away the paper, and took out the -treacle toffee. - -“Well, who’s she murdered?” said Ginger pugnaciously. “Jus’ ’cause -she din’ want to give you ha’p’orths you go an’ say she’s _murdered_ -someone---- Well, who’s she murdered, that’s all?--you can’t go callin’ -folks murderers an’ not prove _who_ they’ve murdered. Bring out _who_ -she’s murdered--that’s all.” - -William was at the moment deeply engrossed in his treacle toffee. - -The red-haired girl had given it an insufficient allowance of paper, -and in William’s pocket it had lost even this, and formed a deep -attachment to a piece of putty which a friendly plumber had kindly -given him the day before. The piece of putty was at that moment the -apple of William’s eye. He detached it gently from the toffee and -examined it tenderly to make sure that it was not harmed. Finally he -replaced it in his pocket and put the toffee in his mouth. Then he -returned to the argument. - -“How can I bring out who she’s murdered if she’s murdered them. That’s -a sens’ble thing to say, isn’t it? If she’s _murdered_ ’em she’s -_buried_ ’em. Do you think folks wot murder folks leaves ’em about for -other folks to bring out to show they’ve murdered ’em? You’ve not got -much sense. That’s all I say. You don’t know much about _murderers_. -Why do you keep talkin’ about murderers if you don’t know anything -about ’em?” - -Ginger was growing slightly bewildered. Arguments with William often -left him bewildered. He was inclined, on the whole, to think that -perhaps William was right, and she had murdered someone. - -At this point Jumble created a diversion. Jumble loved treacle toffee, -and he had caught a whiff of the divine perfume. He sat up promptly to -beg for some, but the Outlaws’ mascot was seldom lucky himself. He sat -up on the very edge of a ditch, and William could not resist giving him -a push. - -Jumble picked himself out of the bottom of the ditch and shook off the -water, grinning and wagging his tail. Jumble was a sportsman. William -had finished the treacle toffee, but Henry threw Jumble an aniseed -ball, which he licked, rolled with his paw, and abandoned, and which -Henry then carefully put back with the others in his packet. Then -William threw a stick for him, and the discussion of the red-haired -girl’s morals was definitely abandoned. - - * * * * * - -At the corner of the road they espied Joan Crewe. Though fluffy and -curled and exquisitely dressed herself, Joan adored William’s roughness -and untidiness. - -“Hello!” said Joan. - -“Hello!” said the Outlaws. - -“Have you been to Mallards’?” said Joan. - -“Umph!” said the Outlaws. - -“It’s a halfpenny cheaper than Moss’.” - -“Yes,” said Ginger, “but William says she’s a murderer.” - -“I _di’n’t_,” said William irritably. “You can’t understand English. -That’s wot’s wrong with you. You can’t understand English. Wot I said -_was_----” - -Finding that he had entirely forgotten how the argument arose he -hastily changed the subject. “Wot you’re goin’ to do now?” he said. - -“Anything,” said Joan obligingly. - -“Have a coco-nut lump?” said William, taking out his third bag. - -“Have an aniseed ball?” said Ginger. - -“Have a pear drop?” said Henry. - -Joan took one of each and took out a bag from her pocket. - -“Have a liquorice treasure?” she said. - -Munching cheerfully they walked along the road, stopping to throw -a stick for Jumble every now and then. Jumble then performed his -“trick.” His “trick” was to walk between William and Ginger, a paw in -each of their hands. It was a “trick” that Jumble cordially detested. -He generally managed to avoid it. The word “trick” generally sent him -flying towards the horizon like an arrow from a bow. But this time he -was hoping that William still had some treacle toffee concealed on his -person, and did not take to his heels in time. He was finally released -with a kiss from Joan on the end of his nose. In joy at his freedom, he -found a stick, worried it, ran after his tail, and finally darted down -the road. - -“Have a monkey-nut?” said William. - -They partook of his last packet. - -“I once heard a boy say,” said Henry solemnly, “that people who eat -monkey-nuts get monkey puzzle trees growin’ out of their mouths.” - -“I don’t s’pose,” said Ginger, as he swallowed his, “that jus’ a few -could do it.” - -“Anyway, it would be rather interestin’,” said William, “going about -with a tree comin’ out of your mouth--you could slash things about with -it.” - -“But think of the orful pain,” said Henry dejectedly; “roots growin’ -inside your stomach.” - -Joan handed her monkey-nut back to William. - -“I--I don’t think I’ll have one, thank you, William,” she said. - -“All right,” said William, philosophically cracking it and putting it -into his mouth. “I don’t mind eatin’ ’em. Let ’em start growin’ trees -out of _my_ stomach if they _can_.” - -They were nearing a little old-fashioned sweetshop. A man in check -trousers, shirt-sleeves, and a white apron stood in the doorway. -Generally Mr. Moss radiated cheerfulness. To-day he looked depressed. -They approached him somewhat guiltily. - -“Well,” he said. “You coming to spend your Saturday money?” - -“Er--no,” said William. - -“We’ve spent it,” said Ginger. - -“At Mallard’s,” said Henry. - -“It’s--it’s a halfpenny cheaper,” said Joan. - -“Well,” said Mr. Moss, “I don’t blame you. Mind, I don’t blame you. -You’re quite right to go where it’s a halfpenny cheaper. You’d be -foolish if you didn’t go where it’s a halfpenny cheaper. But all I -say is it’s not fair on me. They’re a big company, they are, and I’m -not. They’ve got shops all over the big towns they have, and I’ve not. -They’ve got capital behind ’em, they have, an’ I’ve not. They can -afford to give things away, an’ I can’t. I’ve always kept prices as low -as I could so as jus’ to be able to keep myself on ’em, an’ I can’t -lower them no further. That’s where they’ve got me. They can undercut. -They don’t need to make a profit at first. An’ all I say is it’s not -fair on me. They say as this here place is growin’ an’ there’s room for -the two of us. Well, all I can say is not more’n ten people’s come into -this here shop since they set up, an’ it’s not fair on me.” - -His audience of four, clustered around his shop-door, listened in -big-eyed admiration. As he stopped for breath, William said earnestly: - -“Well, we won’t buy no _more_ of their ole stuff, anyway----” - -The Outlaws confirmed this statement eagerly, but Mr. Moss raised his -hand. “No,” he said. “You oughter go where you get stuff cheapest. I -don’t blame you. You’re quite right.” - -They walked alone in silence for a little while. The memory of Mr. -Moss, wistful and bewildered, with his cheerful hilarity gone, remained -with them. - -“I won’t go to that old Mallards’ again while I live,” said William -firmly. - -“Anyway, she wasn’t nice. I didn’t like her,” said Joan. - -“She didn’t _care_ what you bought,” said William indignantly. “She -didn’t take any _interest_ like wot Mr. Moss does.” - -“Yes, an’ if she _murders_ folks as William says she does----” began -Ginger. - -“I wish you’d shut _up_ talking about that,” said William. “I di’n’t -say she’d murdered anyone.” - -“You did.” - -“I di’n’t.” - -“You _did_.” - -“I _di’n’t_.” - -“Do have another liquorice treasure,” said Joan. - -Peaceful munchings were resumed. - -“Anyway,” said William, returning to the matter in hand, “I’d like to -_do_ something for Mr. Moss.” - -“Wot _could_ we do?” said Ginger. - -“We could stop folks goin’ to old Mallards’--’Tisn’t as if she took any -_in_t’rest in wot you buy.” - -“Well, _how_ could we stop folks goin’ to ole Mallards’?” - -“_Make_ ’em go to Mr. Moss.” - -“Well, _how_--why don’ you say _how?_” - -“Well, we’d have to have a meeting about it--an Outlaw meeting. Let’s -have one now. Let’s go to our woodshed an’ have one now.” - -Joan’s face fell. - -“I can’t come, can I? I’m not an Outlaw.” - -“You can be an Outlaw ally,” said William kindly. “We’ll make up a -special oath, for you, an’ give you a special secret sign.” - -Joan’s eyes shone. - -“Oh, thank you, William darling.” - - * * * * * - -Joan had taken the special oath. It had consisted of the words: “I will -not betray the secrets of the Outlaws, an’ I will stick up for the -Outlaws till death do us part.” - -The last phrase was an inspiration of Henry’s, who had been to his -cousin’s wedding the week before. - -They sat down on logs or stacks of firewood or packing-cases to -consider the question of Mr. Moss. - -“First thing is,” said William, with a business-like frown, “we’ve got -to make people go to Mr. Moss.” - -“Well, how can we?” objected Ginger. “Jus’ tell me that? How can we -make people go to Moss’ when Mallards’ is halfpenny cheaper?” - -“Same way as big shops make people go to them--they put up notices an’ -things--they say their things is better than other shops’ things, an’ -folks believes ’em.” - -“Well, why should folks believe ’em?” said Ginger pugnaciously. -Henry was engaged upon his last few pear drops and had no time for -conversation. “Why should folks b’lieve ’em when they say they’re -better than other shops? An’ how can we stick up notices an’ where -an’ who’ll let us stick up notices? You don’t talk sense. You’re mad, -that’s wot you are. First you go about calling folks murderers when you -don’t know _who_ they’ve murdered, nor nothin’ about it, an’ then you -talk about stickin’ up notices when there isn’t anyone who’d let us -stick up any notices, nor anyone who’d take any notice of notices wot -we stuck up nor----” - -“If you’d jus’ stop _talkin’_,” said William, “an’ deafenin’ us all for -jus’ a bit. You’ve been talkin’ an’ deafenin’ us all ever since you -came out. D’you think we never want to hear anythin’ all our lives ever -till death, but you talkin’ an’ deafenin’ us all? There _is_ things -that we’d like to hear ’sides you talkin’ an’ deafenin’ us all--there’s -music an’ birds singing, an’--an’ other folks talkin’, but you go on -so’s anyone would think that----” - -Here Ginger hurled himself upon William, and the two of them rolled -on to the floor and wrestled among the faggots. Violent physical -encounters were a regular part of the programme of the Outlaws’ -meetings. Henry watched nonchalantly from his perch, crunching pear -drops, occasionally throwing small twigs at them, and saying: “Go -it!”--“That’s right!”--“Go _it!_” Joan watched with anxious horror, and -“William, do be _careful_,” and: “Oh, Ginger, darling, don’t _hurt_ -him.” - -Finally the combatants rose, dusty and dishevelled, shook hands, and -resumed their seats on the stacks of firewood. - -“Now, if you’ll only let me _speak_----” began William. - -“We will, William, darling,” said Joan. “Ginger won’t interrupt, will -you, Ginger?” - -Ginger, who had decidedly had the worst of the battle, was removing -dust and twigs from his mouth. He gave a non-committal grunt. - -“Well, you know the Sale of Work next week?” went on William. They -groaned. It was a ceremony to which each of the company would be led, -brushed and combed and dressed in gala clothes, in a proud parent’s -wake. - -“Well,” went on William. “You jus’ listen carefully. I got an idea.” - -They leant forward eagerly. They had a touching faith in William’s -ideas that no amount of bitter experiences seemed able to destroy. - - * * * * * - -The day of the Sale of Work was warm and cloudless. William’s mother -and sister worked there all the morning. A tent had been erected, and -inside the tent were a few select stalls of flowers and vegetables. -Outside on the grass were the other stalls. The opening ceremony was to -be performed by a real live duke. - -William absented himself for the greater part of the morning, returning -in time for lunch, and meekly offering himself to be cleaned and -dressed afterwards like the proverbial lamb for the slaughter. - -“William,” said Mrs. Brown to her husband, “is being almost too good to -be true. It’s such a comfort.” - -“I’m glad you can take comfort in it,” said Mr. Brown. “From my -knowledge of William, I prefer him when you know what tricks he’s up -to.” - -“Oh, I think you misjudge him,” said Mrs. Brown, whose trust in William -was almost pathetic. - -“Ethel and I can’t go to the opening, darling,” said Mrs. Brown at -lunch. “I’m rather tired. So I suppose you’ll wait and go with us -later.” - -William smiled his painfully sweet smile. - -“I might as well go early. I might be able to help someone,” he said -shamelessly. - -Half an hour later William set off alone to the Sale of Work. He wore -his super-best clothes. His hair was brushed to a chastened, sleek -smoothness. He wore kid gloves. His shoes shone like stars. - -He walked briskly down to the Sale of Work. Already a gay throng had -assembled there. Joan was there, looking like a piece of thistledown in -fluffy white, with her mother. Ginger was there, stiff and immaculate, -with his mother. - -William, Ginger, and Henry joined forces and stood talking in low, -conspiratorial voices, looking rather uncomfortable in their excessive -cleanness. Joan looked at them wistfully but was kept close to the -maternal side. - -The real live duke arrived. He was tall and stooping, and looked very -bored and aristocratic. - -Everything was ready for the opening. It was to take place on the open -space of grass at the back of the tent. The chairs for the committee -and the chair for the duke were close to the tent. Then a space was -railed off from the crowd--from the ordinary people. - -At the other side of the tent the stalls were deserted. His Grace stood -for a few minutes in the tent by one of the stalls talking to the -vicar’s wife. Then he went out to open the Sale of Work. A few minutes -after his Grace had departed, William might have been seen to emerge -from beneath the stall, his cap gone, his hair deranged, his knees -dusty, and join Ginger and Henry in the deserted space behind the tent. - -His Grace stood and uttered the few languid words that declared the -Sale of Work open. But the committee who were a few yards behind him -sat in open-mouthed astonishment. For a large placard adorned his -Grace’s coat behind. - - +-----------------+ - | HAVE YOU TRYD | - | MOSSES | - | COKERNUT LUMPS? | - +-----------------+ - -The committee could think of no course of action with which to -meet this crisis. They could only gasp with horror, open-eyed and -open-mouthed. - -The few gracious words were said. The applause rose. His Grace turned -round to converse pleasantly with the Vicar’s wife, exposing his -back to the view of the crowd. The applause wavered, then redoubled -ecstatically. - -“Some kind of an advertising job,” said the organist’s wife. - -But the crowd did not mind what it was. They held their sides. They -clung to each other in helpless mirth. They followed that tall, slim, -elegant figure with its incongruous placard as it went with the vicar’s -wife round the tent to the stalls. The vicar’s wife talked nervously, -and hysterically. “My dear, I _couldn’t_,” she said afterwards. “I -didn’t know how to put it. I couldn’t think of words--and I kept -thinking, suppose he knows and _means_ it to be there. It somehow -seemed better bred to ignore it.” - -The committee clustered together in an anxious group. - -“It wasn’t there when he came. Someone must have put it on.” - -“My dear, someone must tell him.” - -“Or creep up and take it off when he isn’t looking.” - -“My dear--one couldn’t. Suppose he turned round when one was doing it, -and thought one was putting it _on!_” - -[Illustration: HIS GRACE EXAMINED THE PLACARD, THEN TURNED TO THE -VICAR. “HOW LONG EXACTLY,” HE SAID SLOWLY, “HAVE I BEEN WEARING THIS?”] - -“The vicar must tell him--let’s find the vicar. I think it would come -better from a clergyman, don’t you?” - -“Yes, and he might--well, he couldn’t say much before a clergyman, -could he?” - -“And a vicar is so practised in consolation. I think you’re -right---- But who did it?” - -Flustered, panting, distraught, they hastened off in search of the -vicar. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile, his Grace talked to the vicar’s wife. He was beginning to -think that she was not quite herself. Her manner seemed more than -peculiar. He glanced round. The stalls were still deserted. - -“They haven’t begun to buy much yet, have they?” he said. “I suppose I -must set the example.” - -[Illustration: AT THAT MOMENT, WILLIAM, GINGER AND HENRY EMERGED FROM -BENEATH ONE OF THE STALLS.] - -He wandered over to a stall and bought a pink cushion. Then he looked -around again, his cushion under his arm, his placard still adorning -the back of his coat. The crowd were engaged only in staring at him; -they were fighting to get a glimpse of him; they were following him -about like dogs---- - -“I suppose some of these people must know my name,” he said. “I thought -that speech of mine in the House last week would wake people up----” - -“Er--Oh, yes,” said the vicar’s wife. She blinked and swallowed. -“Er--Oh, yes--indeed, yes--indeed, yes--I quite agree--er--quite!” - -Here the vicar rescued her. - -The vicar had not quite made up his mind whether to be jocular or -condoling. - -“A splendid attendance, isn’t it, your Grace? There’s a little thing -I want to----” The vicar’s wife tactfully glided away. “Of course, -we all understand--you’re not responsible--and, on our honour, we -aren’t--quite an accident--the guilty party, however, shall be found. I -assure you he shall--er--shall be found.” - -“Would you mind,” said his Grace patiently, “telling me of what you are -talking?” - -The vicar drew a deep breath, then took the plunge. - -“There’s a small placard on your back,” he said. “Well, not small--that -is--allow me----” - -His Grace hastily felt behind, secured the placard, tore it off, put on -his tortoise-shell spectacles, and examined it at arm’s length. Then -he turned to the vicar, who was mopping his brow. The committee were -trembling in the background. One of them--Miss Spence by name--had -already succumbed to a nervous breakdown and had had to go home. -Another was having hysterics in the tent. - -“How long exactly,” asked his Grace slowly, “have I been wearing this?” - -The vicar smiled mirthlessly, and put up a hand nervously as if to -loosen his collar. - -“Er--quite a matter of minutes--ahem--of minutes one might say, your -Grace, since--ah--ahem--since the opening, one might almost put it----” - -“Then,” said his Grace, “why the devil didn’t you tell me before?” - -The vicar put up his hand and coughed reproachfully. - -At this moment William, Ginger and Henry emerged from beneath one of -the stalls, in whose butter-muslined shelter they had been preparing -themselves, and awaiting the most dramatic moment to appear. - -They all wore “sandwiches” made from sheets of cardboard and joined -over their shoulders by string. - - William bore - before him-- - - +---------+ - | MOSSES | - | TREEKLE | - | TOFFY | - | IS THE | - | BEST | - +---------+ - - --and behind - him - - +------------+ - | GET | - | YOUR BULLS | - | EYES | - | AT | - | MOSSES | - +------------+ - - Ginger bore - before him-- - - +----------+ - | YOU WILL | - | LIKE | - | MOSSES | - | MUNKY | - | NUTS | - +----------+ - - --and behind - him - - +---------+ - | MOSSES | - | TAKES | - | AN | - | INTREST | - +---------+ - - Henry bore - before him-- - - +--------------+ - | GO TO MOSSES | - | FOR | - | FRUTY | - | BITS | - +--------------+ - - --and behind - him - - +---------+ - | MOSSES | - | MAKES | - | HAPOTHS | - +---------+ - -Solemnly, with expressionless faces and eyes fixed in front of them, -they paraded through the crowd. His Grace, who had taken off his -spectacles, put them on again. His Grace was a good judge of faces. - -“Secure that first boy,” he said. - -The vicar, nothing loth, secured William by the collar and brought him -before his Grace. His Grace held out his placard. - -“Did you--er--attach this to my coat?” he asked sternly. - -William shook off the vicar’s hand. - -“Yes,” he said, as sternly as his Grace. “You see, we wanted people to -go to Mr. Moss’ shop--’cause, you see, Mallards’ is a big company, an’ -he’s not, an’ they’ve got--er--capitols behind them and he’s not--see? -And we wanted to make people go to Moss’, and we thought we’d fix up -notices wot’d _make_ people go to Moss’ like big shops do--an’ we -knew no one’d take any notice of our notices if we jus’ put ’em up -anywhere, but we thought if we fixed one on to someone important wot -everyone’d be lookin’ at all the time--an’ he’s awful kind an’ he takes -an’ _int’rest_ an’ he _cares_ wot you get an’ his cokernut lumps is -better’n anyone’s, an’ he makes ha’p’oths without makin’ a fuss--an’ -he’s awful _worried_, an’ we wanted to help him----” - -“An’ _she’s_ a murderer,” piped Ginger. - -Before his Grace could reply Joan wrenched herself free from her -mother’s restraining hand and flew up to the group. - -“Oh, please _don’t_ do anything to William,” she pleaded. “It was my -fault, too--I’m not a real one, but I’m an ally--till death do us part, -you know.” - -His Grace looked from one to the other. He had been bored almost to -tears by the vicar’s wife and the committee. With a lightening of the -heart he recognised more entertaining company. - -“Well,” he said judicially, “come to the refreshment tent and we’ll -talk it over, over an ice.” - - * * * * * - -The news that his Grace had spent almost the entire afternoon eating -ices with William Brown and those other children, discussing pirates -and Red Indians, and telling them stories of big game hunting, made the -village gasp. - -The further knowledge that he had asked them to walk down to the -station with him, had called at Moss’, tasted cokernut lumps, -pronounced them delicious, bought a pound for each of them, and ordered -a monthly supply, left the village almost paralysed. But everyone went -to Mr. Moss’ to ask for details. Mr. Moss was known as the confectioner -who supplied the Duke of Ashbridge with cokernut lumps. Mallards’ shop -was let to a baker’s the next month, and the red-haired girl said that -_she_ wasn’t sorry--of all the dead-and-alive holes to work in this -place was the deadest. - -It was Miss Spence who voiced the prevailing sentiment about William. -She did not say it out of affection for William. She had no affection -for William. - -William chased her cat and her hens, disturbed her rest with his -unearthly songs and whistles, broke her windows with his cricket ball, -and threw stones over the hedge into her garden pond. - -But one day, as she watched William progress along the ditch--William -never walked on the road if he could walk in the ditch--dragging his -toes in the mud, his hands in his pockets, his head poking forward, -his brows frowning, his freckled face stern and determined, his mouth -pucked up to make his devastating whistle, his train of boy followers -behind him, she said slowly: “There’s something _about_ that boy----” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -WILLIAM AND THE BLACK CAT - - -Bunker, the old black cat, had been an inhabitant of William’s home -ever since he could remember. Bunker officially belonged to Ethel, -William’s sister, but he bestowed his presence impartially on every -family in the neighbourhood. He frequently haunted the next door -garden, where lived another black cat, a petted darling named Luke, -belonging to Miss Amelia Blake. - -William treated all cats with supreme contempt. Towards his own -family’s cat he unbent occasionally so far as to throw twigs at it or -experiment upon it with pots of coloured paints, but he prided himself -upon despising cats, and considered that their only use in the world -was to give exercise and pleasure to his beloved mongrel, Jumble. - -When William lay in bed and Miss Amelia Blake’s tender accents rose -nightly to his ears from the next garden, “Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, -Luk-ee-ee-_ee!_” he would frown scornfully. - -“Huh! All for an ole _cat!_ Fancy _knowin’_ ’em.” - -His boast was that he did not know one cat from another. - -Bunker was very old and very mangy. He employed habitually an -ear-splitting and horrible yell, long drawn out and increasing in -volume as it neared its nightmare climax--a yell which William loved to -imitate. - -“Yah-ah-ah-ah-ah-Ah-AH!” - -Mr. Brown remarked many times that that cat and that boy would drive -him to drink between them, but at least that boy slept at nights. It -was decided one morning, when Bunker had spent a whole night in the -garden without once relaxing the efforts of his vocal chords, that -Bunker should leave this unsympathetic world for some sphere where, -one hoped, his voice could be better appreciated, or, at any rate, -submitted to some tuning process. - -“Well, he goes, or I go,” said Mr. Brown. “One or other of us must be -destroyed. The world can’t hold us both. You can take your choice.” - -Thus Bunker’s fate was sealed. - -Ethel, who had hardly looked at Bunker for months without disgust, -began, now that his dissolution was imminent, to dwell upon his -engaging kittenhood, to see him in her mind’s eye as a black ball with -a blue ribbon around his neck, and to experience all the feelings -that one ought to experience when one’s beloved pet is torn from one -by Death. She would even have fondled him if he hadn’t been so mangy. -When his hideous voice upraised itself she would murmur, “My darling -Bunker.” And only a week ago she had murmured, “Why we _keep_ that cat, -I can’t think.” - -One afternoon when Ethel was at the tennis club, Mrs. Brown approached -William mysteriously. - -“William, dear, I think it would be so kind of you to take Bunker -to Gorton’s now while Ethel is out. I’ve told Mr. Gorton and he’s -expecting him, and it would be much nicer for Ethel just to hear that -it was all over.” - -Nothing loth to help in Bunker’s destruction, William took the covered -basket from the pantry and went into the garden, caught a glimpse of -black fur beyond the summer-house, crept up behind it, grabbed it with -a triumphant “Would you?” and clapped it into the basket. - - * * * * * - -Gorton’s was a wonderland to William--dogs in cages, cats in cages, -guinea-pigs in cages, rabbits in cages, white rats in cages, tortoises -in cages, gold-fish in bowls. - -Once William had been thrilled to see a monkey there. William had stood -outside the shop for a whole morning watching it and making encouraging -conciliatory noises to it which it answered by an occasional jabber -that delighted William’s very soul. William was glad of an errand that -gave him an excuse for wandering round the fascinations of the shop. -He handed his basket to Mr. Gorton, and began his tour of inspection. -He spent half an hour in front of the cage of a parrot, who screamed -repeatedly, “Go--_away_, you ass, go _away!_” - -William would never have tired of the joy of listening to this, but, -discovering that it was almost tea-time, he reluctantly took up his -empty basket and returned. - -When he entered the dining-room, Mrs. Brown was speaking to Ethel. - -“Ethel, darling, William very kindly took dear Bunker to Mr. Gorton’s -this afternoon. We wanted you to be spared the pain of knowing till it -was over, but now it’s over and Bunker didn’t suffer at all, you know, -darling, and----” - -At that moment there arose from the garden the familiar hair-raising, -ear-splitting sound. “Yah-ah-ah-ah-AH.” - -Ethel burst into tears. - -“It’s Bunker’s ghost,” she said, “Oh, it’s his ghost.” - -But it wasn’t Bunker’s ghost, for Bunker’s solid, earthly, mangy form -appeared at that very moment upon the window-sill. - -William’s heart stood still. In the sudden silence that greeted -the apparition of the earthly body of Bunker, his mind grasped the -important fact that he must have taken the wrong cat, and that the less -he said about it the better. - -“William,” said Mrs. Brown reproachfully, “you might have done a little -thing like that for your sister.” - -“I thought----” said William feebly, “I mean, I meant----” - -“Well, you must do it after tea,” said Mrs. Brown firmly; “it isn’t -kind of you to cause your sister all this unnecessary suffering just -because you’re too lazy to walk down to Gorton’s.” - -His sister, who was finding it difficult to whip up a loving sorrow -for Bunker, while Bunker, mangy and alive, stared at her through the -window, said nothing and William muttered: “All right--after tea--I’ll -go after tea.” - -He went after tea. He handed the basket to Mr. Gorton with an -unblushing: “There was two really to be done--here’s the other.” - -He stood oppressed by the thought of his crime, and waited the return -of his basket. He had even lost interest in Mr. Gorton’s wonderland. -When the parrot screamed, “Go _away_, you ass, go _away_,” he replied -huffily, “Go away yourself.” - -As he lay in bed that night, he wondered vaguely whose cat he had -consigned to an untimely death. - -He soon knew. - -“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-_ee_. Where are you, darling? -Luky?--Luky? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-_ee?_ What’s happened -to you, Luky? Where are you, darling? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, -Luk-ee-ee-ee-_ee_.” - -It seemed to William to go on all night. - - * * * * * - -William’s excursions in the character of robber chief, outlaw, or Red -Indian, took him many miles outside the radius of his own village. -Three days after the day of his ill-omened mistake he was passing a -wayside cottage (in the character of a famous detective on the track -of crime), when he noticed a large black cat sitting upon the doorstep -washing its face. There was something familiar about that cat. William -stopped. It wasn’t Bunker, but was it---- - -“Luky,” said William in a hoarse persuasive whisper. - -The large black cat rose purring and came down the walk to William. - -“Luky,” said William again. - -The large black cat rubbed itself fondly against William’s boots. - -A woman came out of the cottage smiling. - -“You admirin’ my pussy, little boy?” - -In ordinary circumstances, William would have resented most bitterly -this mode of address and would have passed on with a silent glance of -contempt. But from William’s heart the load of murder had been lifted. -He almost smiled. - -“Umph!” he said. - -“He _is_ a nice pussy, isn’t he?” went on Luky’s new owner. “I bought -him at Gorton’s, three days ago. He was just what I wanted--a nice -full-grown cat. Kittens are so destructive. He’s called Twinkie. -Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie,” she murmured fondly bending down to stroke -him, her voice rising affectionately in the scale at each repetition of -his name. - -Luky rubbed himself purring against her boots. - -“There!” she said proudly, “don’t the dear dumb creature know its new -mistress.... There then, darling. You come in an’ see the beauty lap up -its milk some time, little boy, and I’ll give you a gingerbread. I like -little boys to be fond of animals--especially cats. Some nasty boys -throw sticks and things at them, but I’m quite sure you wouldn’t, would -you?” - -William muttered something inaudible and set off down the road, his -heart torn between relief at knowing himself guiltless of the crime -of murder and indignant shame at being accused of an affection for -cats--_cats!_ But he was horrified at the duplicity of Mr. Gorton, and -decided to confront him with it at once. He hastened to the cage-hung -shop and, spending only ten minutes in front of the box of grass -snakes, entered the cool, dark depths where Mr. Gorton, in his shirt -sleeves, was chewing tobacco. - -Mr. Gorton was a large, burly man with a fat, good-natured-looking -face, and a gentle manner. But Mr. Gorton obeyed the Scriptures in -combining with his dove-like gentleness a serpent-like cunning. - -“Now look ’ere, young gent,” he said, when William had laid his -accusation before him. “You say I sold that there hanimal. Now wot you -wanted was to be rid of that hanimal, didn’t you? Well, you’re rid -of it, haren’t you? So wot’ve you got to grumble at? See? ’As that -there hanimal come back to trouble you? _No._ I’m as good a judge of -a cat’s character, I am, as hanyone. I knowed that there cat soon’s -I seed ’im. I says, ‘There’s a hanimal as will curl up anywheres you -like ter put ’im an’ so long’s ’e’s got ’is cushion an’ ’is saucer o’ -milk regular, ’e won’t ’anker after nuffin’ else. ’E won’t go no long -torchurous road journeys tryin’ to find old ’omes. Not ’e. ’E’ll rub -’isself against hanyone wot’ll say ‘Puss, puss.’ ’Sides which it’s -agin’ my feelings as a ’umane man to put to death a young an’ ’ealthy -hanimal.” - -William stared at him. - -“Now the second one you brought, well, ’e was ripe fer death, all -right, an’ it’s a pleasure an’ kindness to do it in those circs. ’Sides -which,” Mr. Gorton went on as another argument occurred to him, “wot -proof ’ave you that this ’ere hanimal of Miss Cliff’s is the same -hanimal wot you brought to me Saturday? They’re both black cats--no -marks on ’em. Well, there must be ’undreds of black cats same as -that--thahsands--_millions_--just _think_ of ’em--all hover the world. -Well, jus’ you prove that these two hanimals is identical.” - -William, having for once in his life met his match in eloquence, moved -away despondently. - -“All right,” he said, “I only asked.” He went to the parrot who was -still there, and who greeted him with an ironical laugh and a cry of: -“My _word_--what a nut! Oh, my _word!_” - -William’s spirits rose. - -“How much is the parrot?” he said. - -“Five pounds,” said Mr. Gorton. - -William’s spirits sank again. - -“Snakes one and six--and--and, see here, I’ll _give_ you a baby -tortoise jus’ to stop you worrying about that hanimal.” - -William walked home proudly carrying his baby tortoise in both hands. - -Miss Amelia Blake was in the drawing-room. She was speaking tearfully -to his mother. “And I leave his saucer of milk out every night and I -call him every night, my poor Luky. I can hardly sleep with thinking of -my darling, perhaps hungry and needing me.... William, if you see any -traces of my Luky you’ll let me know, won’t you?” - -And William, oppressed by the weight of his guilty secret, muttered -something inaudible and went to watch the effect of his new pet upon -Jumble. - -That night the plaintive cry arose again to his room. - -“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-_ee!_ Luky, Luky. Where _are_ you, -darling? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee.” - - * * * * * - -William’s conscience, though absolved of the crime of murder, felt -heavy as Miss Amelia Blake called her lost pet mournfully night after -night. - -Now William’s conscience was a curious organ. It needed a great deal -to rouse it. When roused it demanded immediate action. He took one -of his white rats round to Miss Amelia Blake, and Miss Amelia Blake -screamed and got on to the table. He even rose to supreme heights of -self-denial, and offered her his baby tortoise, but she refused it. - -“No, William dear, it’s very kind of you, but what I need is something -I can stroke--and I don’t want anything but my Luky--and I--I don’t -like its expression--it looks as if it might bite. I _couldn’t_ stroke -that!” - -Greatly relieved, William took it back. - -That afternoon, perched on the garden fence, his elbows on his knees, -his chin in his hands, he watched the antics of Jumble round the baby -tortoise. Though William had had the tortoise for three days now, -Jumble still barked at it with unabated fury, and William watched -the two with unabated interest. But William’s thoughts were still -occupied with the Twinkie-Luky problem. The ethics of the case were -difficult. It belonged to Miss Blake, but Miss Cliff had paid for it. -Then suddenly the solution occurred to him--a week each. They should -have it a week each--that would be quite easy to manage. His heart -lightened. He jumped down, put his tortoise into his pocket, called -“Hi, Jumble!”, took a stick, jumped (almost) over the bed in the middle -of the lawn, and went whistling down the road followed by Jumble. - -The covered basket was very old and very shabby, and it did not need -much persuasion on William’s part to induce Mrs. Brown to give it to -him. - -“Jus’ to keep my things in an’ carry ’em about in, mother,” he said -plaintively, “so as I won’t be so untidy. I shan’t be half as untidy if -I have a basket like that to keep my things in an’ carry ’em about in.” - -“All right, dear,” said Mrs. Brown, much pleased. - -She was eternally optimistic about William. - -William spent an entire Saturday morning stalking Luky in the -neighbourhood of Miss Cliff’s garden (Miss Cliff went into the town -to do her shopping on Saturday mornings). Finally he caught him, put -him in the basket, and secretly deposited Luky in Miss Amelia Blake’s -garden. Miss Blake was overjoyed. - -“He’s come back, Mrs. Brown! Mrs. Brown, he’s come back. William, he’s -come back--Luky’s come back.” - -Miss Cliff was distraught. - -“Little boy, you haven’t seen my Twinkie anywhere, have you? My -darling Twinkie, he’s gone. Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie! -Twinkie-ee-_ee!_” - -The next four Saturdays he successfully changed Twinkie-Luky’s place -of abode. On arrival at Miss Cliff’s, Twinkie made immediately for his -favourite cushion and went to sleep. On arrival at Miss Amelia Blake’s -Luky did the same. The owners became almost accustomed to the week’s -mysterious absence. - -“He’s gone away again, Mrs. Brown,” Miss Blake would call over the -fence. “I only hope he’ll come back as he did last time. You haven’t -seen him, have you? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee-_ee!_” - -Then William became bored. At first the glorious consciousness of -duty done and the salving of his sense of guilt had upheld him, but -he began to feel that this could not go on for ever. When all is said -and done, Saturday is Saturday--a golden holiday in a drab procession -of schooldays. William began to think that if he had to spend every -Saturday of his life stalking Twinkie-Luky and conveying him secretly -from one end of the village to the other, he might just as well not -have been born---- - - * * * * * - -He had put Twinkie-Luky in the basket and was setting off with it -down the road. It was very hot and Twinkie-Luky was very heavy and -William was very cross. He had just come to the conclusion that some -other solution must be found to the Twinkie-Luky problem when he heard -the sound of the ’bus that made its slow and noisy progress from the -neighbouring country town to the village in which William lived. - -A ride in the ’bus would save him a long, hot walk with the heavy -basket, and by some miraculous chance he had the requisite penny in his -pocket. And anyhow, he was sick of the whole thing. He hailed the ’bus -by swinging the basket round and putting out his tongue at the driver. -The driver put his out in return, and the ’bus stopped. William, -holding the basket, entered. The ’bus was very full, but there was one -empty seat. William had taken this seat before he realised with horror -that on one side of him sat Miss Amelia Blake and on the other Miss -Cliff. - -The ’bus had started again, and it was too late to get out. He went -rather pale, pretended not to see them, stared in front of him with a -set, stern expression on his face, and clasped the basket containing -Twinkie-Luky tightly to his bosom. Miss Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff did -not “know” each other. But they both knew William. - -“Good morning, little boy,” said Miss Cliff. - -“Mornin’,” muttered William, still staring straight in front of him. - -“Good morning, William,” said Miss Blake. - -“Mornin’,” muttered William. - -“Have you been doing some shopping for your mother?” said Miss Blake -brightly. - -“Umph!” said William, his eyes still fixed desperately on the opposite -window, the basket still clutched tightly to his breast. - -“You must call and see my pussy again soon, little boy,” said Miss -Cliff. - -A shadow passed over Miss Amelia Blake’s face. - -“You haven’t seen Luky, have you, William? He’s been away all this -week.” - -[Illustration: “LUKY!” CRIED MISS BLAKE. - “TWINKIE!” EXCLAIMED MISS CLIFF. - “HE’S MINE!” - “HE ISN’T!”] - -William felt a spasmodic movement in the basket at the sound of the -name. He moistened his lips and shook his head. - -Miss Amelia Blake was looking with interest at his basket. It -happened that she wanted a new shopping basket, and had called at the -basket-shop about one that morning. - -[Illustration: A BLACK HEAD AROSE FROM THE BASKET AND PURRED.] - -“May I look at your basket, William?” she said kindly. “I like these -covered baskets for shopping. The things can’t tumble out. On the other -hand, of course, you can’t get so many things in. Are the fastenings -firm?” - -Her hand was outstretched innocently towards the fastenings. A cold -perspiration broke out over William. He put his hands desperately over -the fastenings. - -“I wun’t--I wun’t touch ’em,” he said hoarsely. “It’s--it’s a bit full. -I wun’t like all the things to come tumblin’ out here.” - -Miss Amelia Blake smiled agreement and Miss Cliff beamed on him from -the other side. William was wishing that the earth would open and -swallow up Miss Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff and Twinkie-Luky and -himself. - -At last the ’bus stopped at the cross-road and they all got out. -William’s relief was indescribable. _That_ was over. And it was the -last time _he’d_ ever change their ole cats for ’em. He turned to go -down the road, but Miss Amelia Blake put her hand on his arm. - -“I’ll hold it very carefully, William,” she pleaded. “I won’t let -anything tumble out, but I _do_ want to see if the fastenings of these -baskets are secure.” - -Miss Cliff stood by smiling with interested curiosity. William mutely -abandoned himself to Fate. Miss Amelia Blake opened one fastening, the -flap turned back, and a black-whiskered head arose and looked around -with a purr. - -“Luky!” - -“Twinkie!” - -“He’s mine.” - -“I bought him at Mr. Gorton’s.” - -“How _can_ you say he’s yours?” - -“He’s mine,” cried Miss Cliff. - -“He isn’t,” retorted Miss Blake. - -“He knows me--_Twinkie!_” - -“_Luky!_” - -Both made a grab at Twinkie-Luky, but Twinkie-Luky escaped both and -flew like a dart down the road in the direction of Mr. Gorton’s. Like -all real gentlemen, Twinkie-Luky preferred death to a scene. William -was no coward, but even a braver man than William would have fled. -William’s fleeing figure was already half-way down the road in which -his home lay. - -At the cross-roads Miss Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff clung to each other -hysterically and sent forth shrill, discordant cries after the fleeing -Twinkie-Luky. - -“Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twink-ee-ee-ee-ee-_ee!_” - -“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee-_ee!_” - -And William ran as if all the cats in the world were at his heels. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -WILLIAM THE SHOWMAN - - -William and his friends, known to themselves as the Outlaws, were in -their usual state of insolvency. All entreaties had failed to melt -the heart of Mr. Beezum, the keeper of the general stores in the -village, who sold marbles, along with such goods as hams and shoes and -vegetables. - -William and his friends wanted marbles--simply a few dozen of ordinary -glass marbles which could be bought for a few pence. But Mr. Beezum -refused to overlook the small matter of the few pence. He refused to -give the Outlaws credit. - -“My terms to you, young gents, is cash down, an’ well you know it,” he -said firmly. - -“If you,” said William generously, “let us have the marbles now we’ll -give you a halfpenny extra Saturday.” - -“You said that once before, young gent, if I remember right,” said Mr. -Beezum, adjusting his capacious apron and turning up his shirt-sleeves -preparatory to sweeping out his shop. - -William was indignant at the suggestion. - -“Well,” he said, “_well_--you talk ’s if that was _my_ fault--’s if -I knew my people was going to decide sudden not to give me any money -that week _simply_ because one of their cucumber frames got broke by my -ball. An’ I brought back the things wot you’d let me have. I brought -the trumpet back _an_ the rock----” - -“Yes--the trumpet all broke an’ the rock all bit,” said Mr. Beezum. -“No--cash down is my terms, an’ I sticks to ’em--if _you_ please, young -gents.” - -He began his sweeping operations with great energy, and the Outlaws -found themselves precipitated into the street by the end of his long -broom. - -“Mean,” commented William, rising again to the perpendicular. “Jus’ -_mean!_ I’ve a good mind not to buy ’em there at all.” - -“He’s the only shop that sells ’em,” remarked Ginger. - -“An’ we’ve got no money to buy ’em anywhere, anyway,” said Henry. - -“S’pose we couldn’t wait for ’em till Saturday?” suggested Douglas -tentatively. - -He was promptly crushed by the Outlaws. - -“_Wait!_” said Ginger. “_Wait!_ Wot’s the use of waitin’? We may -be doing something else on Saturday. We mayn’t _want_ to play with -marbles--all that long time off.” - -“’F only you’d _save_ your money,” said William severely, “’stead of -spendin’ it the day you get it we shun’t be like this--no marbles, an’ -swep’ out of his shop an’ nothing to play at.” - -This was felt to be unfair. - -“Well, I like _that_--I like _that_,” said Ginger. “And wot about -_you_--wot about _you?_” - -“Well, if I was the only one, you could have lent me money an’ we could -get marbles with it--if _you’d_ not spent all your money we could be -buyin’ marbles now ’stead of standin’ swep’ out of his shop.” - -Ginger thought over this, aware that there was usually some fallacy in -William’s arguments if only one could lay one’s hand on it. - -Henry turned away. - -“Oh, come along,” he said impatiently. “It’s no good staring in at his -ole butter an’ cheese. Let’s think of something else to do.” - -“Anyway, it’s nasty cheese,” said Douglas comfortingly. “My mother -said it was--so p’raps it’s a good thing we’ve been saved buyin’ his -marbles.” - -“Something else to do?” said William. “We want to play marbles, don’t -we? Wot’s the good of thinkin’ of other things when we want to play -marbles?” - -“’S all very well to talk like that,” said Ginger with sudden -inspiration. “An’ we might jus’ as well say that ’f _you’d_ not spent -your money you could have lent us some, an’ that’s just as much sense -as you saying if _we_----” - -“Oh, do shut up talkin’ stuff no one can understand,” said William, -“let’s _get_ some money.” - -“How?” said Ginger, who was nettled. “All right. Get some, an’ we’ll -watch you. You goin’ to _steal_ some or _make_ some. ’F you’re clever -enough to steal some _or_ make some I’ll be very glad to join with it.” - -“Yes, well, if I stealed some or made some you just _wouldn’t_ join -with it,” said William crushingly. - -“Let’s sell something,” said Henry. - -“We’ve got nothing anyone’d buy,” said Ginger. - -“Let’s sell Jumble.” - -“Jumble’s _mine_. You can jus’ sell your own dogs,” said William, -sternly. - -“We’ve not got any.” - -“Well, then, sell ’em.” - -“That’s sense, isn’t it?” said Ginger. “Jus’ kindly tell us how to sell -dogs we’ve not got---- Jus’----” - -But William was suddenly tired of this type of verbal warfare. - -“Let’s do something--let’s have a show.” - -“Wot of?” said Ginger without enthusiasm. “We’ve got nothing to show, -an’ who’ll pay us money to look at nothing. Jus’ tell us that.” - -“We’ll get something to show--_I know_,” he said suddenly, “a c’lection -of insecks. Anyone’d pay to see an exhibition of a c’lection of -insecks, wun’t they? I don’t s’pose there are many c’lections of -insecks, anyway. It’d be _interestin’_. Everyone’s interested in -_insecks_.” - -For a minute the Outlaws wavered. - -“Who’d c’lect ’em?” said Henry, dubiously. - -“I would,” said William with an air of stern purpose. - - * * * * * - -The Collection of Insects was almost complete. The show was to be held -that afternoon. - -The audience had been ordered to attend and bring their halfpennies. -The audience had agreed, but had reserved to itself the right not to -contribute the halfpennies if the exhibition was not considered worth -it. - -“Well,” was William’s bitter comment on hearing this, “I shouldn’t have -thought there was so many _mean_ people in the world.” - -He had taken a great deal of trouble with his collection. He had that -very morning been driven out of Miss Euphemia Barney’s garden by Miss -Euphemia herself, though he had only entered in pursuit of a yellow -butterfly that he felt was indispensable to the collection. - -Miss Euphemia Barney was the local poetess and the leader of the -intellectual life of the village. Miss Euphemia Barney was the -President of the Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought. The -members of the society discussed Higher Thought in all its branches -once every fortnight. At the end of the discussion Miss Euphemia Barney -would read her poems. - -Euphemia Barney’s poems had never been published. Miss Euphemia said -that in these days of worldliness and money-worship she would set an -example of unworldliness and scorn for money. “I think it best,” she -would say, “that I should not publish.” - -As a matter of fact she had the authority of several publishers for -the statement. She disliked William more than anyone else she had -ever known--and she said that she knew just what sort of a woman Miss -Fairlow was as soon as she heard that Miss Fairlow had “taken to” -William. - -Miss Fairlow had only recently come to live at the village. Miss -Fairlow was a real, live, worldly, money-worshipping author who -published a book every year and made a lot of money out of it. When -she came to live in the village Miss Euphemia Barney was prepared to -patronise her in spite of this fact, and even asked her to join the -Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought. - -But, to the surprise of Miss Euphemia, Miss Fairlow refused. - -Miss Euphemia pitied her as she would have pitied anyone who -had refused the golden chance of belonging to the Society for -the Encouragement of Higher Thought under her--Miss Euphemia -Barney’s--presidency, but, as she said to the Society, “her -influence would not have tended to the unworldliness and purity that -distinguishes us from so many other societies and bodies--it is all for -the best.” - -To her most intimate friends she said that Miss Fairlow had refused the -offer of membership in order to mask her complete ignorance of Higher -Thought. “Ignorant, my dear,” she said. “Ignorant--like all these -popular writers.” - -So the Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought pursued its pure -and unworldly path, and Miss Fairlow only laughed at it from a distance. - - * * * * * - -Chased ignominiously from Miss Euphemia’s garden, William went along to -Miss Fairlow’s. He could see her over the hedge mowing the lawn. - -“Hello,” he said. - -“Hallo, William,” she replied. - -“Got any insects there?” said William. - -“Heaps. Come in and see.” - -William came in with a business-like air--his large cardboard box under -his arm--and began to hunt among her garden plants. - -“Would you call a tortoise an insect?” he said suddenly. - -“If I wanted to,” she replied. - -“Well, I’m going to,” said William firmly. “And I’m going to call a -white rat an insect.” - -“I don’t see why you shouldn’t--it might belong to a special branch of -the insect world, a very special branch. You ought to give it a very -special name.” - -The idea appealed to William. - -“All right. What name?” - -Miss Fairlow rested against the handle of her lawn mower in an attitude -of profound meditation. - -“We must consider that--something nice and long.” - -“Omshafu,” said William suddenly, after a moment’s thought. “It just -came,” he went on modestly, “just came into my head.” - -“It’s a beautiful word,” said Miss Fairlow. “I don’t think you could -have a better one--an insect of the Omshafu branch.” - -“I think I’ll call its name Omshafu, too,” said William, picking a -furry caterpillar off a leaf. - -“Yes,” said Miss Fairlow, “it seems a pity not to use a word like that -as much as you can now you’ve thought of it.” - -William put a ladybird in on top of the caterpillar. - -“It’s going to be jolly fine,” he said optimistically. - -“What?” said Miss Fairlow. - -“Oh, jus’ a c’lection of insects I’m doing,” said William. - -Later in the morning, William brought Omshafu over to visit Miss -Fairlow. It escaped, and Miss Fairlow pursued it up her front stairs -and down her back ones, and finally captured it. Omshafu rewarded her -by biting her finger. William was apologetic. - -“I daresay it just didn’t like the look of me,” said Miss Fairlow sadly. - -“Oh, no,” William hastened to reassure her; “it’s bit heaps of people -this year--it bites people it likes. I don’t see why it _shun’t_ be an -insect, anyway, do you?” - - * * * * * - -William’s Collection of Insects was ready for the afternoon’s show. The -exhibits were arranged in small cardboard boxes, covered mostly with -paper, and these were all packed into a large cardboard box. - -The only difficulty was that he could not think where to conceal it -from curious or disapproving eyes till after lunch. The garden, he -felt, was not safe--cats might upset it, and once upset in the garden -the insects would be able to return to their native haunts too quickly. -His mother would not allow him to keep them indoors. She would find -them and expel them wherever he put them. - -Unless--William had a brilliant idea--he hid them under the -drawing-room sofa. The drawing-room sofa had a cretonne cover with a -frill that reached to the floor, and he had used this place before as a -temporary receptacle for secret treasures. No one would look under it, -or think of his putting anything there. He put the tortoise into a box -with a lid, and tied Omshafu up firmly with string in his box, and put -them in the large cardboard box with the insects. Then he put the large -cardboard box under the sofa and went into lunch with a mind freed from -anxiety. - -The exhibition was not to begin till three, so William wandered out to -find Jumble. He found him in the ditch, threw sticks for him, brushed -him severely with an old boot brush that he kept in the outhouse for -the rare occasions of Jumble’s toilet, and finally tied round his neck -the old, raggy and almost colourless pink ribbon that was his gala -attire. Then he came to the drawing-room for the exhibits. There he -received his first shock. - -On the drawing-room sofa sat Miss Euphemia Barney, wearing her very -highest thought expression. She surveyed William from head to foot -silently with a look of slight disgust, then turned away her head with -a shudder. William sought his mother. - -“Wot’s she _doin’_ in our house?” he demanded sternly. - -“I’ve lent the drawing-room for a meeting of the Higher Thought, -darling,” said Mrs. Brown reverently, “because she has the painters in -her own drawing-room. You mustn’t interrupt.” - -Mrs. Brown was not a Higher Thinker, but she cherished a deep respect -for them. - -“But----” began William indignantly, then stopped. He thought, upon -deliberation, that it was better not to betray his hiding-place. - -He went back to the drawing-room determined to walk boldly up to the -sofa and drag out the exhibits from under the very skirts of Miss -Euphemia Barney. But two more Higher Thinkers were now established upon -the sofa, one on each side of the President, and Higher Thinkers were -pouring into the room. William’s courage failed him. He sat down upon a -chair by the door scowling, his eyes fixed upon Miss Euphemia’s skirts. - -The members looked at him with lofty disapproval. The gathering was -complete. The meeting was about to begin. Miss Euphemia Barney was to -speak on the Commoner Complexes. But first she turned upon William, -who sat with his eyes fixed forlornly on the hem of her skirts, a -devastating glare. - -“Do you want anything, little boy?” she said. - -Before William had time to tell her what he wanted the maid threw open -the door and announced Miss Fairlow. The Higher Thinkers gasped. Miss -Fairlow looked round as Daniel must have looked round at his lions. - -“I came----” she said. “Oh, dear!” - -Miss Euphemia waved her to a seat. It occurred to her that here was a -heaven-sent opportunity of impressing Miss Fairlow with a real respect -for Higher Thought. Miss Fairlow must learn how much higher they were -in thought than she could ever be. It would be a great triumph to -enlist Miss Fairlow as a humble member and searcher after truth under -her--Miss Euphemia’s--leadership. - -“You came to see Mrs. Brown, of course,” she said kindly, “and the -maid showed you in here thinking you were--ahem--one of us. Mrs. -Brown has kindly lent us her drawing-room for a meeting. Pray don’t -apologise--perhaps you would like to listen to us for a short time. We -were about to discuss the Commoner Complexes. I will begin by reading a -little poem. I spent most of this morning putting the final touches to -it,” she ended proudly. - -“I spent most of this morning on the pursuit of Omshafu,” said Miss -Fairlow gravely. - -There was a moment’s tense silence. Omshafu? The Higher Thinkers sent -glances of desperate appeal to their president. Would she allow them to -be humiliated by this upstart? - -“Ah, Omshafu!” said Miss Euphemia slowly. “Of course it--it _is_ very -interesting.” - -The Higher Thinkers gave a sigh of relief. - -“I could hardly tear myself away this morning,” replied Miss Fairlow -pleasantly. “It was so engrossing.” - -Engrossing! Some sort of Eastern philosophy, of course. Again desperate -glances were turned upon the embodiment of Higher Thought. Again she -rose to the occasion. - -“I felt just the same about it when I--er--when I,” she risked the -expression, “took it up.” - -She felt that this implied that she had known about Omshafu long before -Miss Fairlow, and this conveyed a delicate snub. - -Miss Fairlow’s glance rested momentarily on her bandaged finger. - -[Illustration: “THERE’S OMSHAFU HIMSELF,” SAID MISS FAIRLOW IN HER -CLEAR VOICE. “I CAN SEE HIS DEAR LITTLE PINK NOSE PEEPING OUT.”] - -“It goes very deep,” she murmured. - -Miss Barney was gaining confidence. - -“There I disagree with you,” she said firmly. “I think its appeal is -entirely superficial.” - -William had brightened into attention at the first mention of Omshafu, -but finding the conversation beyond him, had relapsed into a gloomy -stare. Now his state became suddenly fixed; his mouth opened with -horror. - -[Illustration: MISS EUPHEMIA JUMPED UP WITH A PIERCING SCREAM. -“SOMETHING STUNG ME!” SHE CRIED. “IT’S BEES COMING FROM UNDER THE -SOFA!”] - -The exhibits were escaping from beneath the hem of Miss Euphemia’s -gown. A cockroach was making a slow and stately progress into the -middle of the room, several ants were laboriously climbing up Miss -Euphemia’s dress. So far no one else had noticed. William gazed in -frozen horror. - -“I hear that Omshafu has bitten most people this year,” said Miss -Fairlow demurely. - -Miss Euphemia pursued her lips disapprovingly. She was growing reckless -with success. “I think there’s something dangerous in it,” she said. - -“You mean its teeth?” said Miss Fairlow brightly. - -There was a moment’s tense silence. A horrible suspicion occurred to -Miss Euphemia that she was being trifled with. The Higher Thinkers -looked helplessly first at her and then at Miss Fairlow. Then Miss -Euphemia rose from the sofa with a piercing scream. - -“Something’s stung me! It’s bees--bees coming from under the sofa!” - -Simultaneously the Treasurer jumped upon a small occasional table. - -“Black beetles!” she screamed. “Help!” - -Above the babel rose Miss Fairlow’s clear voice. - -“And there’s Omshafu himself. I can see his dear little pink nose -peeping out.” - -Babel ceased for one second while the Society for the Encouragement of -Higher Thought looked at Omshafu. Then it arose with redoubled violence. - - * * * * * - -William departed with his exhibits. He had recaptured most of them. -Omshafu had been taken from the ample silk sash of the Treasurer in a -fold of which he had taken refuge. William had left his mother and Miss -Fairlow pouring water on the hysterical Treasurer. - -William was late as it was. Behind him trotted Jumble, the chewed-up -remains of his gala attire hanging from his mouth. - -“William.” - -Miss Fairlow was just behind, carrying a cardboard box. - -“Oh, William,” she said, “I was really bringing this to you when they -showed me into the wrong room and I couldn’t resist having a game with -them. I found it this morning after you’d gone--in an old drawer I was -tidying, and I thought you might like it.” - -William opened it. It was a case of butterflies--butterflies of every -kind, all neatly labelled. - -“I think it used to belong to my brother,” said Miss Fairlow -carelessly. “Would you like it?” - -“Oh, _crumbs!_” gasped William. “_Thanks._” - -“And I’ve had the loveliest time this afternoon that I’ve had for -ages,” said Miss Fairlow dreamily. “Thank you so much.” - -William hastened to the old barn in which the Exhibition was to be -held. Ginger, Douglas and Henry and the audience were already there. - -“Well, you’re early, aren’t you?” said Douglas sarcastically. - -“_D’you think_,” said William sternly, “that anyone wot has had all -the hard work I’ve had getting together this c’lection could be here -_earlier?_” - -The half-dozen little boys who formed the audience grasped their -halfpennies firmly and looked at William suspiciously. - -“They won’t give up their halfpennies,” said Henry in deep disgust. - -“No,” said the audience, “not till we’ve seen if it’s _worth_ a -halfpenny.” - -William assumed his best showman air. - -“This, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, ignoring the fact that his -audience consisted entirely of males, “is the only tortoise like this -in the world.” - -“Seen a tortoise.” “Got a tortoise at home,” said his audience -unimpressed. - -“_Perhaps_,” said William crushingly. “But have you ever seen a -tortoise with white stripes like wot this one has?” - -“No, but I could if I got an ole tin of paint and striped our one.” - -William passed on to the next box. - -He took out Omshafu. - -“_This_,” he said, “is the only rat inseck of the speeshees of -Omshafu----” - -“If you think,” said the audience, “that we’re goin’ to pay a halfpenny -to see that ole rat wot we’ve seen hundreds of times before, and wot’s -bit us, too--well, we’re _not_.” - -Despair began to settle down upon Ginger’s face. - -William passed on to the third box. - -“Here, ladies and gentlemen,” he said impressively, “is thirty sep’rate -_an’_ distinct speeshees of insecks. I only ask you to look at them. -I----” - -“They’re jus’ the same sort of insecks as crawl about our garden at -home,” said the audience coldly. - -“But have you ever seen ’em c’lected _together_ before?” said William -earnestly. “Have you ever seen ’em _c’lected?_ Think of the trouble -an’ time wot I took c’lecting ’em. Why, the time alone I took’s worth -more’n a halfpenny. I should _think_ that’s worth a halfpenny. I should -think it’s worth more’n a halfpenny. I should think----” - -“Well, we wun’t,” said the audience. “We’d as soon see ’em crawling -about a garden for nothin’ as crawlin’ about a box for a halfpenny. So -there.” - -Ginger, Douglas and Henry looked at William gloomily. - -“They aren’t _worth_ getting a c’lection for,” said Ginger. - -“They deserve to have their halfpennies _took_ off ’em!” said Douglas. - -But William slowly and majestically brought out his fourth box and -opened it, revealing rows of gorgeous butterflies, then closed it -quickly. - -The audience gasped. - -“When you’ve given in your halfpennies,” said William firmly, “then you -can see this wonderfu’ an’ unique c’lection of twenty sep’rate _an’_ -distinct speeshees of butterflies all c’lected together.” - -Eagerly the halfpennies were given to William. He handed them to -Douglas, triumphantly. “Go an’ buy the marbles, quick,” he said in a -hoarse whisper, “case they want ’em back.” - -Then he turned to his audience, smoothed back his hair, and reassumed -his showman manner. - - * * * * * - -In Mrs. Brown’s drawing-room the members of the Society for the -Encouragement of Higher Thought were recovering from various stages of -hysterics. - -“We shall have to dissolve the society,” said Miss Euphemia Barney. -“She’ll tell everyone. It’s a wicked name for a rat, anyway--almost -blasphemous--I’m sure it comes in the Bible. How was one to know? But -people will never forget it.” - -“We might form ourselves again a little later under a different name,” -suggested the Secretary. - -“People will always remember,” said Miss Euphemia. “They’re so -uncharitable. It’s a most unfortunate occurrence. And,” setting her -lips grimly, “as is the case with most of the unfortunate occurrences -in this village, the direct cause is that terrible boy, William Brown.” - -At that moment the direct cause of most of the unfortunate occurrences -in the village, with his friends around him, his precious box of -butterflies by his side, and happiness in his heart, was just beginning -the hard-won, long-deferred game of marbles. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -WILLIAM’S EXTRA DAY - - -“What’s Leap Year?” asked William. - -“It’s a year that leaps,” said his elder brother, Robert. - -“It’s Leap Year this year,” said William. - -“Who told you?” inquired Robert sarcastically. - -“Well, I don’t see much leapin’ about this year so far,” said William, -trying to rise to equal heights of sarcasm. - -“Oh, go and play Leap Frog,” said Robert scathingly. - -“I don’t believe you _know_,” said William. “I don’t for a minute -b’lieve you know why it’s called Leap Year. You don’t care, either. -S’long as you can sit talkin’ to Miss Flower, you don’t care about -anything else. You’ve not even got any curiosity ’bout Leap Year nor -anything else. I dunno what you find to talk to her about. I bet she -doesn’t know why it’s Leap Year no more than you do. You don’t talk -’bout anything sensible--you an’ Miss Flower. You----” - -Robert’s youthful countenance had flushed a dull red. Miss Flower -was the latest of Robert’s seemingly endless and quickly changing -succession of grand passions. - -“You don’t even talk most of the time,” went on William scornfully, -“’cause I’ve watched you. You sit lookin’--jus’ _lookin’_--at each -other like wot you used to with Miss Crane an’ Miss Blake an’ -Miss--what was she called? An’ it does look soft, let me _tell_ you, -to anyone watchin’ through the window.” - -Robert rose with murder in his eye. - -“Shut _up_ and get _out_!” he roared. - -William shut up and got out. He sighed as he wandered into the garden. -It was like Robert to get into a temper just because somebody asked him -quite politely what Leap Year was. - -Ethel, William’s grown-up sister, was in the drawing-room. - -“Ethel,” said William, “why’s it called Leap Year?” - -“Because of February 29th,” said Ethel. - -“Well,” said William, with an air of patience tried beyond endurance, -“if you think that’s any answer to anyone askin’ you why’s it Leap -Year--if you think that’s an answer that _means_ anythin’ to any ornery -person....” - -“You see, everything leaps on February 29th,” said his sister -callously; “you wait and see.” - -William looked at her in silent scorn for a few moments, then gave vent -to his feelings. - -“Anyone ’d think that anyone ’s old as you an’ Robert would know a -simple thing like that. Jus’ think of you _an’_ Robert _an’_ Miss -Flower not knowing why it’s called Leap Year.” - -“How do you know Miss Flower doesn’t know?” - -“Well, wun’t she have told Robert if she knew? She must have told -Robert everythin’ she knows by this time, talkin’ to him an’ talkin’ to -him like she does. F’ that matter I don’t s’pose Mr. Brooke knows. He’d -have told you ’f he did. He’s always----” - -Ethel groaned. - -“Will you stop talking and go away if I give you a chocolate?” she -said. - -William forgot his grievance. - -“Three,” he stipulated in a quick business-like voice. “Gimme three ’n -I’ll go _right_ away.” - -She gave him three so readily that he regretted not having asked for -six. - -He put two in his mouth, pocketed the third, and went into the -morning-room. - -His father was there reading a newspaper. - -“Father,” said William, “why’s it called Leap Year?” - -“How many times am I to tell you,” said his father, “to shut the door -when you come into a room? There’s an icy blast piercing down my neck -now. Do you want to murder me?” - -“No, father,” said William kindly. He shut the door. - -“Father, why’s it called Leap Year?” - -“Ask your mother,” said his father, without looking up from his paper. - -“She mightn’t know.” - -“Well, ask someone else then. Ask anyone in heaven or earth. BUT DON’T -ASK ME ANYTHING! And shut the door when you go out.” - -William, though as a rule slow to take a hint, went out of the room and -shut the door. - -“_He_ doesn’t know,” he remarked to the hat-rack in the hall. - -He found his mother in the dining-room. She was engaged in her usual -occupation of darning socks. - -“Mother,” said William, “why’s it called Leap Year?” - -“I simply can’t _think_, William,” said Mrs. Brown feelingly, “how do -you get such _dreadful_ holes in your heels?” - -[Illustration] - -“It’s that hard road on the way to school, I ’spect,” said William. -“I’ve gotter walk to school. I ’spect that’s it. I ’spect ’f I didn’t -go to school an’ kept to the fields an’ woods I wun’t gettem like -wot I do. But you an’ father keep sayin’ I’ve gotter go to school. I -wun’t mind not goin’--jus’ to save you trouble. I wun’t mind growin’ -up ign’rant like wot you say I would if I didn’t go to school--jus’ to -save you trouble--I----” - -Mrs. Brown hastily interrupted him. - -“What did you want to know, William?” - -William returned to his quest. - -“Why’s it called Leap Year?” - -“Well,” said Mrs. Brown, “it’s because of February 29th. It’s an extra -day.” - -William thought over this for some time in silence. - -“D’you mean,” he said at last, “that it’s an extra day that doesn’t -count in the ornery year?” - -“Yes, that’s it,” said Mrs. Brown vaguely. “William dear, I wish you -wouldn’t always stand _just_ in my light.” - - * * * * * - -It was February 29th. William was unusually silent during breakfast. In -the relief caused by his silence his air of excitement was unnoticed. - -After breakfast, William went upstairs. He took two small paper parcels -from a drawer and put them into his overcoat pocket. One contained -several small cakes surreptitiously abstracted from the larder, the -other contained William’s “disguise.” William’s “disguise” was a false -beard which had formed part of Robert’s hired costume for the Christmas -theatricals. Robert never knew what had happened to the beard. He had -been charged for it as “missing” by the theatrical costumier. - -William had felt that a “disguise” was a necessity to him. All the -heroes of the romances he read found it necessary in the crises of -their adventurous lives to assume disguises. William felt that you -never knew when a crisis was coming, and that any potential hero of -adventure--such as he knew himself to be--should never allow himself to -be without a “disguise.” So far he had not had need to assume it. But -he had hopes for to-day. It was an extra day. Surely you could do just -what you liked on an extra day. To-day was to be a day of adventure. - -He went downstairs and put on his cap in the hall. - -“You’ll be rather early for school,” said Mrs. Brown. - -William’s unsmiling countenance assumed a look of virtue. - -[Illustration] - -“I don’t mind bein’ early for school,” he said. - -Slowly and decorously he went down the drive and disappeared from sight. - -Mrs. Brown went back to the dining-room where her husband was still -reading the paper. - -“William’s so good to-day,” she said. - -Her husband groaned. - -“Eight-thirty in the morning,” he said, “and she says he’s good to-day! -My dear, he’s not had time to look round yet!” - -William walked down the road with a look of set purpose on his face. -Near the school he met Bertram Roke. Bertram Roke was the good boy of -the school. - -“You’re not goin’ to school to-day, are you?” said William. - -“Course,” said Bertram virtuously. “Aren’t you?” - -“Me?” said William. “Don’t you know what day it is? Don’t you know it’s -an extra day wot doesn’t count in the ornery year. Catch _me_ goin’ to -school on an extra day what doesn’t count in the ornery year.” - -“What are you goin’ to do, then?” said Bertram, taken aback. - -“I’m goin’ to have adventures.” - -“You’ll--you’ll miss geography,” said Bertram. - -“Geography!” said the hero of adventures scornfully. - -Leaving Bertram gaping over the school wall, his Latin grammar under -one arm and his geography book under the other, William walked up the -hill and into the wood in search of adventures. - - * * * * * - -It was most certainly a gipsy encampment. There was a pot boiling on a -camp fire and a crowd of ragged children playing around. Three caravans -stood on the broad cart track that led through the wood. - -William watched the children wistfully from a distance. More than -anything on earth at that moment William longed to be a gipsy. He -approached the children. All of them fled behind the caravans except -one--a very dirty boy in a ragged green jersey and ragged knickers and -bare legs. He squared his fists and knocked William down. William -jumped up and knocked the boy down. The boy knocked William down again, -but overbalanced with the effort. They sat on the ground and looked at -each other. - -“Wot’s yer nyme?” said the boy. - -“William. Wot’s yours?” - -“Helbert. Wot yer doin’ ’ere?” - -“Lookin’ for adventures,” said William. “It’s an extra day, you know. -I want to-day to be quite different from an ornery day. I want some -adventures; I’d like to be a gipsy, too,” he ended, wistfully. - -Helbert merely stared at him. - -“Would they take me?” went on William, nodding his head in the -direction of the caravans. “I’d soon learn to be a gipsy. I’d do all -they told me. I’ve always wanted to be a gipsy--next to a Red Indian -and a pirate, and there don’t seem to be any Red Indians or pirates in -this country.” - -Helbert once more merely stared at him. William’s hopes sank. - -“I’ve not got any gipsy clothes,” he said, “but p’raps they’d give me -some.” - -Enviously William looked at Helbert’s ragged jersey and knickers -and bare feet. Enviously Helbert looked at William’s suit. Suddenly -Helbert’s heavy face lightened. He pointed to William’s suit. - -“Swop,” he said, succinctly. - -“Don’t you really mind?” said William, humbly and gratefully. - -The exchange was effected behind a bush. William carefully transferred -his packet of provisions and his disguise from his pocket to the pocket -of Helbert’s ragged knickers. Then, while Helbert was still donning -waistcoat and coat, William swaggered into the open space round the -fire. His heart was full to bursting. He was a gipsy of the gipsies. - -“’Ello,” he called, in swaggering friendly greeting to the gipsy -children. But his friendliness was not returned. - -“’E’s stole Helbert’s clothes.” - -“You wait till my Dad ketches yer. ’E’ll wallop yer.” - -“Ma! ’E’s got our Helbert’s jersey on.” - -A woman appeared suddenly at the door of the caravan. She was larger -and dirtier and fiercer-looking than anyone William had ever seen -before. She advanced upon William, and William, forgetting his dignity -as a hero of adventures, fled through the wood in terror, till he could -flee no more. - -Then he stopped, and discovering that the fat woman was not pursuing -him, sat down and leant against a tree to rest. He took out his -crumpled packet of provisions, ate one cake and put the rest back again -into his pocket. He felt that his extra day had opened propitiously. -He was a gipsy. William never felt happier than when he had completely -shed his own identity. - -He did not regret leaving the members of the gipsy encampment. He had -not really liked the look of any of them. There had been something -unfriendly even about Helbert. He preferred to be a gipsy on his own. -He ran and leapt. He turned cart wheels. He climbed trees. He was -riotously happy. He was a gipsy. - -Suddenly he saw a little old man stretched out at full length beneath -a tree. The little old man was watching something in the grass through -a magnifying glass. On one side of him lay a notebook, on the other a -large japanned tin case. William, full of curiosity, crept cautiously -towards him through the grass on the other side of the tree. He peered -round the tree-trunk, and the little old man looking up suddenly found -William’s face within a few inches of his own. - -“Sh!” said the little old man. “A rare specimen! Ah! Gone! My movement, -I am afraid. Never mind. I had it under observation for quite fifteen -minutes. And I have a specimen of it.” - -He began to write in his notebook. Then he looked up again at William. - -“Who are you, boy?” he said suddenly. - -“I’m a gipsy,” said William proudly. - -“What’s your name?” - -“Helbert,” said William without hesitation. - -“Well, Albert,” said the little old gentleman, “would you like to earn -sixpence by carrying this case to my house? It’s just at the end of the -wood.” - -Without a word William took the case and set off beside the little old -gentleman. The little old gentleman carried the notebook, and William -carried the japanned tin case. - -“An interesting life, a gipsy’s, I should think,” said the old -gentleman. - -Memories of stories he had read about gipsies returned to William. - -“I wasn’t born a gipsy,” he said. “I was stole by the gipsies when I -was a baby.” - -The little old gentleman turned to peer at William over his spectacles. - -“Really?” he said. “That’s interesting--most interesting. What are your -earliest recollections previous to being stolen?” - -William was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was William no longer. He -was not even Helbert. He was Evelyn de Vere, the hero of “Stolen by -Gipsies,” which he had read a few months ago. - -“Oh, I remember a kinder palace an’ a garden with stachues an’ peacocks -an’--er--waterfalls an’--er--flowers an’ things, an’ a black man what -came in the night an’ took me off, an’ I’ve gotter birthmark somewhere -what’ll identify me,” he ended, with modest pride. - -“Dear me!” squeaked the little old man, greatly impressed. “How -interesting! How _very_ interesting!” - -They had reached the little old gentleman’s house. A very prim old lady -opened the door. - -“You’re late, Augustus,” she said sternly. - -“A most interesting specimen,” murmured Augustus deprecatingly. “I -found it as I was on the point of returning home and forgot the hour.” - -The prim lady was looking up and down William. - -“Who is this boy?” she said, still more sternly. - -“Ah!” said the old gentleman, as if glad to change the subject, “he is -a little gipsy.” - -“Nasty creatures!” put in the lady fiercely. - -“But he has told me his story,” said Augustus eagerly, peering at -William again over the top of his spectacles. “Interesting--most -interesting. If you’ll just come into my study with me a moment.” - -The lady pointed to a chair in the hall. - -“Sit there, boy,” she said to William. - -After a few minutes she and the little old gentleman came into the -hall again. “Where’s this birthmark you speak of?” said the old lady -severely. - -Without a moment’s hesitation, William pointed to a small black mark on -his wrist. - -The lady looked at it suspiciously. - -“My brother will go back with you to the encampment to verify your -strange story,” she said. “If it is untrue I hope they will be very -severe with you. Don’t be long, Augustus.” - -“No, Sophia,” said Augustus meekly, setting off with William. - -William was rather silent. It was strange how adventures seemed to have -a way of getting beyond control. - -“I don’ remember the peacocks very plain,” he said at last. - -“Hush!” said the old man, taking out his magnifying glass. He crept up -to a tree-trunk. He gazed at it in a rapt silence. - -“Most interesting,” he said. “I much regret having left my notebook at -home.” - -“An’, of course,” said William, “anyone might dream about stachues.” - -They found that the encampment had gone. There was no mistake about it. -There were the smouldering remains of the fire and the marks of the -wheels of the caravan. But the encampment had disappeared. They went -to the end of the wood, but there were no signs of it along any of the -three roads that met there. The little old gentleman was distraught. - -“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” he said. “How unfortunate! Do you know where they -were going next?” - -“No,” said William, truthfully. - -“Oh, dear, oh, dear! What shall we do?” - -“Let’s go back to your house,” said William trustingly. “I should think -it’s about dinner time.” - -“Well,” said Sophia grimly, “you’ve kidnapped a child from a gipsy -encampment, and I hope you’re prepared to take the consequences.” - -“Oh, dear,” said the old gentleman, almost in tears. “What a day! And -it opened so propitiously. I watched a perfect example of a scavenger -beetle at work for nearly half an hour and then--this.” - -William was watching them with a perfectly expressionless face. - -“Never mind,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what happens to-day. It’s -extra.” - -“We must keep the boy,” said Augustus, “till we have made inquiries.” - -“Then he must be washed,” said Sophia firmly, “and those dreadful -clothes must be fumigated.” - -William submitted to the humiliating process of being washed by a buxom -servant. He noticed, with misgiving, that his birthmark disappeared in -the process. He resisted all attempts on the part of the maid-servant -at intimate conversation. - -“A deaf moot, that’s wot I calls ’im,” said the maid indignantly, “an’ -me wastin’ my kindness on ’im an’ takin’ a hinterest in ’im an’ ’im -treatin’ me with scornful silence like. A deaf moot ’e is.” - -The lady called Sophia had entered, carrying a short, white, beflounced -garment. - -“This is the only thing I can find about your size, boy,” she said. -“It’s a fancy dress I had made for a niece of mine about your size. -Although it has a flimsy appearance, the thing is made on a warm wool -lining. My niece was subject to bronchitis. You will not find it cold. -You can just wear it while you have dinner, while your clothes are -being--er--heated.” - -A delicious smell was emanating from a saucepan on the fire. William -decided to endure anything rather than risk being ejected before that -smell materialised. - -He meekly submitted to Helbert’s garments being taken from him. He -meekly submitted to being dressed in the white, beflounced costume. He -remembered to take his two paper bags from the pockets of Helbert’s -knickers and tried, unsuccessfully, to find pockets in the costume -he was wearing, and finally sat on them. Then, tastefully arrayed as -a Fairy Queen, he sat down at the kitchen table to a large plateful -of stew. It was delicious stew. William felt amply rewarded for all -the indignities to which he was submitting. The servant sat opposite -watching him. - -“Is all gipsies deaf moots?” she said sarcastically. - -“I’m not an ornery gipsy,” said William, without raising his eyes -from his plate, or ceasing his appreciative and hearty consumption of -Irish stew. “I was stole by the gipsies, I was. I’ve gotter birthmark -somewhere where you can’t see it what’ll identify me.” - -“Lor!” said the maid. - -“Yes, an’ I rec’lect peacocks an’ stachues--an’--folks walkin’ about in -crowns.” - -“Crikey!” said the maid, filling his plate again with stew. - -“Yes,” said William, attacking it with undiminished gusto, “an’ the -suit I was wearin’ when they stole me is all embroidered with crowns -an’ peacocks an’--an’----” - -“An’ stachues, I suppose,” said the servant. - -“Yes,” said William absently. - -“An’ you was wearin’ silver shoes an’ stockings, I suppose.” - -“Gold,” corrected William, scraping his plate clean of the last morsel. - -“Lor!” said the maid, setting a large plate of pudding before him. -“Now, while you’re a-heatin’ of that I’ll jus’ pop round to a friend -next door an’ bring of ’er in. I shun’t like ’er to miss ’earin’ you -talk--all dressed up, like what you are, too. It’s a fair treat, it is.” - -She went, closing the door cautiously behind her. - -William disposed of the pudding and considered the situation. He felt -that this part of the adventure had gone quite far enough. He did not -wish to wait till the maid returned. He did not wish to wait till -Augustus or Sophia had “made inquiries.” - -He opened the kitchen door. The hall was empty. Sophia and Augustus -were upstairs enjoying their after-dinner nap. William tiptoed into the -hall and put on one of the coats. - -Fortunately, Augustus was a very small man, and the coat was not much -too large for William. William gave a sigh of relief as he realised -that his humiliating costume was completely hidden. Next he put on one -of Augustus’s hats. - -There was no doubt at all that it was slightly too big. Then he -returned to the kitchen, took his two precious paper packets from the -chair, put them into Augustus’s coat pockets and crept to the front -door. It opened noiselessly. William tiptoed silently and ungracefully -down the path to the road. - -All was still. The road was empty. - -It seemed a suitable moment to assume the disguise. With all the joy -and pride of the artist, William donned his precious false beard. Then -he began to walk jauntily up the road. - - * * * * * - -Suddenly he noticed a figure in front of him. It was the figure of a -very, very old man, toiling laboriously up the hill, bending over a -stick. William, as an artist, never scorned to learn. He found a stick -in the ditch and began to creep up the hill with little faltering -steps, bending over his stick. - -He was thoroughly happy again. - -He was not William. - -He was not even Helbert. - -He was a very old man, with a beard, walking up a hill. - -The old man in front of him turned into the workhouse gates, which were -at the top of the hill. William followed. The old man sat on a bench in -a courtyard. William sat beside him. The old man was very short-sighted. - -“’Ello, Thomas,” he said. - -William gave a non-committal grunt. He took out his battered paper bag -and handed a few fragments of crumbled cake to the old man. The old man -ate them. William, thrilling with joy and pride, gave him some more. He -ate them. A man in uniform came out of the door of the workhouse. - -“Arternoon, George,” he said to the old man. - -He looked closely at William as he passed. - -Then he came back and looked still more closely at William. Then he -said: “’Ere!” and whipped off William’s hat. Then he said: “Well, -I’m----!” and whipped off William’s beard. Then he said: “I’ll be----” -and whipped off William’s coat. - -William stood revealed as the Fairy Queen in the middle of the -workhouse courtyard. - -The short-sighted old man began to chuckle in a high, quavering voice. -“It’s a lady out of a circus,” he said. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! It’s a -lady out of a circus!” - -The man in uniform staggered back with one hand to his head. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM STOOD REVEALED AS THE FAIRY QUEEN IN THE MIDDLE -OF THE COURTYARD. THE SHORT-SIGHTED OLD MAN BEGAN TO CHUCKLE. “IT’S A -LADY OUT OF A CIRCUS! OH, DEAR! OH, DEAR!”] - -“Gor’ blimey!” he ejaculated. “’Ave I gone mad, or am I a-dreamin’ it?” - -“It’s a lady out of a circus. He! He!” cackled the old man. - -But William had gathered up his scattered possessions indignantly and -fled, struggling into the coat as he did so. He ran along the road that -skirted the workhouse, then, finding that he was not pursued, and that -the road was empty, adjusted his hat and beard and buttoned his coat. - -[Illustration: THE MAN IN UNIFORM STAGGERED BACK WITH ONE HAND TO HIS -HEAD.] - -At a bend in the road there was a wayside seat already partially -occupied by a young couple. William, feeling slightly shaken by the -events of the last hour, sat down beside them. He sat there for some -minutes, listening idly to their conversation, before he realised with -horror who they were. He decided to get up and unostentatiously shuffle -away. They did not seem to have noticed him so far. But Miss Flower was -demanding a bunch of the catkin palm that grew a little farther down -the road. Robert, William’s elder brother, with the air of a knight -setting off upon a dangerous quest for his ladye, went to get it for -her. Miss Flower turned to William. - -“Good afternoon,” she said. - -William shaded the side of his face from her with his hand and uttered -a sound, which was suggestive of violent pain or grief, but whose real -and only object was to disguise his natural voice. - -Miss Flower moved nearer to him on the seat. - -“Are you in trouble?” she said sweetly. - -William, at a loss, repeated the sound. - -She tried to peer into his face. - -“Could--could I help at all?” she said, in a voice whose womanly -sympathy was entirely wasted on William. - -William covered his face with both his hands and emitted a bellow of -rage and desperation. - -Robert was returning with the catkins. Miss Flower went to meet him. - -“Robert,” she said, “have you any money? I’ve left my purse at home. -There’s a poor old man here in dreadful trouble.” - -Robert’s sole worldly possessions at that moment were two and -sevenpence halfpenny. He gave her half a crown. She handed it to -William, and William, keeping his face still covered with one hand -pocketed the half-crown with the other. - -“Do speak to him,” whispered Miss Flower. “See if you can help him at -all. He may be ill.” - -Robert sat down next to William and cleared his throat nervously. - -“Now, my man----” he began, then stopped abruptly, staring at all that -could be seen of William’s face. - -He tore off the hat and beard. - -“You little wretch! And whose coat are you wearing, you little idiot?” - -He tore open the coat. The sight it revealed was too much for him. He -sank back upon the seat with a groan. - -Miss Flower sat on the grass by the roadside and laughed till the tears -ran down her cheeks. - -“Oh, William!” she said. “You are priceless. I’d just love to walk -through the village with you like that. Will you come with us, Robert?” - -“_No_,” said Robert wildly. “At every crisis of my life that boy turns -up and always in something ridiculous. He’s--he’s more like a nightmare -than a boy.” - - * * * * * - -William faced a family council consisting of his father and mother, and -Robert and Ethel. - -William was still attired as a Fairy Queen. - -“Well,” said William, in a tone of disgust. “You said to-day was extra. -I thought it didn’t count. I thought nothin’ anyone did to-day counted. -I thought it was an extra day. An’ there’s Robert takin’ a half-crown -off me an’ no one seems to mind that. An’ Robert tellin’ Miss Flower, -on the seat, how he’d wanted to live a better life since he met her.” - -Robert’s face went scarlet. - -“An’ then takin’ a half-crown off me,” William continued. “I don’ call -that livin’ a better life. _She_ gave it me an’ _he_ took it off me. I -don’ call that being noble like what he said she made him want to be. I -don’----” - -“Shut _up_,” said Robert desperately. “Shut up and I’ll give you the -wretched thing back.” - -“All right,” said William, receiving the half-crown. - -“What I want to know, William,” said Mrs. Brown almost tearfully, -“is--where are your clothes?” - -William looked down at his airy costume. - -“Oh, she took ’em off me an’ put this thing on me. She said she wanted -to heat ’em up. I dunno why. She took off my green jersey an’ my----” - -“You weren’t wearing a jersey,” screamed Mrs. Brown. - -William’s jaw dropped. - -“Oh, _those_ clothes! Crumbs! I’d forgotten about those clothes. I--I -suppose Helbert’s still gottem.” - -Mr. Brown covered his eyes with his hand. - -“Take him away,” he groaned. “Take him away! I can’t bear the sight of -him like that any longer!” - -Mrs. Brown took him away. - -She returned about half an hour later. William, tired by the events of -his extra day, had fallen at once into an undeservedly peaceful slumber. - -“It’ll take us weeks probably to put whatever he’s done to-day right,” -she said hysterically to her husband. “I do hope you’ll be severe with -him.” - -But Mr. Brown, freed from the horrible spectacle of William robed as a -Fairy Queen, had given himself up to undisturbed and peaceful enjoyment -of the fire and his armchair and evening paper. - -“To-morrow,” he promised pacifically. “Not to-day. You forget. To-day -doesn’t count.” - -“Eavesdropping,” burst out Robert suddenly. “Simply eavesdropping. I -don’t know how he can reconcile that with his conscience.” - -“Let’s all be thankful,” said Mr. Brown, “that February 29th only -happens every four years.” - -“Yes, but William doesn’t,” said Robert gloomily. “William happens all -the year round.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WILLIAM ENTERS POLITICS - - -When William at the Charity Fair was asked to join a sixpenny raffle -for a picture, and shown the prize--a dingy oil painting in an oval -gilt frame, his expression registered outrage and disgust. - -It was only when his friend Ginger whispered excitedly: “I say, -William, las’ week my aunt read in the paper about someone what scraped -off an ole picture like that an’ found a real valuable ole master -paintin’ underneath an’ sold it for more’n a thousand pounds,” that he -hesitated. An inscrutable expression came upon his freckled face as he -stared at the vague head and shoulders of a lightly clad female against -a background of vague trees and elaborate columns. - -“All right,” he said, suddenly holding out the sixpence that -represented his sole worldly assets, and receiving Ticket number 33. - -“Don’t forget it was me what suggested it,” said Ginger. - -“Yes, an’ don’t forget it was my sixpence,” said William sternly. - -William was not usually lucky, but on this occasion the number 33 -was drawn, and William, purple with embarrassment, bore off his -gloomy-looking trophy. Accompanied by Ginger he took it to the old barn. - -They scraped off the head and shoulders of the mournful and -inadequately clothed female, and they scraped off the gloomy trees, -and they scraped off the elaborate columns. To their surprise and -indignation no priceless old master stood revealed. Being thorough in -all they did, they finally scraped away the entire canvas and the back. - -“Well,” said William, raising himself sternly from the task when -nothing scrapable seemed to remain, “an’ will you kin’ly tell me where -this valu’ble ole master is?” - -“Who said definite there _was_ a valu’ble ole master?” said Ginger -in explanation. “’F you kin’ly remember right p’raps you’ll kin’ly -remember that I said that an aunt of mine _said_ that she _saw_ in the -paper that _someone’d_ scraped away an ole picture an’ found a valu’ble -ole master. I never said----” - -William was arranging the empty oval frame round his neck. - -“P’raps now,” he interrupted ironically, “you’d like to start -scratchin’ away the frame, case you find a valu’ble ole master frame -underneath.” - -“Will it hoop?” said Ginger with interest, dropping hostilities for the -moment. - -They tried to “hoop” it, but found that it was too oval. William tried -to wear it as a shield but it would not fit his arm. They tried to make -a harp of it by nailing strands of wire across it, but gave up the -attempt when William had cut his finger and Ginger had hammered his -thumb three times. - -William carried it about with him, his disappointment slightly assuaged -by the pride of possession, but its size and shape were hampering to -a boy of William’s active habits, so in the end he carefully hid it -behind the door of the old barn which he and his friends generally -made their headquarters, and then completely forgot it. - - * * * * * - -The village was agog with the excitement of the election. The village -did not have a Member of Parliament all to itself--it joined with the -neighbouring country town--but one of the two candidates, Mr. Cheytor, -the Conservative, lived in the village, so feeling ran high. - -William’s father took no interest in politics, but William’s uncle did. - -William’s uncle supported the Liberal candidate, Mr. Morrisse. He -threw himself whole-heartedly into the cause. He distributed bills, he -harangued complete strangers, he addressed imaginary audiences as he -walked along the road, he frequently brought one hand down heavily upon -the other with the mystic words: “Gentlemen, in the sacred cause of -Liberalism----” - -William was tremendously interested in him. He listened enraptured to -his monologues, quite unabashed by his uncle’s irritable refusals to -explain them to him. Politically the uncle took no interest in William. -William had no vote. - -William’s uncle was busily preparing to hold a meeting of canvassers -for the cause of the great Mr. Morrisse in his dining-room. Mr. -Morrisse, a tall, thin gentleman, for some obscure reason very proud -of his name, who went through life saying plaintively, “double S E, -please,” was not going to be there. William’s uncle was going to tell -the canvassers the main features of the programme with which to dazzle -the electors of the neighbourhood. - -“I s’pose,” said William carelessly, “you don’t mind me comin’?” - -“You suppose wrong then,” said William’s uncle. “I most emphatically -mind your coming.” - -“But why?” said William earnestly. “I’m _int’rested_. I’d like to go -canvassing too. I know a lot ’bout the rackshunaries--you know, the ole -Conservies--I’d like to go callin’ ’em names, too. I’d like----” - -“You may _not_ attend the Liberal canvassers’ meeting, William,” said -William’s uncle firmly. - -From that moment William’s sole aim in life was to attend the Liberal -canvassers’ meeting. He and Ginger discussed ways and means. They -made an honest and determined effort to impart to William an adult -appearance, making a frown with burnt cork, and adding whiskers of -matting which adhered to his cheeks by means of glue. Optimists -though they were, they were both agreed that the chances of William’s -admittance, thus disguised, into the meeting of the Liberal canvassers -was but a faint one. - -So William evolved another plan. - - * * * * * - -The dining-room in which William’s uncle was to hold his meeting was an -old-fashioned room. A hatch, never used, opened from it on to an old -stone passage. - -The meeting began. - -William’s uncle arrived and took his seat at the head of the table -with his back to the hatch. William’s uncle was rather short-sighted -and rather deaf. The other Liberal canvassers filed in and took their -places round the table. - -William’s uncle bent over his papers. The other Liberal canvassers were -gazing with widening eyes at the wall behind William’s uncle. The hatch -slowly opened. A dirty oval gilt frame appeared, and was by no means -soundlessly attached to the top of the open hatch. Through the aperture -of the frame appeared a snub-nosed, freckled, rough-haired boy with a -dirty face and a forbidding expression. - -William didn’t read sensational fiction for nothing. In “The Sign of -Death,” which he had finished by the light of a candle at 11.30 the -previous evening, Rupert the Sinister, the international spy, had -watched a meeting of masked secret service agents by the means of -concealing himself in a hidden chamber in the wall, cutting out the -eye of a portrait and applying his own eye to the hole. William had -determined to make the best of slightly less favourable circumstances. - -There was no hidden chamber, but there was a hatch; there was no -portrait, but there was the useless frame for which William had -bartered his precious sixpence. He still felt bitter at the thought. - -William felt, not unreasonably, that the sudden appearance in the -dining-room of a new and mysterious portrait of a boy might cause his -uncle to make closer investigations, so he waited till his uncle had -taken his seat before he hung himself. - -Ever optimistic, he thought that the other Liberal canvassers would be -too busy arranging their places to notice his gradual and unobtrusive -appearance in his frame. With vivid memories of the illustration in -“The Sign of Death” he was firmly convinced that to the casual observer -he looked like a portrait of a boy hanging on the wall. - -In this he was entirely deceived. He looked merely what he was--a -snub-nosed, freckled, rough-haired boy hanging up an old empty frame -in the hatch and then crouching on the hatch and glaring morosely -through the frame. - -[Illustration: MR. MOFFAT MET WILLIAM’S STONY STARE. THE OTHER HELPERS -WERE STARING BLANKLY AT THE WALL.] - -[Illustration: “DON’T YOU THINK THAT POINT IS VERY IMPORTANT!” ASKED -WILLIAM’S UNCLE.] - -William’s uncle opened the meeting: - -“... and we must emphasise the consequent drop in the price of bread. -Don’t you think that point is very important, Mr. Moffat?” - -Mr. Moffat, a thin, pale youth with a large nose and a naturally -startled expression, answered as in a trance, his mouth open, his -strained eyes fixed upon William. - -“Er--very important.” - -“Very--we can’t over-emphasise it,” said William’s uncle. - -Mr. Moffat put up a trembling hand as if to loosen his collar. He -wondered if the others saw it too. - -“Over-emphasise it,” he repeated, in a trembling voice. - -Then he met William’s stony stare and looked away hastily, drawing his -handkerchief across his brow. - -“I think we can safely say,” said William’s uncle, “that if the -Government we desire is returned the average loaf will be -three-halfpence cheaper.” - -He looked round at his helpers. Not one was taking notes. Not one was -making a suggestion. All were staring blankly at the wall behind him. - -Extraordinary what stupid fellows seemed to take up this work--that -chap with the large nose looked nothing more or less than tipsy! - -“Here are some pamphlets that we should take round with us....” - -He spread them out on the table. William was interested. He could not -see them properly from where he was. He leant forward through his -frame. He could just see the words, “Peace and Prosperity....” He -leant forward further. He leant forward too far. Accidentally attaching -his frame round his neck on his way he descended heavily from the -hatch. There was only one thing to do to soften his fall. He did it. -He clutched at his uncle’s neck as he descended. A confused medley -consisting of William, his uncle, the frame and his uncle’s chair -rolled to the floor where they continued to struggle wildly. - -“Oh, my _goodness_,” squealed the young man with the large nose -hysterically. - -Somehow in the mêlée that ensued William managed to preserve his -frame. He arrived home breathless and dishevelled but still carrying -his frame. He was beginning to experience a feeling almost akin to -affection for this companion in adversity. - -“What’s the matter?” said William’s father sternly. “What have you been -doing?” - -“Me?” said William in a voice of astonishment. “Me?” - -“Yes, you,” said his father. “You come in here like a tornado, half -dressed, with your hair like a neglected lawn----” - -William hastily smoothed back his halo of stubby hair and fastened his -collar. - -“Oh, _that_,” he said lightly. “I’ve only jus’ been out--walking an’ -things.” - -Mrs. Brown looked up from her darning. - -“I think you’d better go and brush your hair and wash your face and put -on a clean collar, William,” she suggested mildly. - -“Yes, Mother,” agreed William without enthusiasm. “Father, did you -know that the Libr’als are goin’ to make bread an’ everything cheaper -an’--an’ prosperity an’ all that?” - -“I did not,” said Mr. Brown dryly from behind his paper. - -“I’d give it a good brushing,” said his wife. - -“If there weren’t no ole rackshunary Conservy here,” said William, “I -s’pose there wouldn’t be no reason why the Lib’ral shouldn’t get in?” - -“As far as I can disentangle your negatives,” said Mr. Brown, “your -supposition is correct.” - -“I simply can’t _think_ why it always stands up so straight,” said Mrs. -Brown plaintively. - -“Well, then, why don’t they _stop_ ’em?” said William indignantly. “Why -do they _let_ the ole Conservies come in an’ spoil things an’ keep -bread up--why don’t they _stop_ ’em--why----” - -Mr. Brown uttered a hollow groan. - -“William,” said he grimly. “Go--and--brush--your--hair.” - -“All right,” he said. “I’m jus’ goin’.” - - * * * * * - -Mr. Cheytor, the Conservative candidate, had addressed a crowded -meeting and was returning wearily to his home. - -He opened the door with his latchkey and put out the hall light. The -maids had gone to bed. Then he went upstairs to his bedroom. He opened -the door. From behind the door rushed a small whirlwind. A rough -bullet-like head charged him in the region of his abdomen. Mr. Cheytor -sat down suddenly. A strange figure dressed in pyjamas, and over those -a dressing-gown, and over that an overcoat, stood sternly in front of -him. - -“You’ve gotter _stop_ it,” said an indignant voice. “You’ve gotter -stop it an’ let the Lib’rals get in--you’ve gotter stop----” - -Mr. Cheytor stood up and squared at William. William, who fancied -himself as a boxer, flew to the attack. The Conservative candidate -was evidently a boxer of no mean ability, but he lowered his form to -suit William’s. He parried William’s wild onsets, he occasionally got -a very gentle one in on William. They moved rapidly about the room, in -a silence broken only by William’s snortings. Finally Mr. Cheytor fell -over the hearthrug and William fell over Mr. Cheytor. They sat up on -the floor in front of the fire and looked at each other. - -“Now,” said Mr. Cheytor soothingly. “Let’s talk about it. What’s it all -about?” - -“They’re goin’ to make bread cheaper--the Lib’rals are,” panted -William, “an’ you’re tryin’ to stoppem an’ you----” - -“Ah,” said Mr. Cheytor, “but we’re going to make it cheaper, too.” - -William gasped. - -“You?” he said. “The Rackshunaries? But--if you’re both tryin’ to make -bread cheaper why’re you fightin’ each other?” - -“You know,” said Mr. Cheytor, “I wouldn’t bother about politics if I -were you. They’re very confusing mentally. Suppose you tell me how you -got here.” - -“I got out of my window and climbed along our wall to the road,” said -William simply, “and then I got on to your wall and climbed along it -into your window.” - -“Now you’re here,” said Mr. Cheytor, “we may as well celebrate. Do you -like roasted chestnuts?” - -“Um-m-m-m-m-m,” said William. - -“Well, I’ve got a bag of chestnuts downstairs--we can roast them at the -fire. I’ll get them. By the way, suppose your people find you’ve gone?” - -“My uncle may’ve come to see my father by now, so I don’t mind not -being at home jus’ now.” - -Mr. Cheytor accepted this explanation. - -“I’ll go down for the chestnuts then,” he said. - - * * * * * - -Fortune was kind to William. His uncle was very busy and thought he -would put off the laying of his complaint before William’s father till -the next week. The next week he was still more busy. Encountering -William unexpectedly in the street he was struck by William’s (hastily -assumed) expression of wistful sadness, and decided that the whole -thing may have been a misunderstanding. So the complaint was never laid. - -Moreover, no one had discovered William’s absence from his bedroom. -William came down to breakfast the next day with a distinct feeling -of fear, but one glance at his preoccupied family relieved him. He -sat down at his place with that air of meekness which in him always -betrayed an uneasy conscience. His father looked up. - -“Good morning, William,” he said. “Care to see the paper this morning? -I suppose with your new zeal for politics----” - -“Oh, politics!” said William contemptuously. “I’ve given ’em up. -They’re so--so,” frowning he searched in his memory for the phrase, -“They’re so--confusing ment’ly.” - -His father looked at him. - -“Your vocabulary is improving,” he said. - -“You mean my hair?” said William with a gloomy smile. “Mother’s been -scrubbin’ it back with water same as what she said.” - -William walked along the village street with Ginger. Their progress -was slow. They stopped in front of each shop window and subjected the -contents to a long and careful scrutiny. - -“There’s nothin’ _there_ I’d buy ’f I’d got a thousand pounds.” - -“Oh, _isn’t_ there? Well, I jus’ wonder. How much ’ve you got, anyway?” - -“Nothin’. How much have you?” - -“Nothin’.” - -“Well,” said William, continuing a discussion which their inspection of -the General Stores had interrupted, “I’d rather be a Pirate than a Red -Indian--sailin’ the seas an’ finding hidden treasure----” - -“I don’t quite see,” said Ginger with heavy sarcasm, “what’s to prevent -a Red Indian finding hidden treasure if there’s any to find.” - -“Well,” said William heatedly, “you show me a single tale where a Red -Indian finds a hidden treasure. That’s all I ask you to do. Jus’ show -me a _single_ tale where a----” - -“We’re not talkin’ about tales. There’s things that happen outside -tales. I suppose everything in the world that can happen isn’t in -tales. ’Sides, think of the war-whoops. A Pirate’s not got a war-whoop.” - -“Well, if you think----” - -They stopped to examine the contents of the next shop window. It was a -second-hand shop. In the window was a medley of old iron, old books, -broken photograph frames and dirty china. - -“An’ there’s nothin’ _there_ I’d wanter buy if I’d got a thousand -pounds,” said William sternly. “It makes me almost glad I’ve _got_ -no money. It mus’ be mad’ning to have a lot of money an’ never see -anything in a shop window you’d want to buy.” - -Suddenly Ginger pointed excitedly to a small card propped up in a -corner of the window, “Objects purchased for Cash.” - -“William,” gasped Ginger. “The frame!” - -A look of set purpose came into William’s freckled face. “You stay -here,” he whispered quickly, “an’ see they don’t take that card out of -the window, an’ I’ll fetch the frame.” - -Panting, he reappeared with the frame a few minutes later. Ginger’s -presence had evidently prevented the disappearance of the card. An old -man with a bald head and two pairs of spectacles examined the frame in -silence, and in silence handed William half a crown. William and Ginger -staggered out of the shop. - -“Half a crown!” gasped William excitedly. “Crumbs!” - -“I hope,” said Ginger, “you’ll remember who _suggested_ you buying that -frame.” - -“An’ I _hope_,” said William, “that you’ll remember whose sixpence -bought it.” - -This verbal fencing was merely a form. It was a matter of course that -William should share his half a crown with Ginger. The next shop was a -pastry-cook’s. It was the type of pastry-cook’s that William’s mother -would have designated as “common.” On a large dish in the middle -of the window was a pile of sickly-looking yellow pastries full of -sickly-looking yellow butter cream. William pressed his nose against -the glass and his eyes widened. - -“I say,” he said, “only a penny each. Come on in.” - -They sat at a small marble-topped table, between them a heaped plate -of the nightmare pastries, and ate in silent enjoyment. The plate -slowly emptied. William ordered more. As he finished his sixth he -looked up. His uncle was passing the window talking excitedly to Mr. -Morrisse’s agent. Across the street a man was pasting up a poster, -“Vote for Cheytor.” William regarded both with equal contempt. He took -up his seventh penny horror and bit it rapturously. - -“Fancy,” he said scornfully, “fancy people worryin’ about what _bread_ -costs.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WILLIAM MAKES A NIGHT OF IT - - -William had disliked Mr. Bennison from the moment he appeared, although -Mr. Bennison treated him with most conscientious kindness. William -disliked the way Mr. Bennison’s hair grew and the way his teeth grew -and the way his ears grew, and he disliked most of all his agreeable -manner to William himself. He was not used to agreeable manners from -adults, and he distrusted them. - -Mr. Bennison was a bachelor and wrote books on the training of -children. He believed that children should be led, not driven, that -their little hearts should be won by kindness, that their innocent -curiosity should always be promptly satisfied. He believed that -children trailed clouds of glory. He knew very few. He certainly did -not know William. - -Mr. Bennison had met Ethel, William’s sister, while she was staying -with an aunt. Ethel possessed blue eyes and a riot of auburn hair -of which William was ashamed. He considered that red hair was quite -inconsistent with beauty. He found that most young men who met Ethel -did not share that opinion. - -Although Mr. Bennison had reached the mature age of forty without -having found any passion to supersede his passion for educational -theories, he experienced a distinct quickening of his middle-aged -heart at the sight of Ethel with her forget-me-not eyes and copper -locks. William never could understand what men “saw in” Ethel. William -considered her interfering and bad-tempered and stingy, and everything -that an ideal sister should not be. Yet there was no doubt that adult -males “saw something” in her. - -And William had the wisdom to make capital out of this distorted idea -of beauty whenever he could. - -William was in that state of bankruptcy which occurred regularly in the -middle of each week. He was never given enough pocket money to last -from Saturday to Saturday. That was one of his great grievances against -life. And just now there were some pressing calls on his purse. - -It was Ginger, William’s boon companion, who had seen the tops in the -shop window and realised suddenly that the top season was upon them -once more. The next day, almost the whole school was equipped with tops. - -Only William and Ginger seemed topless. To William, a born leader, the -position was intolerable. It was Wednesday. The thought of waiting till -Saturday was not for one moment to be entertained. Money must somehow -or other be raised in the interval. - -Tops of a kind could be bought for sixpence, but the really superior -tops--the tops which befitted the age and dignity of William and -Ginger--cost one shilling, and William and Ginger, never daunted by -difficulties, determined to raise the sum by the next day. - -“We mus’ get a shilling each,” said William, with his expression of -grim and fixed determination, “an’ we’ll buy ’em to-morrow.” - -“Well, you know what my folks are like,” said Ginger despondently. -“You know what it’s like tryin’ to get money out of ’em. ‘_Save_ your -pocket money,’ they say. If they’d _give_ me enough I’d be able to -save. What’s sixpence? Could anyone save sixpence? It’s gone in a -day--sixpence is. An’ they say ‘save,’” he ended bitterly. - -[Illustration] - -“Well,” said William, “all I can say is that no one’s folks can be -stingier than mine, and that if I can get a shilling----” - -“Yes, but you’ve not got it yet, have you?” taunted Ginger. - -“No,” said William confidently, “but you wait till to-morrow!” - - * * * * * - -William had spoken confidently, but he felt far from confident. He knew -by experience the difficulty of extorting money from his family. He had -tried pathos, resentment, indignation, pleading, and all had failed on -every occasion. He was generally obliged to have recourse to finesse. -He only hoped that on this occasion Fate would provide circumstances on -which he could exercise his finesse. - -He entered the drawing-room, and it was then that he first saw Mr. -Bennison. It was then that he took a violent and definite dislike to -Mr. Bennison, yet he had a wild hope that he might be a profitable -source of tips. With a mental vision of the tops before his eyes he -assumed an expression of virtue and innocence. - -“So this,” said Mr. Bennison, with a genial smile, “is the little -brother.” - -William’s expression of virtue melted into a scowl. William was eleven -years old. He objected to being called a “little” anything. - -“I heard there was a little brother,” went on the visitor, perpetrating -the supreme mistake of laying his hand upon William’s tousled head. -“‘Will’ is the name, is it not? ‘Willie’ for short, I presume? Ha! Ha!” - -Mrs. Brown, noting fearfully the expression upon her son’s face, -interposed. - -“We call him William,” she said rather hastily. - -“I call him ‘Willie’--for short,” smiled Mr. Bennison, patting -William’s unruly locks. - -Mr. Bennison laboured under the delusion that he “got on with” -children. It was well for his peace of mind that William’s face was at -that moment hidden from him. It was only the thoughts of the top which -might be the outcome of all that made William endure the indignity. - -“And I have brought a present for Willie-for-short,” went on Mr. -Bennison humorously. - -William’s heart rose. It might be a top. It might be something he could -exchange for a top. Best of all, it might be money. - -But Mr. Bennison took a book out of his pocket and handed it to William. - -The book was called “A Child’s Encyclopædia of Knowledge.” - -Mrs. Brown, who could see William’s face, went rather pale. - -“Say ‘Thank you,’ William dear,” she said nervously, then, hastily -covering William’s murmured thanks, “How very kind of you, Mr. -Bennison. How very kind. He’ll be most interested. I’m sure he will, -won’t you, William, dear? Er--I’m sure he will.” - -William freed himself from Mr. Bennison’s hand, and went towards the -door. - -“You will remember,” went on Mr. Bennison, pleasantly, “that in my -‘Early Training of the Young’ I lay down the rule that every present -given to a child should tend to his or her mental development. I do -not believe in giving a child presents of money before he or she is -sixteen. No really wise faculty of choice is developed before then. I -expect you remember that in my ‘Parents’ Help,’ I said----” - -William crept quietly from the room. - - * * * * * - -He went first of all to Ethel’s bedroom. - -She was reading a novel in an arm-chair. - -“Go away!” she said to William. - -In the midst of his preoccupation William found time to wonder again -what people “saw in” her. Well, if they only _knew_ her as well as he -did.... But the all-important question was the question of tops. - -“Ethel,” he said in a tone of brotherly sweetness and Christian -forgiveness, “have you got any tops left? You must have had tops when -you were young. I wonder if you’d like to give ’em to me ’f you’ve got -any left, an’ I’ll use ’em up for you.” - -“Well, I’ve not,” snapped Ethel, “so go away.” - -William turned to the door, then turned back as if struck by a sudden -thought. - -“D’you remember, Ethel,” he said, “that I took a spider out of your -hair for you las’ summer? I wondered ’f you’d care to lend me a -shilling jus’ till my next pocket money----” - -“You _put_ it in my hair first,” said Ethel indignantly, “and I jolly -well won’t, and I wish you’d go away.” - -William looked at her coldly. - -“_How_ people can say you’re ’tractive----” he said. “Well, all I can -say is wait till they _know_ you, an’ that man downstairs coming jus’ -’cause of you an’ worryin’ folks’ lives out an’ strokin’ their heads -an’ givin’ ’em books--well, you’d think he’d be ashamed, an’ you’d -think you’d be ashamed, too!” - -Ethel had flushed. - -“You needn’t think I want him,” she said. “I should think I’m the only -person who can grumble about _him_ being here. I have to stay up here -all the afternoon just because I can’t bear the nonsense he talks when -I’m down.” - -“How long’s he staying?” said William. - -“Oh, a week,” said Ethel viciously. “He said he was motoring in the -neighbourhood, and mother asked him to stay a week. She likes him. He’s -got three cars and a lot of money, and he can talk the hind leg off a -donkey, and she likes him. All I can say,” bitterly, “is that I’m going -to have a nice week!” - -“What about a shilling?” said William, returning to the more important -subject. “Look here, ’f you lend me a shilling now I’ll give you a -shilling _an’_ a penny when I get my pocket money on Saturday. I’ll not -forget. A shilling _an’_ a penny for a shilling. I should think you’d -call it a bargain.” - -“Well, I wouldn’t,” said Ethel, “and I wish you’d go--_away_.” - -“I don’t call you very gen’rous, Ethel,” said William loftily. - -[Illustration] - -“No, and I’m not likely to be generous or feel generous with that man -in the house,” said Ethel. - -William was silent. He was silent for quite a long time. William’s -silences generally meant something. - -“S’pose,” he said at last, “s’pose he went to-morrow, would you feel -generous then?” - -“I would,” said Ethel recklessly. “I’d feel it quite up to two -shillings in that case. But he won’t go. Don’t you think it! -And-will-you-_go away?_” - -William went, rather to her surprise, without demur. - -He walked very slowly downstairs. His brow was knit in thought. - -Mr. Bennison was still talking to Mrs. Brown in the drawing-room. - -“Oh, yes, that is one of my very firmest tenets. I have laid stress on -that in all my books. The child’s curiosity must always be appeased. No -matter at what awkward time the child propounds the question, he or she -must be answered courteously and fully. Curiosity must be appeased the -moment it appears. If a child came to me in the middle of the night for -knowledge,” he laughed uproariously at his joke, “I trust I should give -it to the best of my ability, fully, and--er--as I said.... Ah, here, -is our little Willie-for-short.” - -Still holding his “Child’s Encyclopædia of Knowledge,” William turned -and quickly left the room. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Bennison had had a good dinner and a pleasant talk with Ethel -before he came to bed. - -The talk had been chiefly on his side, but he preferred it that way. -He was thinking how pleasant would be a life in which he could talk -continuously to Ethel, while he looked at her blue eyes and auburn hair. - -He wrote a chapter of his new book, heading it “Common Mistakes in the -Treatment of Children.” - -He insisted in that chapter that children should be treated with -reverence and respect. He laid down his favourite rule: “A child’s -curiosity must be immediately satisfied when and where it appears, -irrespective of inconvenience to the adult.” - -Then he got into bed. - -The bed was warm and comfortable and he was drifting blissfully into a -dreamless sleep when the door opened and William, clad in pyjamas and -carrying the “Child’s Encyclopædia of Knowledge,” appeared. - -[Illustration] - -“’Scuse me disturbin’ you,” said William politely, “but it says in -this book what you kindly gave me somethin’ about Socrates” (William -pronounced it in two syllables ‘So-crates’) “an’ I thought p’raps you -wun’t mind explaining to me what they are. I dunno what So-crates are.” - -Mr. Bennison was on the whole rather pleased. In all his books he had -insisted that if the child came for knowledge at midnight the child’s -curiosity must be satisfied then and there, and he was glad of an -opportunity of living up to his ideals. He dragged his mind back from -the rosy mists of sleep and endeavoured to satisfy William’s thirst for -knowledge. - -He talked long and earnestly about Socrates, his life and teaching and -his place in history. William listened with an expressionless face. - -Whenever the other seemed inclined to draw his remarks to a close -William would gently interpose a question which would set his eloquence -going again at full flow. But Mr. Bennison’s eyes began to droop and -his eloquence began to languish. He looked at his watch. It was 12.30. - -“I think that’s all, my boy,” he said with quite a passable attempt at -bluff, hearty kindness in his voice. - -“You haven’t quite ’splained to me----” began William. - -“I’ve told you all I know,” said Mr. Bennison irritably. - -William, still clasping his book, went quietly from the room. - -Mr. Bennison turned over and began to go to sleep. It took a little -time to get over the interruption, but soon a delicious drowsiness -began to steal over him. - -Going--going---- - -William entered the room again, still carrying his “Child’s -Encyclopædia of Knowledge.” - -“It says in this book what you kindly gave me,” he said earnestly, “all -about Compound Interest, but I don’t quite understand----” - -William was very clever at not understanding Compound Interest. He -had an excellent repertoire of intelligent questions about Compound -Interest. At school he could, for a consideration, “play” the -Mathematics master on Compound Interest for an entire lesson while his -friends amused themselves in their own way in the desks behind. - -Mr. Bennison’s eloquence was somewhat lacking in lucidity and -inspiration this time, but he struggled gallantly to clear the mists of -William’s ignorance. At times the earnestness of William’s expression -touched him. At times he distrusted it. At no time did it suggest those -clouds of glory that he liked to associate with children. By 1.30 he -had talked about Compound Interest till he was hoarse. - -“I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you,” he said with an -air of irritation which he vainly endeavoured to hide. “Er--shut the -door after you. It’s very draughty when you leave it open--er--dear -boy.” - -William, with the utmost docility, went out of the room. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Bennison turned over and tried to go to sleep. It did not seem so -easy to go to sleep this time. There is something about explaining -Compound Interest to the young and ignorant that is very stimulating to -the brain. - -He tried to count sheep going through a stile and they persisted in -turning into the figures of a Compound Interest sum. He tried to -call back the picture of domestic happiness with which the sight of -William’s sister had inspired him earlier in the evening, and always -the vision of William’s earnest, inscrutable countenance rose to spoil -it. - -Sheep--one--two--three--four--five---- - -[Illustration: THE DOOR OPENED AND WILLIAM APPEARED FOR THE THIRD TIME. -“IN THIS BOOK WHAT YOU KINDLY GAVE ME,” HE BEGAN, “IT TELLS ABOUT THE -STARS.”] - -The door opened, and William appeared with the open book once more in -his hand. - -“In this book what you kindly gave me,” he began, “it tells about the -stars an’ the Lion an’ that, an’ I can’t find the Lion from the window, -though the stars are out. I wondered ’f you’d kindly let me look -through yours.” - -Sheep and stile vanished abruptly. After a short silence pregnant with -unspoken words, Mr. Bennison sat up in bed. He looked very weary as -he stared at William, but he was doggedly determined to act up to his -ideals. - -“I don’t think you can see the Lion from this side of the house, my -boy,” he said, in what he imagined was a kind tone of voice, “it must -be right on the opposite side of the house.” - -“Then we could see it from my window,” said William brightly and -guilelessly, “if you’d kin’ly come an’ help me find it.” - -[Illustration: MR. BENNISON SAT UP IN BED. HE LOOKED VERY WEARY AS HE -STARED AT WILLIAM.] - -Mr. Bennison said nothing for a few seconds. He was counting forty to -himself. It was a proceeding to ensure self-control taught him by his -mother in early youth. It had never failed him yet, though it nearly -did on this occasion. Then he followed William across the landing to -his room. - -William was not content with the Lion. He insisted on finding all -the other constellations mentioned in the book. At 2.30 Mr. Bennison -staggered back to his bedroom. He did not go to bed at once. He took -out the chapter he had written early in the evening and crossed out the -words, “A child’s curiosity must be immediately satisfied when and -where it appears, irrespective of inconvenience to the adult.” - -He decided to cut out all similar sentiments in the next editions of -all his books. - -Then he got into bed. Sleep at last--blissful, drowsy, soul-satisfying -sleep. - -“Mr. Bennison--_Mr. Bennison_--in this book what you kindly gave me -there’s some kind of puzzles--‘’telligence tests’ it calls ’em, an’ I -can’t do ’em. I wondered if you’d kindly help me----” - -“Well, I won’t,” said Mr. Bennison. “Go away. Go away, I tell you.” - -“There’s only a page of ’em,” said William. - -“Go _away_,” roared Mr. Bennison, drawing the clothes over his head. “I -tell you I won’t--_I won’t_----” - -William quietly went away. - -Now Mr. Bennison was a conscientious man. Left alone in the silence of -the night all desire for sleep deserted him. He was horrified at his -own depravity. He had deliberately broken his own rule. He had been -false to his ideals. - -He had refused to satisfy the curiosity of the young when and where it -appeared. A child had come to him for help in the middle of the night -and he had refused him or her. The child, moreover, might repeat the -story. It might get about. People might hold it up against him. - -After wrestling with his conscience for half an hour he arose and -sought William in his room. At four o’clock he was still trying to -solve the intelligence tests for William. William stood by wearing that -expression that Mr. Bennison was beginning to dislike intensely. - -At 4:15 Mr. Bennison, looking wild and dishevelled, returned to his -room. But he was a broken man. He struggled no longer against Fate. -Five o’clock found him explaining to William exactly why Charles I had -been put to death. - -Six o’clock found him trying to fathom the meaning of “plunger” and -“inductance” and “slider” and various other words that occurred in the -chapter on Wireless. It fortunately never occurred to him that they -were all terms with which William was perfectly familiar. - -As he held his head and tried to think from what Greek or Latin -words the terms might have been derived, he missed the flicker that -occasionally upset the perfect repose of William’s features. - -At seven o’clock he felt really ill and went downstairs to try to find -a whisky-and-soda. It was not William’s fault that he fell over the -knitting on which Mrs. Brown had been engaged the evening before, and -which had slipped from her chair on to the floor. His frenzied efforts -to disentangle his feet entangled them still further. - -At last, with teeth bared in rage and wearing the air of a Samson -throwing off his enemies, he tore wildly at the wool, and scattering -bits of this material and unravelled socks about him, he strode forward -to the sideboard. He could not find a whisky-and-soda. After upsetting -a cruet in the sideboard cupboard he went guiltily back to his bedroom. - -His bed looked tidier than he imagined he had left it, and very -inviting. Perhaps he might get just half an hour’s sleep before he got -up.... He flung himself on to the bed. His feet met with an unexpected -resistance half-way down the bed, bringing his knees sharp up to his -chin. The bed was wrong. The bed was all wrong. The bed was all very -wrong. - -For a few seconds Mr. Bennison forgot the traditions of self-restraint -and moderation of language on which he had been reared. William, -standing in the doorway, listened with interest. - -“I hope you don’t mind me tryin’ ’f I could do it,” he said. “I dunno -why it’s called an apple-pie bed, do you? It doesn’t say nothing about -it in this book what you kindly gave me.” - -Mr. Bennison flung himself upon William with a roar. William dodged -lightly on to the landing. Mr. Bennison followed and collided heavily -with a housemaid who was carrying a tray of early morning tea. - - * * * * * - -William came down to breakfast. He entered the dining-room slowly and -cautiously. Only his father and mother were there. His mother was -talking to his father. - -“He wouldn’t even stay for breakfast,” she was saying. “He said his -letter called him back to town on most urgent business. I didn’t like -his manner at all.” - -“Oh?” said her husband from behind his paper, without much interest. - -“No, I thought it rather ungracious, and he looked queer.” - -“Oh?” said her husband, turning to the financial columns. - -“Yes--wild and hollow-eyed and that sort of thing. I’ve wondered since -whether perhaps he takes drugs. One reads of such things, you know, and -he certainly looked queer. I’m glad he’s gone.” - -William went up to Ethel’s bedroom. Ethel was gloomily putting the -finishing touches to her auburn hair. - -“He’s gone, Ethel,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “gone for -good.” - -Ethel’s countenance brightened. - -“Sure?” she said. - -“Sure,” he said. “Now what ’bout that two shillings?” - -She looked at him with sudden suspicion. - -“Have you----?” she began. - -“Me?” broke in William indignantly. “Why, I din’ know he’d gone till I -got down to breakfast.” - -“All right,” said Ethel carelessly. “If he’s really and truly gone, -I’ll give you half a crown.” - - * * * * * - -William, on his way to school, met Ginger at the end of the lane. - -“I’ve tried ’em all,” said Ginger despondently, “an’ none of ’em’ll -give me a penny.” - -William with a flourish brought out his half a crown. - -“This’ll do for both of us,” he said with a lordly air. - -“Crumbs!” said Ginger, with respect and admiration in his voice. “Who -d’you get that out of?” - -“Well, a man came to stay at our house----” began William. - -Ginger’s respect and admiration vanished. - -“Oh, a _visitor!_” he said disparagingly. “’S easy enough to get money -out of a visitor.” - -“’F you think _this_ was easy,” began William with deep feeling, then -stopped. - -It was a long story and already retreating into the limbo of the past. -He could not sully the golden present by a lengthy repetition of it. It -had been jolly hard work while it lasted, but now it was over and done -with. It belonged to the past. The present included a breathless run -into the village, leaping backwards and forwards across the ditches, -a race down the village streets and TOPS--glorious tops--superior -shilling-each tops with sixpence over. - -He uttered his shrill, discordant war-whoop. - -“Come on,” he shouted, “’fore they’re all sold out. Race you to the end -of the road!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A DRESS REHEARSAL - - -It was Saturday, but despite that glorious fact, William, standing at -the dining-room window and surveying the world at large, could not for -the moment think of anything to do. - -From the window he saw the figure of his father, who sat peacefully on -the lawn reading a newspaper. William was not fond of his own society. -He liked company of any sort. He went out to the lawn and stood by his -father’s chair. - -“You’ve not got much hair right on the top of your head, father,” he -said pleasantly and conversationally. - -There was no answer. - -“I said you’d not got much hair on the top of your head,” repeated -William in a louder tone. - -“I heard you,” said his father coldly. - -“Oh,” said William, sitting down on the ground. There was silence for a -minute, then William said in friendly tones: - -“I only said it again ’cause I thought you didn’t hear the first time. -I thought you’d have said, ‘Oh,’ or ‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’ or something if -you’d heard.” - -There was no answer, and again after a long silence, William spoke. - -“I didn’t mind you not sayin’ ‘Oh,’ or ‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’” he said, “only -that was what made me say it again, ’cause with you not sayin’ it I -thought you’d not heard.” - -Mr. Brown arose and moved his chair several feet away. William, on whom -hints were wasted, followed. - -“I was readin’ a tale yesterday,” he said, “about a man wot’s legs got -bit off by sharks----” - -Mr. Brown groaned. - -“William,” he said politely, “pray don’t let me keep you from your -friends.” - -“Oh, no, that’s quite all right,” said William. “Well--p’raps Ginger is -lookin’ for me. Well, I’ll finish about the man an’ the sharks after -tea. You’ll be here then, won’t you?” - -“Please, don’t trouble,” said Mr. Brown with sarcasm that was entirely -lost on his son. - -“Oh, it’s not a trouble,” said William as he strolled off, “I like -talkin’ to people.” - - * * * * * - -Ginger was strolling disconsolately down the road looking for William. -His face brightened when he saw William in the distance. - -“Hello, William.” - -“Hello, Ginger.” - -In accordance with their usual ceremonial greeting, they punched each -other and wrestled with each other till they rolled on to the ground. -Then they began to walk along the road together. - -“I’ve not got to stop with you long,” said Ginger gloomily; “my -mother’s got an ole Sale of Work in her garden, an’ she wants me to -help.” - -“Huh!” said William scornfully, “_you_ helpin’ at a Sale of Work! -_You._ Huh!” - -“She’s goin’ to give me five shillings,” went on Ginger coldly. - -William slightly modified his tone. “Well, I never said you can’t help, -did I?” he said in a more friendly voice. - -“She said I needn’t go for about half an hour. Wot’ll we do? Dig for -hidden treasure?” - -Two months ago William and his friends had been fired with the idea of -digging for hidden treasure. From various books they had read (“Ralph -the Reckless,” “Hunted to Death,” “The Quest of Captain Terrible,” -etc.), they had gathered that the earth is chockful of buried treasure -if only one takes the trouble to dig deep enough. - -They had resolved to dig every inch of their native village, collect -all the treasure they found, and with it buy a desert island on which -they proposed to spend the rest of their lives unhampered by parents -and schoolmasters. - -They had decided to begin with the uncultivated part of Ginger’s back -garden, and to buy further land for excavation with the treasure they -found in the back garden. - -Their schemes were not narrow. They had decided to purchase and to pull -down all the houses in the village as their treasure grew and more and -more land was required for digging. - -But they had dug unsuccessfully for two months in Ginger’s back garden -and were beginning to lose heart. They had not realised that digging -was such hard work, or that ten feet square of perfectly good land -would yield so little treasure. Conscientiously they carried on the -search, but it had lost its first fine careless rapture, and they were -glad of any excuse for avoiding it. - -“Dig in your back garden with all those Sale of Work people messin’ -about interruptin’ and gettin’ in the way?” said William sternly. “Not -much!” - -“All right,” said Ginger relieved. “I only _s’gested_ it. Well, shall -we hunt for smugglers?” - - * * * * * - -There was a cave in the hillside just beneath the road, and though the -village in which William and Ginger lived was more than a hundred -miles inland, William and Ginger were ever hopeful of finding a -smuggler or, at any rate, traces of a smuggler, in the cave. They -searched it carefully every day. - -As William said, “’S’only likely the reely cunnin’ ones wouldn’t stay -sittin’ in their caves by the sea all the time. They’d know folks’d be -on the look out for ’em there. They’d bring their things here where no -one’d expect ’em. Why, with a fine cave like this there’s _sure_ to be -smugglers.” - -When tired of hunting for smugglers, or traces of smugglers, they -adopted the characters of smugglers themselves, and carried their -treasure (consisting of stones) up the hillside to conceal it in the -cave, or fled for their lives to the cave with imaginary soldiers in -pursuit. From the cover of the cave, Bill, the smuggler, often covered -the entire hillside with the dead bodies of soldiers. In these frays -the gallant smugglers never received even the slightest scratch. - -With ever fresh hope they searched the cave again. Ginger found a stone -that he said had not been there yesterday, and must have been left as -a kind of signal, but William said that he distinctly recognised it as -having been there yesterday, and the matter dropped. - -After a brief and indecisive discussion as to how they should spend the -five shillings that Ginger’s mother had said she would give him, they -occupied themselves in crawling laboriously on their stomachs in and -out of the cave so as to be unperceived by the soldiers who were on the -watch above and below. - -At last, Ginger, moved not so much by his conscience as by fears of -forfeiting his five shillings, set off sadly homewards, and William set -off along the road in the opposite direction. - -He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, dragging his shoes in the -dust in a manner which his mother frequently informed him brought the -toes through in no time. - - * * * * * - -When he came to the school he stopped, attracted by the noise that came -through the open window of the schoolroom. They were preparing for a -dress rehearsal of the “Pageant of Ancient Britain,” which was to be -performed the next month. William, who was not in the caste, looked -with interest through the window. Ancient Britons in various stages of -skins and woad and grease paint stood about the room or leap-frogged -over each other’s backs or wrestled with each other in corners. William -espied a particular enemy at the other end of the room. He put his head -through the window. - -“Hello, Monkey Brand,” he called in his strident, devastating voice. - -Miss Carter, mistress of the Second Form, raised herself wearily from -arranging the skin of an infant Ancient Briton. - -“I wish you wouldn’t,” she began testily, then, her voice sinking into -hopelessness, “Oh, it’s William Brown.” - -William, ignoring her, put his fingers to his lips and, still gazing -belligerently at his enemy, emitted a deafening whistle. Miss Carter -put her hands to her ears. - -“_William!_” she said irritably. - -William wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. - -“Beg pardon,” he said mechanically and without feeling, as he withdrew -his head and prepared to retire. - -“Oh, one minute, William. What are you doing just now?” - -William inserted his untidy head in the window again. - -“Me?” he said. “Nothin’. Jus’ nothin’.” - -“Well, I wish you’d come and be an Ancient Briton just for the dress -rehearsal--it won’t be long, but so many of them can’t come this -afternoon, and it’s so difficult to arrange how they’re to stand with -only three-quarters of them there. You needn’t be made up, but just put -this skin on.” - -She held up a small skin carelessly in her hand. William looked round -the room with his sternest and most disapproving scowl. - -“Have I gotter come in with all those boys all over the place an’ -change with all those boys botherin’ me all the time so’s I don’t know -wot I’m doin’ an’----” - -Miss Carter was in a bad temper. She threw the skin irritably at -William through the window. - -“Oh, change where you like,” she snapped, “if you’ll be back here in -five minutes.” - -William took the skin eagerly. - -“Oh, yes, I will,” he promised. - -Then he rolled up the skin and stuffed it under his arm. It instantly -changed into a bale of precious but vague contraband material. - -Glancing sternly round for soldiers, William crept cautiously and -silently down to his cave. There he drew a sigh of relief, placed his -gun in a corner and changed into the skin. Once clad in the skin, his -ordinary clothes became the precious but vague contraband material. -He crept to the entrance, glanced furtively around, then wrapped his -clothes into a bundle and looked around for some place of concealment. -On the ground at the further end of the cave was a large piece of paper -in which he and Ginger had once brought their lunch. - -Still with many furtive glances around, he wrapped up his clothes and -concealed the bundle on a shelf of rock in the corner of the cave. Then -he took up his gun, shot two soldiers who were just creeping towards -the entrance of the cave, walked to the doorway, shot again at a crowd -of soldiers who fled in panic terror at his approach. Then, resplendent -in his skin and drunk with heroism and triumph, he swaggered up the -hillside and into the school. - - * * * * * - -As an Ancient Briton, he was not an unqualified success, and more than -once Miss Carter regretted her casual invitation. William considered -the rehearsal as disappointing as the rehearsal considered him--just -standin’ about an’ singin’ an’ talkin’--no fightin’ nor shoutin’ nor -nothin’. He was glad he _wasn’t_ a Nanshunt Briton, if that’s all the -poor things could do. - -However, at last it was over, and he crept again furtively down the -hillside to his private dressing-room. Ginger was standing near the -cave entrance. - -“What’ve you been _doing_ all this time?” he began; then, as his gaze -took in William’s costume, his mouth opened. - -“Crumbs!” he said. - -“I’m a Nanshunt Briton,” said William, airily. “They jus’ wanted me to -go an’ be a Nanshunt Briton up at the school an’----” - -“Well,” interrupted Ginger excitedly, “while you’ve been away I’ve -_found_ ’em at last.” - -“What?” said William. - -“Smugglers!” said Ginger excitedly. “Smugglers’ things.” - -“Golly!” said William, equally thrilled. “Where?” - -“In the cave--when I came to look for you, an’ I cun’t find you, an’ I -looked round the cave again, an’ I found ’em.” - -A sudden fear chilled William’s enthusiasm. - -“What were they?” - -“Clothes an’ things. I thought I wun’t look at ’em prop’ly till you -came. They was wrapped up in that ole paper we brought our food in last -week.” - -The Ancient Briton looked at him sternly and accusingly. - -“Yes--well, they were my clothes wot I’d changed out of, that’s what -they were. You’re jus’ a bit too clever takin’ people’s clothes for -smugglers’ things. Anyway, I’m jus’ gettin’ cold with only a skin on, -so jus’ please give me those smugglers’ things, so’s I can put ’em on.” - -Ginger’s jaw dropped. - -“I--I took ’em home. I didn’t want to leave ’em about here case someone -else found ’em. I hid ’em behind a tree in our garden.” - -The Ancient Briton’s gaze became still more stern. - -“Well, p’raps you’d kin’ly gettem for me out of your garden ’fore I die -of cold, dressed in only a skin. I should think the Anshunt Britons -all died of cold if they felt like wot I feel like. You’re jus’ a bit -too clever with other people’s smugglers’ things; an’ s’pose Miss -Carter comes down for her skin an’ wot d’you think I’ll look like then, -dressed in nothin’?” - -“All right,” said Ginger. “I’ll gettem. I won’t be a minute. If you -will leave your clothes all about the cave lookin’ _exactly_ like -smugglers’ things----” - -He was gone, and William sat shivering in a corner of the cave, dressed -in his Ancient Briton costume. The glamour of the cave was gone. -William felt that he definitely disliked smugglers. The only people he -disliked more than he disliked smugglers were Ancient Britons, for whom -he now felt a profound scorn and loathing. - -In about ten minutes’ time Ginger returned. He was empty handed, and -there was a look of consternation on his face. - -“William,” he said meekly, “I’m awfully sorry. It’s been sold. They -thought it was meant for the rummage stall, an’ they’ve took it an’ -sold it.” - -William was speechless with indignation. - -“Well,” he said at last, “you’ve gone an’ sold all my clothes--an’ -_now_ what do you think’s goin’ to happen to me? That’s jus’ wot I’d -like to know, ’f you don’ mind tellin’ me. Wot’s goin’ to happen to -me? P’raps as you’ve sold all my clothes, you’ll kin’ly tell me wot’s -goin’ to happen to me, gettin’ colder an’ colder. P’raps you’d like -me to freeze to death. How’m I goin’ to get home, an’ if I don’t get -home how’m I goin’ to get anythin’ to eat, and if I don’t get anythin’ -to eat, how’m I goin’ to live? I’m dyin’ of cold now. Well, I only -hope you’ll be sorry then--then, when prob’ly you’ll be bein’ hung for -murderin’ me.” William returned to earth from his flights of fancy. -“Well, now, p’raps you’ll kin’ly get my clothes back.” - -[Illustration: “WELL,” SAID WILLIAM STERNLY, “YOU’VE GONE AND SOLD ALL -MY CLOTHES--AN’ NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME? HOW’M I -GOIN’ TO GET HOME?”] - -[Illustration] - -“How can I?” said Ginger, with the air of one goaded beyond endurance. - -“Well, you can go an’ find out who bought ’em, I suppose--only you -needn’t tell ’em whose they was.” - -Again Ginger departed, and again the Ancient Briton sat shivering and -gazing sternly and accusingly around the cave. - -After a short interval Ginger appeared again, breathless with running. - -“Mr. Groves bought it, William, from Wayside Cottage. I dunno how I’m -to get ’em back, though, William.” - -William sighed. - -“I’d better come with you,” he said wearily. “’Sides, I shall prob’ly -get froze into a glacier or something if I stay in here any more.” - -The Ancient Briton gazed furtively around from the cave door, without -that bravado and swagger generally displayed by Bill the Smuggler. The -coast was clear. The two boys crept out. - -“When I get to the road, I’ll crawl on my stomach in the ditch like as -if I were a smuggler, then no one’ll see me.” - -Ginger walked dejectedly along the road, while the Ancient Briton -made a slow and very conspicuous progress in the ditch beside -him--ejaculating irascibly as he went: - -“Well, I’ve jus’ _done_ with smugglers _an’_ with Anshunt Britons. -I’ll never look at another smuggler _or_ a Nanshunt Briton while I -live--’n if you hadn’t been so jolly _clever_ runnin’ off with other -people’s clothes, an’ _sellin’_ ’em, I shouldn’t be crawlin’ along -_an’_ scratchin’ myself, _an’_ cuttin’ myself, _an’_ eatin’ mud. Now,” -in a voice of pure wonder, “how did Anshunt Britons get about? I don’t -know--all shiverin’ with cold an’ scratchin’ themselves _an’_ cuttin’ -themselves----” - -Wayside Cottage was, fortunately for the Ancient Briton, on the -outskirts of the village. The front door was conveniently open. There -was a small garden in front, and a longer garden behind, with a little -corrugated iron building at the end. - -“Come on,” said William. “Let’s go an’ get ’em back.” - -“Are you goin’ to ask him for ’em?” said Ginger. - -“No, I’m _not_. I don’t want everyone in this village talking about -it,” said William sternly. “I jus’ want to get ’em back quietly an’ put -’em on an’ no one know anything about it. I don’t want anyone _talkin’_ -about it.” - -No one was about. They gazed at the stairs from the open doorway. -“They’ll be upstairs,” said William in a hoarse whisper; “clothes are -always upstairs. Now, come _very_ quietly. _Creep_ upstairs.” - -Ginger followed him loyally, fearfully, reluctantly, and they went -upstairs. Every time Ginger hit a stair rod, or made a stair creak, -William turned round with a stern and resonant “Sh!” At last they -reached the landing. William cautiously opened the door and peeped -within. It was a bedroom, and it was empty. - -“Come on,” whispered William, with the cheerfulness of the born -optimist. “They’re sure to be here.” - -They entered and closed the door. - -“Now,” said William, “we’ll look in all the drawers and then we’ll look -in the wardrobe.” - -They began to open the drawers one by one. Suddenly Ginger said “Hush!” - -There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. They drew nearer -the door. - -“Crumbs!” gasped William. “Under the bed--quick!” - -As they disappeared under the bed the door opened and a little old -gentleman came in. He looked round at the open drawers and frowned. - -“How curious!” he said as he shut them; “how very curious!” - -Then he hummed to himself, straightened his collar at the glass, took a -few little dancing steps round the room, and then stood irresolute, his -hand on his chin. - -“Now what did I come up for?” he said. “What did I come up for? Ah! A -handkerchief.” - -All might have been well had not the Ancient Briton at this moment -succumbed to the united effects of cold and dust, and emitted a -resounding sneeze. - -“Bless my soul!” said the old gentleman. “Bless my----” - -He dived beneath the bed, and, seizing hold of William’s bare and -muddy foot, he pulled. But William had firm hold of the further leg -of the bed, and the old gentleman, exerting his utmost strength, only -succeeded in pulling the bed across the room with William still firmly -attached to it. But this treatment infuriated William. - -“’F you’d kin’ly stop draggin’ me about on my stomach----” he began, -then emerged, stern and dusty, and arranging his skimpy and dishevelled -skin. - -“You--you--you _thief!_” said the old man. - -“I’m not a thief,” said William, “I’m a Nanshunt----” - -But the old man made a dash at him and William dodged and fled out -of the doorway. Ginger was already half-way downstairs. The old man -was delayed, first by the door, which William banged in his face, and -secondly by the fact that he slipped on the top stair and rolled down -to the bottom. - -[Illustration: WILLIAM DASHED FOR THE DOORWAY, UPSETTING THE OLD -GENTLEMAN ON HIS WAY.] - -There he sat up, looked for his spectacles, found them, adjusted them -and gazed round the hall, still seated on the hall mat. The two boys -were nowhere to be seen. Muttering “Dear! Dear!” and “Bless my soul! -Let me see, what was it I wanted?--Ah, a handkerchief!” the old man -began to ascend the stairs. - - * * * * * - -But William and Ginger had not gone out of the front door. A group of -Ginger’s mother’s friends could be plainly seen passing the little -gateway, and in panic William and Ginger had dashed out of the back -door into the little garden, and into the corrugated iron building. A -lady, dressed in an artist’s smock, a paint brush in her hand, looked -up from an easel. - -[Illustration: THE OLD GENTLEMAN LANDED ON TOP OF THE CANVAS AND SAT -THERE MURMURING, “OH, DEAR! OH, DEAR!”] - -“Please don’t come in quite so roughly,” she said disapprovingly. -“I don’t like rough little boys.” She looked William up and down, -and her disapproval seemed to deepen. “Well,” she said stiffly, “it -doesn’t seem to me _quite_ the costume. I should have thought the -Vicar---- However, you’d better stay now you’ve come. Is the other -little boy your friend? He must sit down quite quietly and not disturb -us. You may just look at the picture first for a treat.” Bewildered, -but ready to oblige her, William wandered round and looked at it. It -seemed to consist of a chaos of snow and polar bears. - -“It’s to be called The Frozen North,” she said proudly. “Now you must -stand in the attitude of one drawing a sleigh--so--no, the expression -more _gentle_, please. I must say I do _not_ care for the costume, but -the Vicar must know----” - -“I’m a Nanshunt----” began William, then decided to take the line of -least resistance and be the Frozen North. The lady painted in silence -for some time, occasionally looking at William’s rather mangy skin, and -saying disapprovingly: “No, I must _say_--I do _not_--but, of course, -the Vicar----” - -Just as the charm of novelty was disappearing from the procedure, and -he was devising means of escape, another lady came in. - -“Busy, dear?” she said, then she adjusted her lorgnettes, and she, too, -looked disapprovingly at William. - -“My dear!” she said. “Isn’t that rather---- Well, of course, I know you -artists are--well, Bohemian and all that, but----” - -The artist looked worried. - -“My dear,” she said, “I showed the Vicar the picture yesterday, and he -said that he had a child’s Esquimo costume, and he’d find a boy to fit -in and send it round for a model. But--I’d an idea that the esquimos -dressed more--er--more _completely_ than that, hadn’t you?” - -“I’m a Nanshunt----” began William, and stopped again. - -“You remember Mrs. Parks asking for money to buy clothes for her boy?” -went on the artist as she painted. “Well, I got John to go to that -Sale of Work this afternoon and get a suit from the rummage stall, -and he got quite a good suit, and I’ve just sent it round to her. Do -stand _still_, little boy--You know, dear, I wish I felt happier about -this--er--costume. Yet I feel I ought not to criticise and even in my -mind, anything the dear Vicar----” - -“Well, I’ll be quite frank,” said the visitor. “I don’t care for -it--and I do think that artists can’t be too careful--any suggestion of -the nude is so--well, don’t you agree with me? I’m _surprised_ at the -Vicar.” - -The artist held out half a crown to William. - -“You may go,” she said coldly. “Take the costume back to the Vicar, and -I _don’t_ think I shall require you again.” - -At that moment the little old man came in. He started as his eye fell -on William and Ginger. - -“The _thief!_” he said excitedly. “The _thief!_ Catch him, catch him, -_catch_ him!” - -William dashed to the doorway, upsetting the old man and a wet canvas -on his way. The old man landed on top of the canvas and sat there -murmuring, “Oh, dear, oh dear, what a day!” and looking for his glasses. - -The visitor pursued the two of them half-heartedly to the gate, and -then returned to help in the work of separating the old gentleman from -the wet canvas. - - * * * * * - -William and Ginger sat in a neighbouring ditch and looked at each other -breathlessly. - -“Parks,” said Ginger, “that’s the shop at the end of the village.” - -“Yes,” said William, “an’ I’m jus’ about sick of crawlin’ in ditches, -an’ what’s wrong with it I’d like to know,” he went on, looking down -indignantly at his limp skin, “it’s all right--not as clothes--but as -a kind of dress-up thing it’s all right--as good as that ole pinnyfore -_she_ was wearing, an’ I jolly nearly said so--an’ ‘thief,’ too. Well, -I wun’t go inside that house again, not if--not if--not if they _asked_ -me--Anyway,” his expression softened, “anyway, I got half a crown,” his -expression grew bitter once more, “half a crown, an’ not even a pocket -to put it in. Come on to Parks’.” - -William returned to the ditch. They only passed a little girl and her -small brother. - -“Look, Algy,” said the little girl, “look at ’im. ’E’s a loony an’ the -other’s ’is keeper. ’E thinks ’e’s a frog, prob’ly, an’ that’s why ’e -goes in ditches, an’ doesn’t wear no clothes.” - -William straightened himself. - -“I’m a Nanshunt----” he began, but at sight of his red and muddy face, -surmounted by its crest of muddy hair, the little girl fled screaming. - -“Come on, Algy, ’e’ll get yer an’ eat yer if yer don’t----” - -Algy’s screams reinforced hers, and William disconsolately returned to -the ditch as the screams, still lusty, faded into the distance. - -“I’m jus’ getting a bit sick of this,” muttered the Ancient Briton. - - * * * * * - -They reached Parks’. William lay concealed behind the hedge, and Ginger -wandered round the shop, reconnoitring. - -“Go in!” goaded William, in a hoarse whisper from the hedge. “Go in an’ -gettem. Say you’ll fetch a policeman--_make_ ’em give ’em you--_fight_ -’em--_take_ ’em--_you_ lettem go--I can’t stand this much longer. I’m -cold an’ I’m wet. I feel as if I’d been a Nanshunt Briton for years an’ -years--hurry up--Are-you-goin’-to-get-me-my-_clothes?_” - -“Oh, shut _up!_” said Ginger miserably. “I’m doin’ all I can.” - -“Doin’ all you can, are you? Well, you’re not doin’ much but walkin’ -round an’ round the shop. D’you think ’f you go on walkin’ round and -round the shop my clothes’ll come out of themselves--come _walkin’_ out -to you? ’Cause if you think that----” - -“Shut _up_.” - -At this moment a small boy walked out of the shop. - -“Hallo!” said Ginger, with a fatuous smile of friendship. - -“Hallo!” said the boy, ungraciously. - -Ginger moistened his lips and repeated the fatuous smile. - -“Have you got any new clothes to-day?” - -The boy gave a fairly good imitation of the fatuous smile. - -“No,” he said, “have you? Don’t go spoilin’ your fice for me. It’s -bee-utiful, but don’t waste it on me.” - -Then, whistling, he prepared to walk away from Ginger down the road. -Desperately Ginger stopped him. - -“I’ll--I’ll--I’ll give you,” he swallowed, then, with an effort, made -the nobler offer. “I’ll give you five shillings if----” - -“Yus?” said the boy suddenly, “if----?” - -“If you’ll give me those clothes the lady wot paints sent you to-day.” - -“Gimme the five shillings then.” - -“I won’t give you the money till you give me the clothes.” - -“Oh, won’t you? Well, I won’t give you the clothes till you give me the -money.” - -They stared hostilely at each other. - -“Get my clothes,” said the irate voice from the ditch. “Punch him--do -anythin’ to him. Get--my--clothes.” - -The boy looked round with interest into the ditch. - -“Look at ’im!” he shrieked mirthfully. “Look at ’im. _Na_kid--jus’ -dressed in a muff--Oh! look at ’im.” - -William arose with murder in his face. Ginger hastily pressed the five -shillings into the boy’s hand. - -“Gettem quick,” he said. - -The boy retreated to the shop and closed the door except for a small -crack. Through that crack he shouted, “We din’ want no narsty, mangy, -mouldy, cast-off clothes from no one. We gived ’em to Johnsons up the -village.” - -Then he banged the door. - -William, in fury, kicked the door, and a crowd of small boys collected. -William, perceiving them, fled through the hedge and into the field. -The small boys followed, uttering derisive cries. - -“_Look_ at ’im--_Look_ at ’im--’e’s a cannibal--he’s got no -clothes--’e’s out of a circus--’e’s balmy--’e’s wearin’ ’is mother’s -fur.” - -William turned on them in fury. - -“I’m a Nanshunt----” he began, rushing upon them; and they fled in -panic. - -William and Ginger sat down behind a haystack. - -“Well, you’re very clever at gettin’ back my clothes, aren’t you?” said -William with heavy sarcasm. - -“I’m gettin’ jus’ about sick of your clothes,” said Ginger gloomily. - -“Sick of ’em?” echoed William. “I only wish I’d gottem to be sick of. -I’m jus’ about sick of not havin’ ’em an’ walkin’ about on prickles -an’ stones and scratchin’ myself an’ shiverin’ with cold. That boy’d -jus’ better wait till I _get_ my clothes an’ then----” His eyes gleamed -darkly with visions of future vengeance. - -“Well,” he turned to Ginger, “an’ wot we goin’ to do now?” - -“Dunno,” said Ginger despondently. - -“Well, where’s Johnsons?” - -“Mrs. Johnson’s my aunt’s charwoman,” said Ginger, wearily. “I know -where she lives.” - -William rose with a determined air. - -“Come on,” he said. - -“If we don’t gettem this time,” said Ginger, as they started on their -furtive journey, “I’m going home.” - -“Oh, are you,” said William sternly. “Well, then, you’re goin’ in this -Anshunt Briton thing an’ I’m goin’ in your clothes. You lost my clothes -an’ if you can’t gettem back you can give me yours, that’s fair, isn’t -it?” - -“Oh, shut _up_,” said Ginger, in the tone of one who has suffered -all that it is possible to suffer and can suffer no more. “It’s that -five shillings that I keep thinkin’ of--_five shillin’s_--an’ all for -nothin’.” - -“An’ callin’ my clothes mouldy,” said William, with equal indignation. -“_My_ clothes mouldy.” - -“She lives here,” said Ginger. - -From the shelter of a hedge they watched the house. - -“You’d better go an’ gettem then,” said William unfeelingly. - -“_How?_” said Ginger. - -“Well, you sold ’em.” - -“I _didn’t_ sell ’em.” - -“Sh! Look!” - -The door of the Johnson’s home was opening. A small boy came out. - -“He’s dressed in my clothes,” said William excitedly. -“_Gettem_--_Gettim_--my clothes.” His eye brightened, and into his face -came a radiant look as of one beholding some dear friend after a long -absence. “My clothes.” - -Ginger advanced to the small boy and smiled his anxious, fatuous, -mirthless smile. - -“Like to come an’ play with me?” he said. - -“Yeth, pleath,” said the boy, returning the friendly smile. - -“Well, you can come with me,” said Ginger, ingratiatingly. - -He followed Ginger through the stile, and gave a shout of derision when -he saw William crouching behind the hedge. “Oh! _Look_ at ’im,” he -said, “dressed up funny.” - -A masterly plan had come into William’s head. He led the party to the -next field, to the disused barn which, in their normal happy life that -now seemed to him so far away, served as castle or pirate ship. - -“Now,” he said, “we’re goin’ to play at soldiers, an’ you come an’ say -you wanter join the army----” - -“But I don’t,” said the small boy solemnly. “That would be a thtory.” - -“Never mind,” said William patiently. “You must pretend you want to -join the army. Then you must take off your clothes and leave ’em with -me, and this boy will pretend to be the doctor, an’ he’ll tell you if -you’re strong enough, you know; he’ll look at your lungs and things and -then--and then--well, that’s all. Now I’ll give you the half-crown jus’ -for a present if you play it prop’ly.” - -“All right,” said the boy brightly, beginning to take off his coat. - -“You’ve got bad lungs, an’ a bad heart, an’ bad legs, an’ bad arms, an’ -bad ears, an’ a bad head,” said the doctor, “an’ I’m _afraid_ you can’t -be a soldier.” - -“All right,” said the boy brightly. “Don’ wanter be. Now I’ll put on my -clothes.” - -He came out to the back of the barn, where he had left his clothes, and -burst into a howl. - -“Oo--oo--oo--’e’s tooken my clothes--tooken my clothes--’e’s tooken my -clothes. Ma! _Ma!_ _Ma!_ ’E’s tooken my clothes.” - -His shirt fluttering in the wind, he went howling down the road. - -Ginger went to the ditch whence William’s gesticulating arms could be -seen. - -“Quick! William, quick!” gasped Ginger. - -William arose, holding his Ancient Briton costume in his hand. He was -clothed in a tweed suit--a very, very small tweed suit--the waistcoat -would not button across him and the sleeve came only a little way -below his elbow. - -“William!” gasped Ginger. “It’s not yours.” - -William’s face was pale with horror. - -“It looked like mine,” he said in a sepulchral voice, “but it’s not -mine.” - -A babel of voices arose. - -“Where are they, lovey?” - -“Boo--hoo--they’ve tooken my clothes.” - -“Wait till I gettem, that’s all.” - -“Never mind, darlin’. Ma’ll learn ’em.” - -With grim despair they saw what seemed to them an army of women running -up the hill, and with them a howling boy in a fluttering shirt. One of -the women carried a broom. - -“_Run_, William!” gasped Ginger. - -William flung his skin into the ditch and ran. Though his suit was -so tight that he could only progress in little leaps and bounds, he -progressed with remarkable speed. - - * * * * * - -At last, exhausted and breathless, he walked round to the side entrance -of his home and stood in the hall. He could hear his mother’s voice -from the drawing room. - -“Miss Carter’s been ringing up all the afternoon,” she was saying, “she -seems to think that William took away one of the costumes after the -rehearsal. I told her that I was sure William wouldn’t do such a thing.” - -“My dear,” in his father’s voice, “you do make the most rash -statements.” - -William entered slowly. His father and mother and sister turned and -stared at him in silence. - -“William!” gasped his mother. “What _are_ you wearing?” - -William made a desperate effort to carry off the situation. - -“You know--everyone says how fast I’m growin’--I keep growin’ out of my -things----” - -“Mother!” screamed Ethel, from the window, “there’s a lot of awful -women coming through the gate and an awful little boy in a shirt!” - - * * * * * - -William was brushed and combed and dressed in his best suit. His -week-day suit had been, with great trouble and at great expense, -brought back from Mrs. Johnson, and taken from the person of her eldest -son, and was now being disinfected from any possible germ which might -have infested the person of her eldest son. - -Mrs. Johnson and her indignant younger son had been, with great -difficulty and also at great expense, soothed and appeased. - -William had eaten the bread and water considered, in the circumstances, -a suitable meal for the prodigal son, with that inward fury, but with -that outward appearance of intense enjoyment that he always fondly -imagined made his family feel foolish. - -He was not to leave the garden again that day. He was to go to bed -an hour before his usual time, but that left him now half an hour to -dispose of in the garden. Through the window William could see his -father reclining in a deck-chair and reading the evening paper. William -considered that his father had that evening shown himself conspicuously -lacking in tact and sympathy and generosity, but William did not bear -malice, and he knew that such qualities are not to be expected in -grown-ups. Moreover, his father was the only human being within sight, -and William felt disinclined for active pursuits. He went out to his -father and sat down on the grass in front of him. - -“Oh, about that man wot had his legs bit off by a shark, father, wot I -promised to tell you about--well, it begins when he starts out in the -Ship of Mystery----” - -William’s father tried to continue to read his paper. Finding it -impossible, he folded it up. - -“One minute, William, how long is there before you go to bed?” - -“Only about half an hour,” said William reproachfully. “But I can tell -you quite a lot in that time, an’ I can go on to-morrow if I don’t -finish it. You’ll _like_ it--Ginger’n me liked it awfully. Well, he -starts off in the Ship of Mystery, an’ why it’s called the Ship of -Mystery is because every night there’s ghostly moanin’s an’ rattlin’s -of chains, an’ one day the man wot the tale’s about went down to get -something he’d forgot in the middle of the night, an’ he saw a norful -figure dressed in a long black cloak, with gleamin’ eyes, and jus’ as -he was runnin’ away it put out a norful skinny hand, an’ said in a -norful voice----” - -William’s father looked wildly round for escape, and saw none. - -Nemesis had overtaken him. With a groan he gave himself up for lost, -and William, already thrilled to his very soul by his story, the -memories of his exciting day already dim, pursued his ruthless recital. - - -THE END - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - Italics are shown thus: _sloping_. - - Small capitals have been capitalised. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained. - - Punctuation has been retained as published. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM—THE FOURTH *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - - -<h1>WILLIAM—THE FOURTH</h1> - - -<p class="c"><i>By the Same Author</i></p> - -<table cellspacing="0"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(1)</td> -<td class="tdl">JUST WILLIAM</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(2)</td> -<td class="tdl">MORE WILLIAM</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(3)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM AGAIN</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(4)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE FOURTH</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(5)</td> -<td class="tdl">STILL—WILLIAM</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(6)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE CONQUEROR</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(7)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE OUTLAW</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(8)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—IN TROUBLE</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(9)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE GOOD</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(10)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(11)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE BAD</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(12)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM’S HAPPY DAYS</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(13)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM’S CROWDED HOURS</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(14)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE PIRATE</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(15)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE REBEL</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(16)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE GANGSTER</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(17)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE DETECTIVE</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(18)</td> -<td class="tdl">SWEET WILLIAM</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(19)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE SHOWMAN</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(20)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE DICTATOR</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(21)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM AND A.R.P.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(22)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM AND THE EVACUEES</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(23)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM DOES HIS BIT</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(24)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM CARRIES ON</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(25)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM AND THE BRAINS TRUST</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(26)</td> -<td class="tdl">JUST WILLIAM’S LUCK</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(27)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM—THE BOLD</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">(28)</td> -<td class="tdl">WILLIAM AND THE TRAMP</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr"></td> -<td class="tdl">——————————</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr"></td> -<td class="tdl">JIMMY</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr"></td> -<td class="tdl">JIMMY AGAIN</td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<div class="figcenter1"> -<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="c">“YOU CAN LOOK AT THE ALBUM WHILE I AM GETTING<br /> -READY.” WILLIAM WAS TRAPPED, TRAPPED IN A HUGE<br /> -AND HORRIBLE DRAWING-ROOM, BY A HUGE AND<br /> -HORRIBLE WOMAN.</p> -<p class="r">(<i>See page 38.</i>)</p> -</div> - - -<p class="c xxxlarge gesperrt p2"> -WILLIAM—THE<br /> -FOURTH</p> - -<p class="c p4"> -BY</p> - -<p class="c xlarge"> -RICHMAL CROMPTON</p> - -<p class="c p4"> -ILLUSTRATED BY</p> - -<p class="c"> -THOMAS HENRY</p> - -<p class="c p6"> -LONDON</p> - -<p class="c xxlarge"> -GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED</p> - -<p class="c"> -TOWER HOUSE, SOUTHAMPTON STREET</p> - -<p class="c"> -STRAND, W.C. 2 -</p> - - -<p class="c p6 p4d"> -<i>Copyright</i><br /> -<i>All Rights Reserved</i></p> - -<p class="c"><i>First Published</i> <i>1924</i></p> - - - - - -<p class="c p6"> -<i>Printed in Great Britain by<br /> -Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London, Fakenham and Reading</i> -</p> - - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2">CONTENTS</p> -</div> - -<table cellpadding="2"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc"><span class="tiny">CHAPTER</span></td> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr"><span class="tiny">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Weak Spot</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">13</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William and Photography</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">28</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fête—and Fortune</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">42</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William All the Time</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">59</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Aunt Jane’s Treat</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">75</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI.</td> -<td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Kidnappers</span>”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">89</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William’s Evening Out</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">108</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Advertises</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">124</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William and the Black Cat</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">143</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">X.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William the Showman</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">158</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XI.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William’s Extra Day</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">175</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XII.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Enters Politics</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">195</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIII.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">William Makes a Night of It</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">210</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIV.</td> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Dress Rehearsal</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">227</a></td> -</tr> - - - -</table> - -<p class="c p2"> -<span class="little">TO</span><br /> -GWEN</p> - -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">THE WEAK SPOT</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">“YOU see,” said Jameson Jameson, “we’re all -human beings. That’s a very important point. -You must admit that we’re all human beings?”</p> - -<p>Jameson Jameson, aged nineteen and three-quarters, -was very eloquent. He paused more for rhetorical -effect than because he really needed confirmation on -the point. His audience, all under nineteen, agreed -hoarsely and unanimously.</p> - -<p>They were all human beings. They admitted it.</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” Jameson continued, warming to his -subject, “as human beings we’re equal. As being -equal we’ve got equal rights, I suppose. Anyone -deny that?”</p> - -<p>Robert Brown, aged seventeen, in whose room the -meeting took place, leaned forward eagerly. He was -thoroughly enjoying the meeting. The only drawback -was the presence of his younger brother, William, -aged eleven. By some mistake someone had admitted -William, and by some still greater mistake no one had -ejected him; and now it was too late. He gave no -excuse for ejection. He was sitting motionless, his -hands on his knees, his eyes, under their untidy shock -of hair, glued on the speaker, his mouth wide open. -There was no doubt at all that he was impressed. But -Robert wished he wasn’t there. He felt that the -presence of a kid was an insult to the mature intelligences<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -round him, most of whom were in their first -year at college.</p> - -<p>But no one seemed to mind, so he contented himself -with sitting so that he could not see William.</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Jameson Jameson, “then why -aren’t we equal? Why are some rich and some poor? -Why do some work and others not? Tell me that.”</p> - -<p>There was no answer—only a gasp of wonder and -admiration.</p> - -<p>Jameson Jameson (whose parents had perpetrated -on him the supreme practical joke of giving him his -surname for a Christian name, so that people who -addressed him by his full name always seemed to be -indulging in some witticism) brought down his fist -upon the table with a bang.</p> - -<p>“Then it’s somebody’s duty to make us equal. It’s -only common justice, isn’t it? You admit that? -Those who haven’t money must be given money, and -those who have too much must have some taken off -them. We want Equality. And no more Tyranny. -The working-class must have Freedom. And who’s -going to do it?”</p> - -<p>He thrust his hand into his coat front in a manner -reminiscent of the late Mr. Gladstone and glared at -his audience from under scowling brows.</p> - -<p>“Ah, who?” gasped the audience.</p> - -<p>“It’s here that the Bolshevists come in!”</p> - -<p>“Bolshevists?” said Robert, aghast.</p> - -<p>“The Bolshevists are very much misjudged and—er—maligned,” -retorted Jameson Jameson, with emotion. -“Shamefully misjudged and——” he wasn’t sure -whether he’d pronounced it right, so he ended feebly, -“what I said before. I’m not,” he admitted frankly, -“in direct communication with Lenin, but I’ve read<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -about it in a magazine, and I know a bit about it from -that. The Bolshevists want to share things out so -as we’re equal, and that’s only right, isn’t it? ’Cause -we’re all human beings, and as such are equal, and -as such have equal rights. Well, that’s clear, isn’t -it? Does anyone,” he glared round fiercely, “wish to -contradict me?”</p> - -<p>No one did. William, who was sitting in a draught, -sneezed and was annihilated by a glance from Robert.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he continued, “I propose to form a Bolshevist -Society, first of all, just to start with. You see, -the Bolshevists have gone to extremes, but we’ll join -the Bolshevist party and—and purge it of all where -it’s wrong now. Now, who’ll join the Society?”</p> - -<p>As human beings with equal rights they were all -anxious to join. They were all fired to the soul by -Jameson Jameson’s eloquence. Even William pressed -onward to give in his name, but was sternly ordered -away by Robert.</p> - -<p>“But I believe all you do,” he pleaded wistfully, -“’bout want’n other people’s money an’ thinking we -oughtn’t to work.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve misunderstood me, my young friend,” said -Jameson Jameson, with a sigh, “but we want numbers. -There’s no reason why——”</p> - -<p>“If that kid belongs, I’m not going to,” said Robert -firmly.</p> - -<p>“We might have a Junior Branch——” suggested -one of them.</p> - -<p>So thus it was finally settled. William became the -Junior Branch of the Society of Reformed Bolshevists. -Alone he was President and Secretary and Committee -and Members. He resented any suggestion of enlarging -the Junior Branch. He preferred to form the Branch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -himself. He held meetings of his Branch under the -laurel bushes in the garden, and made eloquent speeches -to an audience consisting of a few depressed daffodil -roots, and sometimes the cat from next door.</p> - -<p>“All gotter be equal,” he pronounced fiercely, “all -gotter have lots of money. All ’uman beings. That’s -<i>sense</i>, isn’t it? Is it <i>sense</i> or isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The cat from next door scratched its ear and slowly -winked.</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>then</i>,” said William, “someone ought to <i>do</i> -somethin’.”</p> - -<p>The Society of Advanced Bolshevists met next -month in Robert’s room. William had left nothing -to chance. He had heard Robert saying that he’d see -no kids got in to this one, so he installed himself under -Robert’s bed before anyone arrived. Robert looked -round the room with a keen and threatening gaze -before he ushered Jameson Jameson into the chair, or, -to be more accurate, on to the bed. The meeting -began.</p> - -<p>“Comrades,” began Jameson Jameson, “we have, -I hope, all spent this time in thinking things out and -making ourselves more devoted to the cause. But -now is the time for action. We’ve got to <i>do</i> something. -If we had any money ’cept the mean bit that -our fathers allow us we could make people jolly well -sit up—we could——”</p> - -<p>Here William, who had just inhaled a large mouthful -of dust, sneezed loudly, and Robert made a dive -beneath the bed. In the scuffle that ensued William -embedded his teeth deeply into Jameson Jameson’s -ankle, and vengeance was vowed on either side.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig2.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM MADE ELOQUENT SPEECHES TO AN AUDIENCE<br /> -OF DEPRESSED DAFFODIL ROOTS AND THE CAT FROM<br /> -NEXT DOOR.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Well, why can’t I come? I’m a Bolshevist too -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>like wot all you are!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, you’ve got a Branch of your own,” said -Robert fiercely.</p> - -<p>Jameson Jameson was still standing on one leg and -holding the other in two hands with an expression of -(fortunately) speechless agony on his face.</p> - -<p>“Look!” went on Robert, “you may have maimed -him for life for all you know, and he’s the life and soul -of the Cause, and what can he do with a maimed -foot? You’ll have to keep him all his life if he is -maimed for life, and when the Bolshevists get in power -he’ll have your blood—and I shan’t mind,” he added, -darkly.</p> - -<p>Jameson Jameson gave a feeble smile.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Comrade,” he said, “I harbour no -thoughts of vengeance. I hope I can bear more than -this for the Cause.”</p> - -<p>Very ungently William was deposited on the landing -outside.</p> - -<p>“You can keep your nasty little Branch to yourself, -and don’t come bothering us,” was Robert’s parting -shot.</p> - -<p>It was then that William realised the power of -numbers. He resolved at once to enlarge his Branch.</p> - -<p>Rubbing the side on which he had descended on the -landing, and frowning fiercely, he went downstairs and -out into the road. Near the gate was Victor Jameson, -Jameson Jameson’s younger brother, gazing up at -Robert’s bedroom window, which could be seen through -the trees.</p> - -<p>“He’s up there talkin’,” he muttered scornfully. -“Doesn’t he <i>talk</i>?”</p> - -<p>The tone of contempt was oil on the troubled waters -of William’s feelings.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just bit him hard,” he said modestly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> - -<p>The two linked arms affectionately and set off down -the road. At the corner of the road they fell in with -George Bell. William had left Ronald Bell, George’s -elder brother, leaning against the mantelpiece in -Robert’s room and examining himself in the glass. He -was letting his hair grow long, and he hoped it was -beginning to show.</p> - -<p>“What do they <i>do</i> up at your house?” demanded -George with curiosity. “He won’t tell me anything. -He says it’s secret. He says no one’s got to know -now, but all the world will know some day. That’s -what he <i>says</i>.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Huh</i>,” said Victor scornfully, “they <i>talk</i>. That’s -all they do. They <i>talk</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s find a few more,” said William, “an’ I’ll -tell you all about it.”</p> - -<p>It being Saturday afternoon they soon collected the -few more, and the company returned to the summer-house -at the end of William’s garden. The company -consisted chiefly of younger brothers of the members -of the gathering upstairs.</p> - -<p>William rose to address them with one hand inside -his coat in an attitude copied faithfully from Jameson -Jameson.</p> - -<p>“They’ve gotter ole society,” he said, “an’ they’ve -made me a Branch, so I can make all you Branches. -So, now you’re all Branches. See? Well, they say -how we’re all ’uman bein’s an’ equal. Well, they say -if we’re equal we oughtn’t to have less money an’ -things than other folks, and more work to do, an’ all -that. That’s wot I heard ’em say.”</p> - -<p>Here the cat from next door, drawn by the familiar -sound of William’s voice, peered into the summer-house, -and was promptly dismissed by a well-aimed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -stick. It looked reproachfully at William as it -departed.</p> - -<p>“And to-day they said,” went on William, “that -now is the time for <i>Action</i>, an’ how we’d only the mean -bit of money our fathers gave us; and then they found -me an’ I bit his leg, and they threw me out, an’ I -bet I’ve got a big ole bruise on my side, an’ I bet -he’s got a bigger ole bite on his leg.”</p> - -<p>He sat down, amid applause, and George, acting with -a generosity born of a sudden feeling of comradeship, -took a stick of rock from his pocket and passed it round -for a suck each. This somewhat disturbed the harmony -of the meeting, as “Ginger,” William’s oldest -friend, was accused of biting a piece off, and the -explanation, that it “came off in his mouth,” was not -accepted by the irate owner, who was already regretting -his generosity. The combatants were parted by -William, and peace was sealed by the passing round of -a bottle of liquorice water belonging to Victor Jameson.</p> - -<p>Then William rose for a second speech.</p> - -<p>“Well, we’re all Branches, so let’s do same as them. -They’re goin’ to get equal cause they’re ’uman bein’s; -so let’s try and get equal too.”</p> - -<p>“Equal with what?” demanded Douglas, whose elder -brother had joined Jameson Jameson’s society, and had -secretly purchased a red tie, which he did not dare -to wear in public, but which he donned behind a tree -on his way to William’s house, and doffed in the same -place on his way from William’s house.</p> - -<p>“Equal to <i>them</i>,” said William. “Why, just think -of the things they’ve got. They’ve got lots of money, -haven’t they?—lots more than what we have, an’ -they can buy anything they want, an’ they stay up -for dinner always, and go out late at night, an’ eat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -what they want with no one sayin’ had they better, -or cert’nly not, or what happened last time, an’ they -smoke an’ don’t go to school, an’ go to the pictures, -an’ they’ve got lots more things ’n we’ve got—bicycles -an’ grammerphones, an’ fountain-pens, an’ watches, an’ -things what we’ve not got. Well, an’ we’re ’uman -beings, too, an’ we ought to be equal, an’ why shun’t -we be equal?—an’ now’s the time for <i>Action!</i> They -said so.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig3.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">... AN’ WE’RE ’UMAN BEINGS, TOO, AN’ WE OUGHT TO<br /> -BE EQUAL, AN’ WHY SHUN’T WE BE EQUAL?...”</p> -</div> - -<p>There was a silence.</p> - -<p>“But——” said Douglas slowly, “we can’t just <i>take</i> -things, can we?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said William, “we <i>can</i> if we’re Bolshevists. -They said so. An’ we’re all Bolshevist Branches.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -They made me, an’ I made you. See? So we can -take anything to make us equal. See? We’ve got -to be equal.”</p> - -<p>Here the meeting was stopped by the spectacle of -the Senior Bolshevists issuing from the side door -wearing frowns of stern determination. Douglas’s -brother fingered his red tie ostentatiously; Ronald -pulled down his cap over his eyes with the air of a -conspirator; Jameson Jameson limped slightly and -smiled patiently and forgivingly upon Robert, who was -still apologising for William. The words that were -wafted across to listening ears upon the Spring breeze -were: “Next Tuesday, then.”</p> - -<p>Then the Branches turned to a discussion of details. -They were nothing if not practical. After about a -quarter of an hour they departed, each pulling his -cap over his eye and frowning. As they departed -they murmured: “Next Tuesday, then.”</p> - -<p>Next Tuesday dawned bright and clear, with no hint -that it was one of those days on which the world’s fate -is decided.</p> - -<p>The Senior Bolshevists met in the morning. They -discussed the possibility of getting into touch with -Lenin, but no one knew his exact address, or the rate -of postage to Russia, so no definite step was taken.</p> - -<p>During the afternoon Robert followed his father into -the library. His face was set and stern.</p> - -<p>“Look here, father,” he said, “we’ve been thinking—some -of us. Things don’t seem fair. We’re all -human beings. It’s time for action. We’ve all agreed -to speak to our fathers to-day and point things out -to them. They’ve been misjudged and maligned, but -we’re going to purge them of all that. You see, we’re -all human beings, and it’s time for action. We’re all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -agreed on that. We’ve got equal rights, because we’re -all human beings.”</p> - -<p>He paused, inserted a finger between his neck and -collar as if he found its pressure intolerable, then -smoothed back his hair. He was looking almost -apoplectic.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether I make my meaning clear,” -he began again.</p> - -<p>“You don’t, old chap, whatever it may be,” said -his father soothingly. “Perhaps you feel the heat?—or -the Spring? You ought to take something cooling, -and then lie down for a few hours.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand,” said Robert desperately. -“It’s life or death to civilisation. You see, we’re all -human beings, and all equal, and we’ve got equal -rights, and yet some have all the things, and some -have none. You see, we thought we’d all start at home -and get things made more fair there, and our fathers -to divide up the money more fairly and give us our -real share, and then we could go round teaching other -people to give things up to other people and share -things out more fairly. You see, we must begin at -home, and then we start fair. We’re all human beings -with equal rights.”</p> - -<p>“You’re so very modest in your demands,” said -Robert’s father. “Would half be enough for you? -Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little more?”</p> - -<p>Robert waved the suggestion aside.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “you see, you have the others to -keep. But we’ve all decided to ask our fathers to-day, -then we can start fair and have some funds to go on. -A society without funds seems to be so handicapped. -And it would be an example to other fathers all over -the world. You see——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> - -<p>At this moment Robert’s mother came in.</p> - -<p>“What a mess your room’s in, Robert! I hope -William hasn’t been rummaging in it.”</p> - -<p>Robert turned pale.</p> - -<p>“William!” he gasped, and fled to investigate.</p> - -<p>He returned in a few minutes, almost inarticulate -with fury.</p> - -<p>“My watch!” he said. “My purse! Both gone! -I’m going after him.”</p> - -<p>He seized his hat from the hall, and started to the -door. His father watched him, leaning easily against -the doorpost of the library, and smiling.</p> - -<p>From the garden as he passed came a wail.</p> - -<p>“My bicycle! Gone too. The shed’s empty!”</p> - -<p>In the road he met Jameson Jameson.</p> - -<p>“Burglars!” said Jameson Jameson. “All my -money’s been taken. And my camera! The wretches! -I’m going to scour the country for them.”</p> - -<p>Various other members of the Bolshevist Society -appeared, filled with wrath and lamenting vanished -treasures.</p> - -<p>“It can’t be burglars,” said Robert, “because why -only us?”</p> - -<p>“Do you think someone in the Government found -out about us being Bolshevists and is trying to intimidate -us?”</p> - -<p>Jameson Jameson thought this very likely, and they -discussed it excitedly in the middle of the road, some -hatless, some hatted, all talking breathlessly. Then at -the other end of the road appeared a group of boys. -They were happy, rollicking boys. They all carried -bags of sweets which they ate lavishly and handed -round to their friends equally lavishly. One held a -camera—or the remains of a camera—whose mechanism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -the entire party had just been investigating. One -more had a large wrist-watch upon a small wrist. One -walked (or rather leapt) upon a silver-topped walking-stick. -One, the quietest of the group, was smoking a -cigarette. At the side near the ditch about half a -dozen rode intermittently upon a bicycle. The descent -of the bicycle and its cargo into the ditch was greeted -with roars of laughter. They were very happy boys. -They sang as they walked.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig4.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THEN AT THE OTHER END OF THE ROAD APPEARED A GROUP<br /> -OF BOYS. THEY WERE HAPPY, ROLLICKING BOYS.</p> -</div> - -<p>“We’ve been to the pictures.”</p> - -<p>“In the best seats.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> - -<p>“Bought lots of sweets and a mouth-organ.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got a bicycle, an’ a camera, an’ two watches, -an’ a fountain-pen, an’ a razor, an’ a football, an’ lots -of things.”</p> - -<p>White with fury, the Senior Bolshevists charged -down upon them. The Junior Bolshevists stood their -ground firmly, with the exception of the one who had -been smoking a cigarette, and he, perforce a coward -for physical rather than moral reasons, crept quietly -home, relinquishing without reluctance his half-smoked -cigarette. In the Homeric battle that followed, -accusations and justifications were hurled to and fro -as the struggle proceeded.</p> - -<p>“You beastly little thieves!”</p> - -<p>“You said to be equal, an’ why should some people -have all the things!”</p> - -<p>“You little wretches!”</p> - -<p>“We’re ’uman beings an’ got to <i>take</i> things to make -equal. You <i>said</i> so.”</p> - -<p>“Give it back to me!”</p> - -<p>“Why should you have it an’ not me? It was time -for Action, you said.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve <i>spoilt</i> it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s as much mine as yours. We’ve got equal -rights. We’re all ’uman beings.”</p> - -<p>But the battle was one-sided, and the Junior Branch, -having surrendered their booty and received punishment, -fled in confusion. The Senior Branch, bending -lovingly and sadly over battered treasures, walked -slowly and silently up the road.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>“About your Society——” began Mr. Brown after -dinner.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Robert, “it’s all off. We’ve given it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -up, after all. We don’t think there’s much in it, after -all. None of us do, now. We feel quite different.”</p> - -<p>“But you were so enthusiastic about it this afternoon. -Sharing fairly, and all that sort of thing.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Robert. “That’s all very well. It’s all -right when you can get your share of other people’s -things, but when other people try to get their share -of your things, then it’s different.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Mr. Brown, “that’s the weak spot. -I’m glad you found it out.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM AND PHOTOGRAPHY</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">MRS. ADOLPHUS CRANE was William’s -mother’s second cousin and William’s godmother. -Among the many senseless institutions of -grown-up life the institutions of godmothers and godfathers -seemed to William the most senseless of all. -Moreover, Mrs. Adolphus Crane was rich and immensely -respectable—the last person whom Fate should have -selected as his godmother. Fortunately, she lived at -a distance, and so was spared the horrible spectacle -of William’s daily crimes. His meetings with her had -not been fortunate, so far, in spite of his family’s -earnest desire that he should impress her favourably.</p> - -<p>There had been that terrible meeting two months -ago. William was running a race with one of his -friends. It was quite a novel race invented by William. -The competitors each had their mouths full of water -and the one who could run the farthest without either -swallowing his load or discharging it, won. William -in the course of the race encountered Mrs. Adolphus -Crane, who was on her way to William’s house to pay -him a surprise visit. She recognised him and addressed -to him a kindly, affectionate remark. Of course, if -he had had time to think over the matter from all -points of view, he might have conceived the idea of -swallowing the water before he answered. But, as he -afterwards explained, he had no time to think. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -worst of it was that the painful incident was witnessed -by almost all William’s family from the drawing-room -window. Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s visit on that occasion -was a very short one. She seemed slightly distant. -It was felt strongly that something must be done -to win back her favour. William disclaimed all -responsibility.</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t help it. I <i>can’t</i> help it. I don’t mind. -Honestly I don’t mind if she doesn’t like me. Well, -I don’t mind if she doesn’t come again, either.”</p> - -<p>“But, William, she’s your godmother.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the goaded William. “I can’t help -<i>that</i>. I didn’t do <i>that</i>.”</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s birthday came, -William’s mother attacked him again.</p> - -<p>“You ought to give her something, William, you -know, especially after the way you treated her the -last time she came over.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve nothin’ to give her,” said William simply. -“She can have that book Uncle George gave me, if -she likes. Yes, she can have that.” He warmed to -the subject. “You know. The one about Ancient -Hist’ry. I don’t mind her having it a bit.”</p> - -<p>“But you haven’t read it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind not readin’ it,” said William -generously. “I—I’d like her to have it,” he went on.</p> - -<p>But it was Mrs. Brown who had the great inspiration.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have William’s photograph taken for her.”</p> - -<p>It was quite simple to say that, and it was quite -simple to make an appointment at the photographer’s, -but it was another matter to provide an escort for -him. Mrs. Brown happened to have a bad cold; Mr. -Brown was at the office; Robert, William’s grown-up -brother, flatly refused to go with him. So, after a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> -conversation that lasted almost an hour, William’s -elder sister Ethel was induced, mainly by bribery and -corruption, to go with William to the photographer’s. -But she took a friend with her to act as a buffer state.</p> - -<p>William, at the appointed hour, was in a state of -suppressed fury. To William the lowest depth of -humiliation was having his photograph taken. Mrs. -Brown had expended much honest toil upon him. -He had been washed and brushed and combed and -manicured till his spirits had sunk below zero. To -William, complete cleanliness was quite incompatible -with happiness. He had been encased in his “best -suit”—a thing of hard, unbending cloth; with that -horror of horrors, a stiff collar.</p> - -<p>“Won’t a jersey do?” he had asked plaintively. -“It’ll probably make me ill—give me a sort throat or -somethin’—this tight thing at my neck, an’ I wouldn’t -like to be ill—’cause of giving you trouble,” he ended -piously.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown was touched—she was the one being in -the world who never lost faith in William.</p> - -<p>“But you wear it every Sunday, dear,” she protested.</p> - -<p>“Sundays is different,” he said. “Everyone wears -silly things on Sundays—but, but s’pose I met someone -on my way there.” His horror was pathetic.</p> - -<p>“Well, you look very nice, dear. Where are your -gloves.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Gloves?</i>” he said indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Yes—to keep your hands clean till you get there.”</p> - -<p>“Is anyone goin’ to <i>give</i> me anythin’ for doin’ all -this?”</p> - -<p>She sighed.</p> - -<p>“No, dear. It’s to give pleasure to your godmother. -I know you like to give people pleasure.” William was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -silent cogitating over this entirely new aspect of his -character.</p> - -<p>He set off down the road with Ethel and her friend -Blanche. Bosom friends of his, with jerseys, with -normal dirty hands and faces, passed him and stared -at him in amazement.</p> - -<p>He acknowledged their presence only by a cold -stare. On ordinary days he was a familiar figure on -that road himself, also comfortably jerseyed and -gloriously dirty. He would then have greeted them -with a war-whoop and a friendly punch. But now he -was an outcast, a pariah, a thing apart—a boy in his -best clothes and kid gloves on an ordinary morning.</p> - -<p>The photographer was awaiting them. William returned -his smile of welcome with a scowl.</p> - -<p>“So this is our little friend?” said the photographer. -“And what is his name?”</p> - -<p>William grew purple.</p> - -<p>Ethel began to enjoy it.</p> - -<p>“Willie,” she said.</p> - -<p>Now, there were many insults that William had -learned to endure with outward equanimity, but this -was not one. Ethel knew perfectly well his feeling -with regard to the name “Willie.” It was a deliberate -revenge because she had to waste a whole morning on -him. Moreover, Ethel had various scores to wipe off -against William, and it was not often that she had -him entirely at her mercy.</p> - -<p>William growled. That is the only word that -describes the sound emitted.</p> - -<p>“Pretty name for a pretty boy,” commented the -photographer in sprightly vein.</p> - -<p>Ethel and Blanche gurgled. William, dark and -scowling, looked unspeakable things at them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> - -<p>“Come forward,” said the photographer invitingly. -“Any preparations? Fancy dress?”</p> - -<p>“I think not,” gurgled Ethel.</p> - -<p>“I have some nice costumes,” he persisted. “A little -page? Bubbles? But perhaps the hair is hardly -suitable. Cupid? I have some pretty wings and -drapery. But perhaps the little boy’s expression is -hardly—— No, I think not,” hastily, as he encountered -the fixed intensity of William’s scowling -gaze. “Remove the cap and gloves, my little chap.”</p> - -<p>He looked up and down William’s shining, immaculate -person. “Ah, very nice.”</p> - -<p>He waved Ethel and Blanche to a seat.</p> - -<p>“Now, my boy——”</p> - -<p>He waved the infuriated William to a rustic woodland -scene at the other end.</p> - -<p>“Now, stand just here. That’s right. No, not -quite so stiff—and—no, not quite so hunched up, my -little chap ... the hands resting carelessly ... one on -the hip, I think ... just easy and natural ... <i>that’s</i> -right ... but no, hardly. Relax the brow a little. -And—ah, no ... not a grimace ... it would spoil a -pretty picture ... the feet so ... and the head <i>so</i> -... the hair is slightly deranged ... that’s better.”</p> - -<p>Let it stand to William’s eternal credit that he -resisted the temptation to bite the photographer’s hand -as it strayed among his short locks. At last he was -posed and the photographer returned to the camera, -but during his return William moved feet, hands, and -head to an easier position. The photographer sighed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, he’s moved. William’s moved. What a pity! -We’ll have to begin all over again.”</p> - -<p>He returned to William, and very patiently he -rearranged William’s feet and hands and head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<p>“The toes turned out—not in, you see, Willie, and -the hands <i>so</i>, and the head slightly on one side ... -<i>so</i>, no, not right down on to the shoulder ... ah, -that’s right ... that’s sweet, a very pretty picture.”</p> - -<p>Ethel had retired hysterically behind a screen.</p> - -<p>The photographer returned to his camera. William -promptly composed his limbs more comfortably.</p> - -<p>“Ah, what a pity! Willie’s moved again. We shall -have to commence afresh.”</p> - -<p>He returned to William and again put his unwilling -head on one side, his hand upon his hip, and turned -William’s stout boots at a graceful angle.</p> - -<p>He returned. William was clinging doggedly to his -pose. Anything to put an end to this torture.</p> - -<p>“Ah, right,” commented the photographer. -“Splendid! Ve-ry pretty. The head just a lee-eetle -more on one side. The expression a lee-eetle less—melancholy. -A smile, please—just a lee-eetle smile. -Ah, no,” hastily, as William savagely bared his teeth, -“perhaps it is better without the smile.” Suppressed -gurgles came from behind the screen where Ethel -clung helplessly to Blanche. “One more, please. -<i>Sitting</i>, I think, this time. The legs crossed—easily -and naturally—<i>so</i>. The elbow resting on the arm of -the chair and the cheek upon the hand—<i>so</i>.” He -retired to a distance and examined the effect, with his -head on one side. “A little spoilt by the expression, -perhaps—but very pretty. The expression a lee-eetle -less—er—fierce, if you will pardon the word.” William -here deigned to speak.</p> - -<p>“I can’t look any different to this,” he remarked -coldly.</p> - -<p>“Now, think of the things I say,” went on the -photographer, brightly. “Sweeties? Ah!” looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -merrily at William’s unchangingly ferocious expression. -“Do I see a saucy little smile?” As a matter of -fact, he didn’t, because at that moment Ethel, her -eyes streaming, peeped round the screen for another -look at the priceless sight of William in his best suit, -in the familiar attitude of the Bard of Avon. Encountering -the concentrated fury of William’s gaze, -she retired hastily.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig5.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">AT THAT MOMENT ETHEL PEEPED ROUND THE SCREEN<br /> -FOR ANOTHER LOOK AT THE PRICELESS SIGHT OF<br /> -WILLIAM IN THE FAMILIAR ATTITUDE OF THE BARD<br /> -OF AVON.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Seaside with spade and bucket?” went on the -photographer, watching William’s unchanging expression. -“Pantomimes? That nice, soft, furry pussy -cat you’ve got at home?” But seeing William’s expression -change from one of scornful fury to one -of Nebuchadnezzan rage and fury, he hastily pressed -the little ball lest worse should follow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p>Ethel’s description of the morning considerably -enlivened the lunch table. Only Mrs. Brown did not -join in the roars of laughter.</p> - -<p>“But I think it sounds very nice, dear,” she said, -“very nice. I’m very much looking forward to the -proofs coming.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was priceless,” said Ethel. “It was ever -so much funnier than the pantomime. I wouldn’t -have missed it for anything. For years to come, if -I feel depressed, I shall just think of William this -morning. His face ... oh, his face!”</p> - -<p>William defended himself.</p> - -<p>“My face is jus’ like anyone else’s face,” he said -indignantly. “I don’t know why you’re all laughing. -There’s nothin’ funny about my face. I’ve never <i>done</i> -anythin’ to it. It’s no different to other people’s. -It doesn’t make <i>me</i> laugh.”</p> - -<p>“No, dear,” said Mrs. Brown soothingly, “it’s very, -nice—very nice, indeed. And I’m sure it will be a -beautiful photograph.”</p> - -<p>The proofs arrived next week. They were highly -appreciated by William’s family. There were two -positions. In one, William, in an attitude of intellectual -contemplation, glowered at them from an -artistic background; in the other, he stood stiffly with -one hand on his hip, his toes (in spite of all) turned -resolutely in, and glared ferociously and defiantly upon -the world in general. Mrs. Brown was delighted. “I -think it’s awfully nice,” she said, “and he looks so -smart and clean.”</p> - -<p>William, mystified by Robert’s and Ethel’s reception -of them, carried them up to his room and studied -them long and earnestly.</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t see wot’s <i>funny</i> about them,” he said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -at last, half indignantly and half mystified. “It -doesn’t seem funny to <i>me</i>.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to write a letter to your godmother, -dear,” said Mrs. Brown, as Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s -birthday drew near.</p> - -<p>“<i>Me?</i>” said William bitterly. “I should think I’ve -done <i>enough</i> for her.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mrs. Brown firmly, “you <i>must</i> write -a letter.”</p> - -<p>“I dunno what to <i>say</i> to her.”</p> - -<p>“Say whatever comes into your head.”</p> - -<p>“I dunno how to <i>spell</i> all the words that come in -my head.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll help you, dear.”</p> - -<p>Seeing no escape, William sat gloomily down at the -table and was supplied with pen, ink, and paper. He -looked round disapprovingly.</p> - -<p>“S’pose I wear out the nib?” he said sadly. Mrs. -Brown obligingly placed a box of nibs at his elbow. -He sighed wearily. Life sometimes is hardly worth -living.</p> - -<p>After much patient thought he got as far as “Dear -Godmother.” He occupied the next ten minutes in -seeing how far you could bend apart the two halves -of a nib without breaking them. After breaking six, -he wearied of the occupation and returned to his -letter. With deeply-furrowed brow and protruding -tongue he continued his efforts. “Many happy returns -of your birthday. I hopp you are verry well. I am -very well and so is mother and father and Ethel and -Robbert.” He gazed out of the window and chewed -the end of his penholder into splinters. Some he -swallowed, then choked, and had to retire for a drink -of water. Then he demanded a fresh pen. After<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -about fifteen minutes he returned to his epistolary -efforts.</p> - -<p>“It is not raning to-day,” he wrote, after much -thought. Then, “It did not rane yesterday and we -are hoppin’ it will not rane to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Having exhausted that topic he scratched his head -in despair, wrinkled up his brows, and chewed his -penholder again.</p> - -<p>“I have a hole in my stokking,” was his next effort. -Then, “I have had my phottograf took and send it -for a birthday present. Some peeple think it funny -but to me it seems alrite. I hopp you will like it. -Your loving godsun, William.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Adolphus Crane was touched, both by letter and -photograph.</p> - -<p>“I must have been wrong,” she said with penitence. -“He looks so <i>good</i>. And there’s something rather <i>sad</i> -about his face.”</p> - -<p>She asked William to her birthday tea-party. To -William this was the climax of a long chain of insults.</p> - -<p>“But I don’t <i>want</i> to go to tea with her,” he said -in dismay.</p> - -<p>“But she wants you, darling,” said Mrs. Brown. -“I expect she liked your photograph.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going,” said William testily, “if they’re all -going to be laughing at my photograph all the time. -I’m jus’ sick of people laughing at my photograph.”</p> - -<p>“Of course they won’t, dear,” said Mrs. Brown. -“It’s a very nice photograph. You look a bit—depressed -in it, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s not <i>funny</i>,” he said indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Of course not, dear. You’ll behave nicely, won’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll behave ordinary,” he said coldly, “but I don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> -want to go. I don’t want to go ’cause—’cause—’cause——” he -sought silently for a reason that might -appeal to a grown-up mind, then, with a brilliant -inspiration, “’cause I don’t want my best clothes to -get all wore out.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think they will, dear,” she said; “don’t -worry about that.”</p> - -<p>William dejectedly promised not to.</p> - -<p>The afternoon of Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s birthday -dawned bright and clear, and William, resigned and -martyred, set off. He arrived early and was shown -into Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s magnificent drawing-room. -An air of magisterial magnificence shed gloom over -Mrs. Adolphus Crane’s whole house. Mrs. Adolphus -Crane, as magisterial, and magnificent and depressing -and enormous as her house, entered.</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon, William. Now I’ve a pleasant -little surprise for you.” William’s gloomy countenance -brightened. “I’ve put your photograph into my -album. There! What an honour for a little boy!” -William’s countenance relapsed into gloom.</p> - -<p>“You can look at the album while I’m getting ready, -and then when the guests come you can show it to -them. Won’t that be nice?” She departed.</p> - -<p>William was trapped—trapped in a huge and horrible -drawing-room by a huge and horrible woman, and -he would have to stay there at least two hours. And -Ginger and Henry were bird-nesting! Oh, the horror -of it. Why was he chosen by Fate for this penance? -He felt a sudden fury against the art of photography -in general. William’s sudden furies against anything -demanded some immediate outlet.</p> - -<p>So William, with the aid of a pencil, looked at Mrs. -Adolphus Crane’s family album till Mrs. Adolphus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -Crane was ready. Then she arrived, and soon after -her the guests, or rather such of them as had not had -the presence of mind to invent excuses for their -absence. For, funeral affairs were Mrs. Adolphus -Crane’s parties. Liveliness and hilarity dropped slain -on the doorstep. The guests came sadly into the -drawing-room, and Mrs. Adolphus Crane dispensed -gloom from the hearthrug. Her voice was low and -deep.</p> - -<p>“How do you do ... thank you so much ... I -doubt whether I shall live to see another ... yes, my -<i>nerves</i>! By the way—my little godson——” They -turned to look at William who was sitting in silent -misery in a corner, his hands on his knees. He -returned their interested stares with his best company -frown. On the chair by him was the album. “Have -you seen the family album?” went on Mrs. Adolphus -Crane. “It’s most interesting. Do look at it.” A -group of visitors sadly gathered round it and one of -them opened it. Mrs. Adolphus Crane did not join -them. She knew her album by heart. She took her -knitting, sat down by the fire, and poured forth her -knowledge.</p> - -<p>“The first one is great uncle Joshua,” she said, “a -splendid old man. Never touched tobacco or alcoholic -drinks in his life.”</p> - -<p>They looked at great uncle Joshua. He sat, grim -and earnest and respectable, with his hand on the -table. But a lately-added pipe, in pencil, adorned his -mouth, and his hand seemed to encircle a tankard. -Quite suddenly animation returned to the group by -the album. They began to believe that they were -going to enjoy it, after all.</p> - -<p>“Then comes my poor dear mother.” Poor, dear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> -mother wore a large eye-glass with a black ribbon and -a wild Indian head-dress. The group by the album -grew large. There seemed to be some magnetic -attraction about it.</p> - -<p>“Then comes my paternal uncle James, a very -handsome man.”</p> - -<p>Paternal uncle James might have been a very handsome -man before his nose had been elongated for -several inches, and his lips curved into an enormous -smile, showing gigantic teeth. He smoked a large-vulgar-looking -pipe.</p> - -<p>“A beautiful character, too,” said Mrs. Adolphus -Crane. She continued the family catalogue, and the -visitors followed the photographs in the album. They -were all embellished. Some had pipes, some had blue -noses, some black eyes, some giant spectacles, some -comic head-dresses. Some had received more attention -than others. Aunt Julia, “a most saintly woman,” -positively leered from her “cabinet,” with a huge nose, -and a black eye, and a cigar in her mouth. The album -was handed from one to another. An unwonted hilarity -and vivacity reigned supreme—and always there were -crowds round the album.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Adolphus Crane was surprised, but vaguely -flattered. Her party seemed more successful than -usual. People seemed to be taking quite a lot of -notice of William, too. One young curate, who had -wept tears over the album, pressed half a crown into -William’s hand. By some unerring instinct they -guessed the author of the outrage. As a matter of -fact, Mrs. Adolphus Crane did not happen to look at -her album till several months later, and then it did -not occur to her to connect it with William. But -this afternoon she somehow connected the strange<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -spirit of cheerfulness that pervaded her drawing-room -with him, and was most gracious to him.</p> - -<p>“He’s been <i>so</i> good,” she said to Mrs. Brown when -she arrived to take William home; “quite helped to -make my little party a success.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown concealed her amazement as best she -could.</p> - -<p>“But what did you <i>do</i>, William?” she said on the -way home as William plodded along beside her, his -hands in his pockets lovingly fingering his half-crown.</p> - -<p>“Me?” said William innocently. “Nothin’.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">THE FÊTE—AND FORTUNE</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM took a fancy to Miss Tabitha Croft as -soon as he saw her. She was small and inoffensive-looking. -She didn’t look the sort of person to -write irate letters to William’s parents. William was -a great judge of character. He could tell at a glance -who was likely to object to him, who was likely to -ignore him, and who was likely definitely to encourage -him. The last was a very rare class indeed. Most -people belonged to the first class. But as he sat on -the wall and watched Miss Tabitha Croft timidly and -flutteringly superintending the unloading of her -furniture at her little cottage gate, he came to the -conclusion that she would be very inoffensive indeed. -He also came to the conclusion that he was going to -like her. William generally got on well with timid -people. He was not timid himself. He was small -and freckled and solemn and possessed of great tenacity -of purpose for his eleven years.</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha, happening to look up from the débris -of a small table which one of the removers had carelessly -and gracefully crushed against the wall, saw a -boy perched on her wall, scowling at her. She did not -know that the scowl was William’s ordinary normal -expression. She smiled apologetically.</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Arternoon,” said William.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> - -<p>There was silence for a time while another of the -removers took the door off its hinges with little or -no effort by means of a small piano which he then -placed firmly upon another remover’s foot. Then the -silence was broken. During the breaking of silence, -William’s scowl disappeared and a rapt smile appeared -on his face.</p> - -<p>“Can’t they think of things to <i>say</i>?” he said -delightedly to Miss Tabitha when a partial peace was -restored.</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha raised a face of horror and misery.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear!” she said in a voice that trembled, -“it’s simply dreadful!”</p> - -<p>William’s chivalry (that curious quality) was aroused. -He leapt heavily from the wall.</p> - -<p>“I’ll help,” he said airily. “Don’t you worry.”</p> - -<p>He helped.</p> - -<p>He staggered from the van to the house and from -the house to the van. He worked till the perspiration -poured from his freckled brow. He broke two candlesticks, -a fender, a lamp, a statuette, and most of a -breakfast service. After each breakage he said, -“Never mind,” comfortingly to Miss Tabitha and put -the pieces tidily in the dustbin. When he had filled -the dustbin he arranged them in a neat pile by the -side of it. He was completely master of the situation. -Miss Tabitha gave up the struggle and sat on a packing-case -in the kitchen with some sal-volatile and smelling-salts. -One of the removers gave William a drink of -cold tea—another gave him a bit of cold sausage. -William was blissfully, riotously happy. The afternoon -seemed to fly on wings. He tore a large hole in -his knickers and upset a tin of paint, which he found -on a window sill, down his jersey. At last the removers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -departed and William proudly surveyed the scene of -his labours and destruction.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “I bet things would have been a -lot different if I hadn’t helped.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure they would,” said Miss Tabitha with -perfect truth.</p> - -<p>“Seems about tea time, doesn’t it?” went on William -gently.</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha gave a start and put aside the sal-volatile.</p> - -<p>“Yes; <i>do</i> stay and have some here.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” said William simply, “I was thinking -you’d most likely ask me.”</p> - -<p>Over the tea (to which he did full justice in spite -of his previous repast of cold tea and sausage) William -waxed very conversational. He told her of his friends -and enemies (chiefly enemies) in the neighbourhood—of -Farmer Jones who made such a fuss over his old -apples, of the Rev. P. Craig who entered into a base -conspiracy with parents to deprive quite well-meaning -boys of their Sunday afternoon freedom. “If Sunday -school’s so <i>nice</i> an’ <i>good for folks</i> as they say it is,” -said William bitterly, “why don’t <i>they</i> go? I wun’t -mind <i>them</i> going.”</p> - -<p>He told her of Ginger’s air-gun and his own catapult, -of the dead rat they found in the ditch and the house -they had made of branches in the wood, of the dare-devil -career of robber and outlaw he meant to pursue -as soon as he left school. In short, he admitted her -unreservedly into his friendship.</p> - -<p>And while he talked, he consumed large quantities -of bread and jam and butter and cakes and pastry. -At last he rose.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “I s’pose I’d better be goin’.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha was bewildered but vaguely cheered -by him.</p> - -<p>“You must come again....” she said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said William cheerfully. “I’ll come -again lots ... an’ let me know when you’re movin’ -again—I’ll come an’ help again.”</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha shuddered slightly.</p> - -<p>“Thank you <i>so</i> much,” she said.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>He arrived the next afternoon.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just come to see,” he said, “how you’re -gettin’ on.”</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha was seated at a little table—with a -row of playing cards spread out in front of her.</p> - -<p>She flushed slightly.</p> - -<p>“I’m—I’m just telling my fortune, William,” she -said.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said William. He was impressed.</p> - -<p>“It <i>does</i> sometimes come true,” she said eagerly, -“I do it nearly every day. It’s curious—how it grows -on one.”</p> - -<p>She began to turn up the covered cards and study -them intently. William sat on a chair opposite her -and watched with interest.</p> - -<p>“There was a letter in my cards yesterday,” she said, -“and it came this morning. Sometimes it comes true -like that, but often,” she sighed, “it doesn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Wot’s in it to-day?” said William, scowling at the -cards.</p> - -<p>“A death,” said Miss Tabitha in a sepulchral whisper, -“and a letter from a dark man and jealousy of a fair -woman and a present from across the sea and legal -business and a legacy—but they’re none of them the -sort of thing that comes true. I don’t know though,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -she went on dreamily, “the Income Tax man might -be dark—I don’t know—and I may hear from him -soon. It’s wonderful really—I mean that any of it -should come out. It’s quite an absorbing pursuit. -Shall I do yours?”</p> - -<p>“’Um,” said William graciously.</p> - -<p>“You must wish first.”</p> - -<p>William wished with his eyes screwed up in silent -concentration.</p> - -<p>“I’ve done it,” he said.</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha dealt out the cards. She shook her -head sorrowfully.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be treated badly by a fair woman,” she said.</p> - -<p>William agreed gloomily.</p> - -<p>“That’ll be Ethel—my sister,” he said. “She thinks -that jus’ ’cause she’s grown-up....” He relapsed -into subterranean mutterings.</p> - -<p>“And you’ll have your wish,” she said.</p> - -<p>William brightened. Then his eye roved round the -room to a photograph on a bureau by the window.</p> - -<p>“Who’s he?” he said.</p> - -<p>Miss Tabitha flushed again.</p> - -<p>“He was once going to marry me,” she said. “And -he went away and he never came back.”</p> - -<p>“’Speck he met someone he liked better an’ married -her,” suggested William cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“I expect he did,” said Miss Tabitha.</p> - -<p>He surveyed her critically.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he didn’t like your hair not being curly,” -he proceeded. “Some don’t. My brother Robert he -says if a girl’s hair doesn’t curl she oughter curl it. -P’raps you didn’t curl it.”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“My sister Ethel does, but she gets mad if I tell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> -folks, an’ she gets mad when I use her old things for -makin’ holes in apples and cardboard an’ things. -She’s an awful fuss,” he ended contemptuously.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig6.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“YOU’LL BE TREATED BADLY BY A FAIR WOMAN,” SHE<br /> -SAID. WILLIAM AGREED GLOOMILY. “THAT’LL BE<br /> -ETHEL,” HE SAID.</p> -</div> - -<p>When he got home he stood transfixed on the -dining-room threshold, his mouth open, his eyes wide.</p> - -<p>“Crumbs!” he ejaculated.</p> - -<p>He had wished that there might be ginger cake -for tea.</p> - -<p>And there was.</p> - -<p>At tea was the Vicar’s wife. The Vicar’s wife was -afflicted with the Sale of Work mania. It is a disease -to which Vicars’ wives are notoriously susceptible.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -She was always thinking out the next but one Sale of -Work before the next one was over. She was always -praised in the local press and she felt herself to be a -very happy woman.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to call the next one a Fête,” she said. -“It will seem more of a change.”</p> - -<p>“Fake?” said William with interest.</p> - -<p>She murmured “Dear boy,” vaguely.</p> - -<p>“We’ll advertise it widely. I’m thinking of calling -it the King of Fêtes. Such an <i>arresting</i> title. We’ll -have donkey rides and cocoanut shies, so <i>democratic</i>—and -we ought to have fortune-telling. One doesn’t—h’m—of -course, <i>believe</i> in it—but it’s what people -expect. Some quite <i>harmless</i> fortune-telling—by cards, -for instance——”</p> - -<p>William gasped.</p> - -<p>“She did mine—<i>wonderful</i>,” he said excitedly, “it -came—just wot I wished. There was it for tea!”</p> - -<p>“Who? What?” said the Vicar’s wife.</p> - -<p>“The new one—at the cottage—I did all her furniture -for her an’ got paint on my clothes an’ she told me -about him not coming back ’cause of her hair p’raps -an’ I got some of her things broke but not many an’ -she gave me tea an’ said to come again.”</p> - -<p>Gradually they elicited details.</p> - -<p>“I’ll call,” said the Vicar’s wife. “It would be so -nice to have someone one <i>knows</i> to do it—someone -<i>respectable</i>. Fortune-tellers are so often not <i>quite</i>—you -know what I mean, dear,” she cooed to William’s -mother.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” murmured William abstractedly “it -mayn’t have been her hair. It may have been jus’ -anything....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William was having a strenuous time. Fate was -making one of her periodic assaults on him. Everything -went wrong. Miss Drew, his form mistress at -school, had taken an altogether misguided and unsympathetic -view of his zeal for nature study. In fact, -when the beetle which William happened to be holding -lovingly in his hand as he did his sums by her desk, -escaped and made its way down her neck, her piercing -scream boded no good to William. The further discovery -of a caterpillar and two woodlice in his pencil-box, -a frog in his satchel, and earwigs in his pocket, -annoyed her still more, and William stayed in school -behind his friends to write out one hundred times, -“I must not bring insects into school.” His addition -“because they friten Miss Drew,” made relations still -more strained. He met with no better luck at home. -His unmelodious and penetrating practices on a mouth-organ -in the early hours of the morning had given rise -to a coldness that changed to actual hostility when it -was discovered that he had used Ethel’s new cape as -the roof of his wigwam in the garden and Robert’s -new expensive brown shoe polish to transform himself -to a Red Indian chief. He was distinctly unpopular -at home. There was some talk of not allowing him -to attend the King of Fêtes, but as the rest of the -family were going and the maids had refused to be -left with William on the premises it was considered -safer to allow him to go.</p> - -<p>“But any of your <i>tricks</i>——” said his father darkly, -leaving the sentence unfinished.</p> - -<p>The day of the King of Fêtes was fine. The stalls -were bedecked in the usual bright and inharmonious -colours. A few donkeys with their attendants surveyed -the scene contemptuously. Ethel was wearing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -the new cape (brushed and cleaned to a running accompaniment -of abuse of William), Mrs. Brown was -presiding at a stall. Robert, wearing a large buttonhole, -with his shoes well browned (with a new tin of -polish purchased with William’s pocket-money) presided -at a miniature rifle range. William, having been -given permission to attend, and money for his entrance, -hung round the gateway glaring at them scornfully. -He always disliked his family intensely upon public -occasions. He had not yet paid his money and was -wondering whether it was worth it after all, and it -would not be wiser to spend it on bulls’ eyes and -gingerbreads, and his afternoon in the fields as a -solitary outlaw and hunter of cats or whatever other -live prey Fate chose to send him. In a tent at the -farther end of the Fête ground was Miss Tabitha Croft, -arrayed in a long and voluminous garment covered -with strange signs. They were supposed to be mystic -Eastern signs, but were in reality the invention of the -Vicar’s wife, suggested by the freehand drawing of -her youngest son, aged three. It completely enveloped -Miss Tabitha from head to foot, leaving only two holes -for her eyes and two holes for her arms. She had -shown it to William the day before.</p> - -<p>“I don’t <i>quite</i> like it,” she had confessed. “I hope -there’s nothing—blasphemous about it. But she ought -to know—being a Vicar’s wife she ought to know. I -only hope,” she went on, shaking her head, “that I’m -not tampering with the powers of darkness—even for -the cause of the church organ.”</p> - -<p>Outside was a large placard: “Fortune Telling by -the Woman of Mystery, 2s. 6d. each.” Inside the -Woman of Mystery sat trembling with nervousness in -front of a table on which reposed her little well-worn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -pack of cards, each with a neat hieroglyphic in the -corner to show whether it meant a death or a wedding -or a legacy or anything else.</p> - -<p>William, surveying this scene from the gateway -became aware of a figure coming slowly down the road. -It was a man—a very tall man who stooped slightly as -he walked. As he came to William he became suddenly -aware in his turn of William’s scowling regard. He -lifted his hat.</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon,” he said courteously.</p> - -<p>“Afternoon,” said William brusquely.</p> - -<p>“Do you know,” went on the man, “whether a—Miss -Croft lives in the village?”</p> - -<p>He pointed down the hill to the cluster of roofs.</p> - -<p>“I think,” said William slowly, “I’ve seen your -photo—only you wasn’t so old when you had it took.”</p> - -<p>“Where have you seen my photo?” said the man.</p> - -<p>“In her house—wot I helped her to remove to,” -said William proudly.</p> - -<p>The man’s kind, rather weak face lit up.</p> - -<p>“Could you show me her house? You see,” he went -on simply, “I’m a very unhappy man. I went away, -but I’ve carried her in my heart all the time, but it’s -taken me a long, long time to find her. I’m a very -tired, unhappy man.”</p> - -<p>William looked at him with some scorn.</p> - -<p>“You was soft,” he said. “P’raps it was ’cause of -her hair not curlin’?”</p> - -<p>“Where is she?” said the man.</p> - -<p>“In there,” said William pointing to the enclosure -sacred to the King of Fêtes. “I’ll get her if you like.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said the man.</p> - -<p>William, still grudging his entrance money, walked -round the enclosure till he found a weak spot in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -hedge behind a tent. Through this he scrambled with -great difficulty, leaving his cap <i>en route</i>, blackening and -scratching his face, tearing his knickers in two places, -and his jersey in three. But William, who could not -see himself, fingering tenderly the price of admission in -his pocket, felt that it had been trouble well expended. -He met the Vicar’s wife. She was raffling a tea-cosy -highly decorated with red and yellow and purple -tulips on a green ground. She wore her Sale of Work -smile. William accosted her.</p> - -<p>“He wants her. He’s come back. Could you get -her?” he said. “He’s had the right one in his inside -all the time. He said so....”</p> - -<p>But she had no use for William. William did not -look as if he was good for a one-and-six raffle ticket -for a tea-cosy.</p> - -<p>“Sweet thing!” she murmured vaguely, and effusively -caressed his disordered hair as she passed.</p> - -<p>William made his way towards the tent of the Woman -of Mystery. But there was an ice-cream stall on his -way and William could not pass it. Robert and Ethel, -glasses of fashion and moulds of form, passed at the -minute. At the sight of William with torn coat and -jersey, dirty scratched face, no cap and tousled hair, -consuming ice-cream horns among a crowd of his -social inferiors, a shudder passed through both of -them. They felt that William was a heavy handicap -to them in Life’s race.</p> - -<p>“Send him home,” said Robert.</p> - -<p>“I simply wouldn’t be seen speaking to him,” replied -Ethel.</p> - -<p>William, having satisfied his craving for ice-cream -with the greater part of his entrance money, wandered -on towards the tent of the Woman of Mystery. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -entered it by crawling under the canvas at the back. -The Woman of Mystery happened to be having a slack -time. The tent was empty.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig7.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">AT THE SIGHT OF WILLIAM A SHUDDER PASSED THROUGH<br /> -BOTH OF THEM. THEY FELT THAT WILLIAM WAS A HEAVY<br /> -HANDICAP TO THEM IN LIFE’S RACE.</p> -</div> - -<p>“He’s come,” announced William. “He’s waiting -outside.”</p> - -<p>“Who?” said the Woman of Mystery.</p> - -<p>“The one wot you’ve got a photo of. You know. -He’s jus’ by the gate.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, dear!” gasped the Woman of Mystery. “Does -he want me?”</p> - -<p>“’Um,” said William.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear!” fluttered the Woman of Mystery. “I -must go—yet how can I go? People will be coming -for their fortunes.”</p> - -<p>William waved aside the objection.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll see to that,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But—can you tell fortunes, dear?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I dunno,” said William. “I’ve never tried yet.”</p> - -<p>The Woman of Mystery drew off her curious gown.</p> - -<p>“I must go,” she said.</p> - -<p>With that she fled—through the back opening of -the tent.</p> - -<p>William slowly and deliberately arrayed himself. He -put on the gown and arranged it so that his eyes came -to the two eye-holes and his hands out of the two arm-holes. -Then he lifted the hassock on which the -Woman of Mystery had disposed her feet, on to the -chair, and took his seat upon it, carefully hiding it -with the gown. At that moment the flap of the tent -opened and a client entered. She put half a crown -on the table, and sat down on the chair opposite -William.</p> - -<p>Peering through his eye-holes William recognised -Miss Drew.</p> - -<p>He spread out a row of the playing-cards and began -to whisper. William’s whisper was such a little known -quantity that it was not recognised.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got a bad temper,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“True!” sighed Miss Drew.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got a cat and hens,” went on William.</p> - -<p>“True.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been hard on a boy jus’ lately. He—he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -may not live very long. You’ve time to make up -to him.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig8.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“YOU’VE BEEN HARD ON A BOY JUS’ LATELY. HE—HE<br /> -MAY NOT LIVE VERY LONG. YOU’VE TIME TO MAKE UP<br /> -TO HIM.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Miss Drew started.</p> - -<p>“That’s all.”</p> - -<p>Miss Drew, looking bewildered and troubled, withdrew -from the tent.</p> - -<p>William was surprised on peering through his eye-holes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -to recognise Ethel in his next visitor. He spread -out the cards and began to whisper again.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got two brothers,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>Ethel nodded.</p> - -<p>“The small one won’t live long prob’ly. You better -be kinder to him while he lives. Give in to him -more. That’s all.”</p> - -<p>Ethel withdrew in an awed silence.</p> - -<p>Robert entered next. William was beginning to -enjoy himself.</p> - -<p>“You’ve gotter brother,” he whispered. “Well, he’s -not strong an’ he may die soon. This is a warning for -you. You’d better make him happy while he’s alive. -That’s all.”</p> - -<p>Robert went slowly from the tent. At that moment -the little Woman of Mystery fluttered in from the back.</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you <i>so</i> much, dear. Such a <i>wonderful</i> -thing has happened. But I must return to my post. -He’ll wait till the end, he says.”</p> - -<p>Still talking breathlessly, she drew the robe of -mystery from William and put it on herself.</p> - -<p>William wandered out again into the Fête ground. -He visited the ice-cream stall again, then wandered -aimlessly around. The first person to accost him was -Miss Drew.</p> - -<p>“Hello, William,” she said, gazing at him anxiously. -“I’ve been looking for you. Would you like some -ice-cream?”</p> - -<p>William graciously condescended to be fed with -ice-cream.</p> - -<p>“Would you like a box of chocolates?” went on -Miss Drew. “Do you feel all right, William, dear? -You’ve been a bit pale lately.”</p> - -<p>William accepted from her a large box of chocolates<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -and three donkey rides. He admitted that perhaps -he hadn’t been feeling very strong lately. When she -departed he found Robert and Ethel looking for him. -They treated him to a large and very satisfying tea and -several more donkey rides. Both used an unusually -tender tone of voice when addressing him. Ethel -bought him a pine-apple and another box of chocolates, -and Robert bought him a bottle of sweets and -apologised for his unreasonable behaviour about the -shoe polish. When they went home William walked -between them and they carried his chocolates and -sweets and pine-apple for him. Feeling that too much -could not be made of the present state of affairs, he -made Robert do his homework before he went to -bed. Up in his room he gave his famous imitation -of a churchyard cough that he had made perfect by -practise and which had proved a great asset to him -on many occasions. Ethel crept softly upstairs. She -held a paper bag in her hand.</p> - -<p>“William, darling,” she said, “I’ve brought this -toffee for your throat. It might do it good.”</p> - -<p>William added it to his store of presents.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said with an air of patient suffering.</p> - -<p>“And I’ll give you something to make your wigwam -with to-morrow, dear,” she went on.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said William.</p> - -<p>“And if you want to practise your mouth-organ in -the mornings it doesn’t matter a bit.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said William in a small, martyred -voice.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The next evening William walked happily down the -road. It had been a very pleasant day. Miss Drew -had done most of his work for him at school. He had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -been treated at lunch by his family with a consideration -that was quite unusual. He had been entreated to -have all that was left of the trifle while the rest of -the family had stewed prunes.</p> - -<p>In the garden of the little cottage was Miss Tabitha -Croft and the tall, stooping man.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is William,” said Miss Tabitha. “William -is a <i>great</i> friend of mine!”</p> - -<p>“I saw William yesterday,” said the man. “William -must certainly come to the wedding.”</p> - -<p>“William,” said Miss Croft, “it was kind of you to -take my place yesterday. Did you manage all right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said William, after a moment’s consideration, -“I managed all right, thank you.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM ALL THE TIME</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM was walking down the road, his hands -in his pockets, his mind wholly occupied with -the Christmas pantomime. He was going to the -Christmas pantomime next week. His thoughts dwelt -on rapturous memories of previous Christmas pantomimes—of -<i>Puss in Boots</i>, of <i>Dick Whittington</i>, of <i>Red -Riding Hood</i>. His mouth curved into a blissful smile -as he thought of the funny man—inimitable funny man -with his red nose and enormous girth. How William -had roared every time he appeared! With what joy -he had listened to his uproarious songs! But it was -not the funny man to whom William had given his -heart. It was to the animals. It was to the cat in -<i>Puss in Boots</i>, the robins in <i>The Babes in the Wood</i>, -and the wolf in <i>Red Riding Hood</i>. He wanted to be -an animal in a pantomime. He was quite willing -to relinquish his beloved future career of pirate in -favour of that of animal in a pantomime. He -wondered....</p> - -<p>It was at this point that Fate, who often had a -special eye on William, performed one of her lightning -tricks.</p> - -<p>A man in shirt-sleeves stepped out of the wood and -looked anxiously up and down the road. Then he -took out his watch and muttered to himself. William -stood still and stared at him with frank interest. Then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -the man began to stare at William, first as if he didn’t -see him, and then as if he saw him.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to be a bear for a bit?” he said.</p> - -<p>William pinched himself. He seemed to be awake.</p> - -<p>“A b-b-bear?” he queried, his eyes almost starting -out of his head.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the man irritably, “a bear. B.E.A.R. -bear. Animal—Zoo. Never heard of a bear?”</p> - -<p>William pinched himself again. He seemed to be -still awake.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he agreed as though unwilling to commit -himself entirely. “I’ve heard of a bear all right.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, then,” said the man, looking once more -at his watch, once more up the road, once more down -the road, then turning on his heel and walking quickly -into the wood.</p> - -<p>William followed, both mouth and eyes wide open. -The man did not speak as he walked down the path. -Then suddenly down a bend in the path they came -upon a strange sight. There was a hut in a little -clearing, and round the hut was clustered a group of -curious people—a Father Christmas, holding his beard -in one hand and a glass of ale in the other; a rather fat -Goldilocks, in the act of having yellow powder lavishly -applied to her face, several fairies and elves, sucking -large and redolent peppermints; a ferocious, but -depressed-looking giant, rubbing his hands together -and complaining of the cold; and several other strange -and incongruous figures. In front of the hut was a -large species of camera with a handle, and behind -stood a man smoking a pipe.</p> - -<p>“Kid turned up?” he said.</p> - -<p>William’s guide shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “they’ve missed their train or lost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -their way, or evaporated, or got kidnapped or something, -but this happened to be passing, and it looked -the same size pretty near. What do you think?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig9.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">SUDDENLY DOWN A BEND IN THE PATH THEY CAME UPON<br /> -A STRANGE SIGHT.</p> -</div> - -<p>The man took his pipe from his mouth in order the -better to concentrate his whole attention on William. -He looked at William from his muddy boots to his -untidy head. Then he reversed the operation, and -looked from his untidy head to his muddy boots. -Then he scratched his head.</p> - -<p>“Seems on the big side for the middle one,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> - -<p>At this point a hullabaloo arose from behind the -shed, and a small bear appeared, howling loudly.</p> - -<p>“He tooken my bit of toffee,” yelled the bear in -a very human voice.</p> - -<p>“Aw, shut up!” said the man in his shirt-sleeves.</p> - -<p>The small bear was followed by a large bear, protesting -loudly.</p> - -<p>“I gave him half’n mine ’n’e promised to give me -half’n his’ ’n’ then he tried to eat it all’n’——”</p> - -<p>“Aw, shut up!” repeated the man. Then he turned -to William.</p> - -<p>“All you gotter do,” he said, “is to fix on the middle -bear’s suit an’ do exactly what you’re told, an’ I’ll give -you five shillings at the end. See?”</p> - -<p>“These roural places are a butiful chinge,” murmured -Goldilocks’ mother, darkening her eyebrows as -she spoke. “So calm and quart.”</p> - -<p>“These Christmas shows,” grumbled the giant, -flapping his arms vigorously, “are the very devil.”</p> - -<p>Here William found his voice. “Crumbs!” he -ejaculated. Then, feeling the expletive to be altogether -inadequate to the occasion, quickly added: “Gosh!”</p> - -<p>“Take the kid round, someone,” said the shirt-sleeve -man wearily, “and fix on his togs, and let’s get -on with the show.”</p> - -<p>Here a Fairy Queen appeared from behind the hut.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see how I’m possibly to go through with -this here performance,” she said in a voice of plaintive -suffering. “I had toothache all last night——”</p> - -<p>“If you think,” said the shirt-sleeve man, “that you -can hold up this blessed show for a twopenny-halfpenny -toothache——”</p> - -<p>“If you’re going to be insulting——” said the Fairy -Queen in shrill indignation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> - -<p>“Aw, shut up!” said the shirt-sleeve man.</p> - -<p>Here Father Christmas, who had finished his ale, -led William into the hut. A bear’s suit lay on a -chair.</p> - -<p>“The kid wot was to wear this not having turned -up,” he said by way of explanation, “and you by all -accounts bein’ willin’ to oblige for a small consideration, -we shall have to see what can be done. I suppose,” -he added, “you have no objection?”</p> - -<p>“Me?” said William, whose eyes and mouth had -grown more and more circular every minute. “<i>Me</i>—objection? -Golly! I should think <i>not</i>.”</p> - -<p>The little bear and the big bear surveyed him -critically.</p> - -<p>“He’s too <i>big</i>,” said the little bear contemptuously.</p> - -<p>“His hair’s too long,” contributed the big bear.</p> - -<p>“His face is too dirty.”</p> - -<p>“His ears is too long.”</p> - -<p>“His nose is too flat.”</p> - -<p>“His head’s too big.”</p> - -<p>“His——”</p> - -<p>William speedily and joyfully put an end to the -duet and Father Christmas wearily disentangled the -struggling mass.</p> - -<p>“It may be a bit on the small side,” he conceded as -he deposited the small bear upside down beneath the -table, “but we’ll do what we can.”</p> - -<p>Here the shirt-sleeve man appeared at the window.</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” he said kindly. “Take all day -about it. Don’t hurry! We all enjoy hanging about -and waiting for you.”</p> - -<p>Father Christmas offered to retire from his post in -favour of the shirt-sleeve man, and the shirt-sleeve -man hastily retreated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<p>Then came the task of fitting William into the -skin. It was not an easy task.</p> - -<p>“You’re bigger,” said Father Christmas, “than what -you look in the distance. Considerable.”</p> - -<p>William could not stand quite upright in the skin, -but by stooping slightly he could see and speak through -the open mouth of the head. In an ecstasy of joy -he pummelled the big bear, the little bear gladly -joined in the fray and a furry ball of three struggling -bears rolled out of the door of the hut.</p> - -<p>The shirt-sleeve man rang a bell.</p> - -<p>“After this somewhat lengthy interlude,” he said. -“By the way, may I inquire the name of our new -friend?”</p> - -<p>William proudly shouted his name through the -aperture in the bear’s head.</p> - -<p>“Well, Billiam,” he said jocularly, “do just what -I tell you and you’ll be all right. Now all clear off -a minute, please. We’ve only a few scenes to do -here.”</p> - -<p>“Location,” he read from a paper in his hand, “hut -in wood. Enter fairies with Fairy Queen. Dance.”</p> - -<p>“How I am expected to dance,” said the Fairy -Queen bitterly, “tortured by toothache, I can’t -think.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t dance with your teeth,” said the shirt-sleeve -man unsympathetically. “Let’s go through it -once before we turn on the machine. You’ve rehearsed -it often enough. Now, come on.”</p> - -<p>They danced a dance that made William gape in -surprise and admiration, so dainty and airy was it.</p> - -<p>“Enter Father Christmas,” went on the shirt-sleeve -man.</p> - -<p>“What I can’t think,” said Father Christmas,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -fastening on his beard, “is what a Father Christmas’s -doing in this effect.”</p> - -<p>“Nor a giant,” said the giant sadly.</p> - -<p>“It’s for a Christmas show,” said the shirt-sleeve -man. “You’ve gotter have a Father Christmas in a -Christmas show, or else how’d people know it’s a -Christmas show? And you’ve gotter have a giant -in a fairy tale whether there is one in it or not.”</p> - -<p>Father Christmas joined the dance—gave presents to -all the fairies, then retired behind the hut to his private -store of refreshment.</p> - -<p>“Enter Goldilocks,” said the shirt-sleeve man. -“Now where the dickens is that kid?”</p> - -<p>Goldilocks, fat, fair and rosy, appeared from behind -a tree where she had been eating bananas.</p> - -<p>She peered down the middle bear’s mouth.</p> - -<p>“It’s a new one,” she said.</p> - -<p>“The other hasn’t turned up,” said the man. “This -is Billiam, who is taking on the middle one for the -small consideration of five shillings.”</p> - -<p>“He’s put out his tongue at me,” she screamed in -shrill indignation.</p> - -<p>At this the big bear, whose adoration of Goldilocks -was very obvious, closed with William, and Goldilocks’ -mother screamed shrilly.</p> - -<p>The giant separated the two bears and Goldilocks -came to the hut with an expression of patient suffering -meant to represent intense physical weariness. She -gave a start of joy at the sight of the hut, which -apparently she did not see till she had almost passed -it. She entered. She gave a second start of joy at -the sight of three porridge plates. She tasted the first -two and consumed the third. She wandered into the -other room. She gave a third start of joy at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -sight of three beds. She tried them all and went to -sleep beautifully and realistically on the smallest. -William was lost in admiration.</p> - -<p>“Come on, bears,” said the man in shirt-sleeves. -“Billiam, walk between them. Don’t jump. <i>Walk</i>. -In at the door. That’s right. Now, Billiam, look at -your plate, then shake your head at the big bear.”</p> - -<p>Trembling with joy William obeyed. The big bear, -in the privacy of the open mouth, put out his tongue -at William with a hostile grimace. William returned it.</p> - -<p>“Now to the little one,” said the man in shirt-sleeves. -But William was still absorbed in the big -one. Enraged by a particularly brilliant feat in the -grimacing line which he felt he could not outshine, -he put out a paw and tripped up the big bear’s chair. -The big bear promptly picked up a porridge plate and -broke it on William’s head. The little bear hurled -himself ecstatically into the conflict. Father Christmas -wearily returned to his work of separating them.</p> - -<p>“If you aren’t satisfied with your bonus,” said the -shirt-sleeve man to William, “take it out of me, -not the scenery. You’ve just done about five shillings’ -worth of damage already. Now let’s get on.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig10.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">HE MET A BOY WHO FLED FROM HIM WITH YELLS OF TERROR,<br /> -AND TO WILLIAM IT SEEMED AS IF HE HAD DRUNK OF<br /> -ECSTACY’S VERY FOUNT.</p> -</div> - -<p>The rest of the scene went off fairly well, but William -was growing bored. It wasn’t half such fun as he -thought it would be. He wasn’t feeling quite sure of -his five shillings after those smashed plates. The only -thing for which he felt a deep and lasting affection, -from which he felt he could never endure to be parted, -was his bear-skin. It was rather small and very hot, -but it gave him a thrill of pleasure unlike anything -he had ever known before. He was a bear. He was -an animal in a pantomime. He began to dislike -immensely the shirt-sleeve man, and the hut, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -Fairy Queen, and the giant, and all the rest of them, -but he loved his bear suit. It was while the giant -was having a scene by himself that the brilliant idea -came to William. He was standing behind a tree. -No one was looking at him. He moved very quietly -further away. Still no one looked at him. He moved -yet further away and still no one looked at him. In -a few seconds he was leaping and bounding through -the wood alone in the world with the bear-skin. He -was a bear. He was a bear in a wood. He ran. He -jumped. He turned head over heels. He climbed a -tree. He ran after a rabbit. He was riotously, blissfully -happy. He met a boy who fled from him with -echoing yells of terror, and to William it seemed as -if he had drunk of ecstasy’s very fount. He ran on -and on, roaring occasionally, and occasionally rolling -in the leaves. Then something happened. He gave a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -particularly violent jump and strained the skin which -was already somewhat tight. The skin did not burst, -but the head came down very far on to William’s head -and wedged itself tightly. He could not see out of -its open mouth now. He could just see out of one -of the eye-holes, but only just. His mouth was -wedged tightly in the head and he found he could -not speak plainly. He put up his paws and pulled -at the head to loosen it, but with no results. It was -very tightly wedged. William’s spirits drooped. It -was all very well being a bear in a wood as long as -one could change oneself to a boy at will. It was -a very different thing being fastened to a bear-skin -for life. He supposed that in time, if he went on -growing to a man, he’d burst the bear-skin. On the -other hand, he couldn’t get to his mouth now, so -he couldn’t eat, and he’d not be able to grow at all. -Starvation stared him in the face. He was hungry -already. He decided to return home and throw himself -on the mercy of his family. Then he remembered -that his family were all out that afternoon. His -mother was at a mother’s meeting at the Vicarage. -He decided to go straight to the Vicarage. Perhaps -the united efforts of the mothers of the village might -succeed in getting his head off. He went out from -the woods on to the road but was discouraged by the -behaviour of a woman who was passing. She gave an -unearthly yell, tore a leg of mutton from her basket, -flung it at William’s head, and ran for dear life down -the road, screaming as she went. William, much -depressed, returned to the woods and reached the -Vicarage by a circuitous route. Feeling too shy to -ring the bell and interview a housemaid in his present -costume, he walked round the house to the French<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -windows of the dining-room where the meeting was -taking place. He stood pathetically in the doorway -of the window.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” he began plaintively in a muffled and -almost inaudible voice, but it would have made little -difference had he spoken in his usual strident tones. -The united scream of the mothers’ meeting would have -drowned it. Never in the whole course of his life had -William seen a room empty so quickly. It was like -magic. Almost before his plaintive and muffled -“Mother” had left his lips, the room was empty. Only -two dozen overturned chairs, an overturned table, and -several broken ornaments marked the line of retreat. -The room was empty.</p> - -<p>The entire mothers’ meeting, headed by the vicar’s -wife and the vicarage cook and housemaid, were -dashing down the main road of the village, screaming -as they went. William sadly surveyed the desolate -scene before him and retreated again to the woods. -He leant against a tree and considered the whole -situation.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billiam!”</p> - -<p>Turning his head to a curious angle and peering out -of one of the bear’s eye-holes, he recognised Goldilocks.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” he returned in a spiritless voice.</p> - -<p>“Why did you run away?” she said.</p> - -<p>“Dunno,” he said. “I wanted the old skin. Wish -I’d never seed it.”</p> - -<p>“You do talk funny,” she said. “I can’t hear what -you say.”</p> - -<p>And so far was William’s spirit broken that he only -sighed.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig11.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">NEVER IN THE WHOLE COURSE OF HIS LIFE HAD WILLIAM<br /> -SEEN A ROOM EMPTY SO QUICKLY.</p> -</div> - -<p>“I saw you going,” she went on, “and I went after -you, but you ran so fast that I lost you. Then I went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -round a bit by myself. I say, they won’t be able -to get on with the old thing without us. I heard -them shouting for us. Isn’t it fun? An’ I heard -some people screaming in the road. What was -that?”</p> - -<p>William sighed again. Then he shouted: “Try’n -pull my head loose. <i>Hard.</i>”</p> - -<p>She complied. She pulled till William yelled again.</p> - -<p>“You’ve nearly took my ears off,” he said angrily -in his muffled, sepulchral voice.</p> - -<p>But the head was wedged on as tightly as ever.</p> - -<p>She went to the edge of the wood and peered across -the road.</p> - -<p>“There’s a place there,” she said, “with lots of -men in. Go’n’ ask them.”</p> - -<p>William somewhat reluctantly (for his previous -experiences had sadly disillusioned him with human -nature in general) went through the trees to the -roadside.</p> - -<p>He looked back at the white-clad form of Goldilocks.</p> - -<p>“Wait for me,” he whispered hoarsely.</p> - -<p>Anxious to attract as little notice as possible, he -crept on all fours round to the door of the public-house. -He poked in his head nervously.</p> - -<p>“Please, can some’n——” he began politely, but in -the clatter that arose the ghostly whisper was lost. -Several glasses and a chair were flung at his head. -Amid shoutings and uproar the innkeeper went for his -gun, but on his return William had departed, and the -innkeeper, who knew the better part of valour, contented -himself with bolting the door and fetching sal-volatile -for his wife. After a decent interval he -unlocked the door and the inmates crept cautiously -home one by one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> - -<p>“A great, furious brute,” they were heard to say. -“Must have escaped from a circus——”</p> - -<p>“If we hadn’t been quick——”</p> - -<p>“We ought to get up a party with guns——”</p> - -<p>“Let’s go and warn the school, or it’ll get the -kids——”</p> - -<p>On reaching their homes most of them found their -wives in hysterics on the kitchen floor after a hasty -return from the mothers’ meeting.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile William sat beneath a tree in the wood -in an attitude of utter despondency, his head on -his paws.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you <i>tell</i> them,” said Goldilocks impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I tell everyone,” said William. “Nobody’ll <i>listen</i> -to me. They make a noise and throw things. I’m -go’n’ home.”</p> - -<p>He rose and held out a paw. He felt utterly and -miserably cut off from his fellow-men. He clung -pathetically to Goldilock’s presence.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” he said.</p> - -<p>Hand in hand, a curious couple, they went through -the woods to the back of William’s house. “If I die,” -he said at once, “afore we get home, you’d better -bury me. There’s a spade in the back garden.”</p> - -<p>He took her round to the shed in his back garden.</p> - -<p>“You stay here,” he whispered. “An’ I’ll try and -get my head took off an’ then get us somethin’ to -eat.”</p> - -<p>Cautiously and apprehensively he crept into the -house. He could hear his mother talking to the cook -in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“It stood right in the window,” she was saying in -a trembling voice. “Not a very big animal but so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -ferocious-looking. We got out just in time—it was -just getting ready to spring. It——”</p> - -<p>William crept to the open kitchen door and assumed -his most plaintive expression, forgetting for the moment -that his expression could not be seen. Just as he -was opening his mouth to speak cook turned round -and saw him. The scream that cook emitted sent -William scampering up to his room in utter terror.</p> - -<p>“It’s gone up—plungin’ into Master William’s room—the -<i>brute!</i> Thank evving the little darlin’s out -playin’. Oh, mum, the cunnin’ brute’s a-shut the -door. Oh, my! It turned me inside out—it did. -Oh, I darsn’t go an’ lock it in, but that’s what ought -to be done——”</p> - -<p>“We—we’ll get someone with a gun,” said Mrs. -Brown weakly. “We—oh, here’s the master.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown entered as she spoke. “I’ve got terrible -news for you,” he said.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown burst into tears.</p> - -<p>“Oh, John, nothing could be worse than—than—John, -it’s upstairs. Do get a gun—in William’s room. -And—oh, my goodness, suppose he’s there—suppose -it’s mangling him—<i>do</i> go——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown sat calmly in his chair.</p> - -<p>“William,” he said, “has eloped with a <i>jeune première</i> -and a bear-skin. An entire Christmas pantomime is -searching the village for him. They’ve spent the afternoon -searching the wood and now they are searching -the village. Father Christmas is drinking ale in a -pub. He discovered that William had paid it a visit. -A Fairy Queen is sitting outside the pub complaining -of toothache, and Goldilocks’ mother is complimenting -the vicar on the rural beauty of his village, in the -intervals of weeping over the loss of her daughter.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -I gathered that William had visited the vicarage. -There’s a giant complaining of the cold, and a man -in his shirt-sleeves whose language is turning the air -blue for miles around. I was coming up from the -station and was introduced to them as William’s father. -I had some difficulty in calming them, but I promised -to do what I could to find the missing pair. I’m -rather keen on finding William. I don’t think I can -do better than hand him over to them for a few -minutes. As for the missing damsel——”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown found her voice.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean——?” she gasped feebly, “do you -mean that it was William all the time?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown rose wearily.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” he said. “Isn’t everything <i>always</i> -William all the time?”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">AUNT JANE’S TREAT</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM was blest with many relations, though -“blest” is not quite the word he would have -used himself. They seemed to appear and disappear -and reappear in spasmodic succession throughout the -year. He never could keep count of them. Most of -them he despised, some he actually disliked. The latter -class reciprocated his feelings fervently. Great-Aunt -Jane was one he had never seen, and so he suspended -judgment on her. But he rather liked the sound of -her name. He received the news that she was coming -to stay over Christmas with indifference.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said, “I don’t care. She can come -if she wants to.”</p> - -<p>She came.</p> - -<p>She was tall and angular and precise. She received -William’s scowling greeting with a smile.</p> - -<p>“Best wishes of the festive season, William,” she -murmured.</p> - -<p>William looked at her scornfully.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he murmured.</p> - -<p>However, his opinion of her rose the next morning.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to give you some treat, William dear,” -she said at breakfast, “to mark the festive season—something -quiet and orderly—as I don’t approve of -merry-making.”</p> - -<p>William looked at her kind, weak face, with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -spectacles and scraped-back hair, and sighed. He -thought that Aunt Jane would be enough to dispel the -hilarity of any treat. Great-Aunt Jane’s father had -been a Plymouth Brother, and Great-Aunt Jane had -been brought up to disbelieve in pleasure except as -a potent aid of the devil.</p> - -<p>William asked for a day in which to choose the -treat. He discussed it with his friends.</p> - -<p>“Well,” advised Ginger, “you jolly well oughter -choose something she can’t muck up like when my -aunt took me to a messy ole museum and showed me -stones and things—no animals nor nuffin’.”</p> - -<p>“What about the Zoo?” said Henry.</p> - -<p>The Zoo was suggested to Great-Aunt Jane, but -she shuddered slightly. “I don’t think I <i>could</i>,” she -said. “It’s so <i>dangerous</i>, I always feel. Those bars -look so fragile. I should never forgive myself if little -William were mangled by wild beasts when in my care.”</p> - -<p>William sighed and called his friends together again.</p> - -<p>“She won’t go to the Zoo,” said William. “Somethin’ -or other about bars an’ mangles.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what about Maskelyne’s and Devant’s?” said -Henry. “My uncle took me once. It’s all magic.”</p> - -<p>William, much cheered at the prospect, suggested -Maskelyne’s that evening. Aunt Jane thought it over -for some time, then shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No, dear,” she said. “I feel that these illusions -aren’t quite honest. They pretend to do something -they really couldn’t do, and it practically amounts to -falsehood. They deceive the eye, and all deceit is -wrong.”</p> - -<p>William groaned and returned to his advisory council.</p> - -<p>“She’s awful,” he said gloomily. “She’s cracky, I -think.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<p>They discussed the matter again. Douglas had seen -a notice of a fair as he came along.</p> - -<p>“Try that,” he said. “There’s merry-go-rounds an’ -shows an’ cocoanut-shies an’ all sorts. It oughter be -all right.”</p> - -<p>That evening William suggested a fair. Aunt Jane -looked frightened. “What exactly <i>happens</i> in a fair?” -she said earnestly.</p> - -<p>William had learnt tact.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he said, “you just walk round and look -at things.”</p> - -<p>“What <i>sort</i> of things do you look at?” said Aunt -Jane.</p> - -<p>“Oh, just stalls of gingerbreads an’ lemonade.”</p> - -<p>It sounded harmless. Aunt Jane’s face cleared.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” she said. “Of course, I could stand -outside while you walked round....”</p> - -<p>But upon investigation it appeared that William’s -parents had not that perfect trust in William that -William seemed to think was his due, and objected -strongly to William’s walking round by himself. So -Aunt Jane steeled herself to dally openly with the -evil power of Pleasure-making.</p> - -<p>“We can be quite quick,” she said, “and it doesn’t -sound very bad.”</p> - -<p>William reported progress to his council.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” he said cheerfully. “The ole luny’s -going to the fair.”</p> - -<p>Then his cheerfulness departed.</p> - -<p>“Though, when you come to think of it,” he said, -“it jolly well won’t be much fun for <i>me</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Ginger, “s’pose we all try to go there -the same time. We can leave your ole Aunt Jane -somewhere an’ go off, can’t we?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p>William brightened.</p> - -<p>“That sounds better,” he said. “I guess she’ll be -quite easy to leave.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Aunt Jane was so nervous that she did not sleep at -all on the night before the day arranged for the treat. -Never before in her blameless life had Aunt Jane -deliberately entered a place of entertainment.</p> - -<p>“I do hope,” she murmured on the threshold, holding -William firmly by the hand, “that there’s nothing -really <i>wrong</i> in it.”</p> - -<p>She was dressed in a long and voluminous black -skirt, a long and voluminous black coat, and a small -black hat, adorned with black ears of wheat, perched -upon her prim little head.</p> - -<p>Inside she stopped, bewildered. The glaring lights, -the noise, the shouting, seemed to be drawing Aunt -Jane’s eyes out of her sockets and through her large, -round spectacles.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a bit what I thought, William,” she said. -“I imagined just stalls—just quiet, plain stalls. Why -are they throwing balls about, William?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a cocoanut-shy,” said William.</p> - -<p>“Can—can anyone do it?” said Aunt Jane.</p> - -<p>“Anyone can try,” said William, “if they pay -twopence.”</p> - -<p>“And what happens if they knock it off?”</p> - -<p>“They get the cocoanut,” explained William loftily.</p> - -<p>“I—I wonder if it’s very difficult,” mused Aunt Jane.</p> - -<p>At this moment a well-aimed ball sent a cocoanut -rolling in the sawdust. Aunt Jane gave a little scream.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he <i>did</i> it! He <i>did</i> it!” she cried. “I—I’d love -to try. There—there can’t be anything <i>wrong</i> in it.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig12.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">AT THE FIRST THROW AUNT JANE SHOOK HER HAT<br /> -CROOKED.... THE BYSTANDERS CHEERED HER<br /> -LOUDLY.</p> -</div> - -<p>With trembling fingers she handed the man twopence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>and took the three wooden balls. A sudden -hush of astonishment fell on the crowd when Aunt -Jane’s curious figure came to the fore. At the first -throw she shook her hat crooked, at the second she -shook a tail of hair down, at the third she shook off -her spectacles. The third ball went wider of the -mark than all the others, and hit a young man on -the shoulder. Seeing Aunt Jane, however, he only -smiled. She demanded another two-pennyworth. The -bystanders cheered her loudly. The crowd round the -cocoanut-shy stall grew. People from afar thought it -was an accident, and crowded up to watch. Then -they saw Aunt Jane and stayed.</p> - -<p>At last, after her sixth shot, Aunt Jane, flushed and -panting and dishevelled, turned to William.</p> - -<p>“It’s much more difficult than it looks, William,” -she said regretfully, as she straightened her hat and -hair. “I would have liked to have knocked one off.”</p> - -<p>“What about me?” said William coldly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she said. “You must try, too.” So she -paid another twopence, and William tried, too. But -the crowd began to melt away at once, and even the -proprietor began to look bored. William realised that -he was an anticlimax and felt dispirited.</p> - -<p>“You should use more <i>force</i>, I think, William,” said -Aunt Jane, “and more directness of aim.”</p> - -<p>William growled.</p> - -<p>“Well, you didn’t do it,” he said aggressively.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Aunt Jane, “but I think with practice——”</p> - -<p>Here William was cheered by the sight of Henry -and Douglas and Ginger, who had all managed to -evade lawful authority, and come to the help of William. -They had decided to hide from Aunt Jane and then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -abscond with William. But Aunt Jane hardly saw -them. She hurried on ahead, her cheeks flushed, her -eyes alight, and her prim little hat awry.</p> - -<p>“It has,” she said, “a decidedly <i>inspiriting</i> effect, -the light and music and crowds—decidedly inspiriting.”</p> - -<p>She halted before a roundabout.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if it’s enjoyable,” she said musingly. -“The circular motion, of course, might be monotonous.”</p> - -<p>However, she decided to try it. She paid for William -and Douglas, and Henry, and Ginger, and herself, and -mounted a giant cock. It began. She clung on for -dear life. It went faster and faster. There came a -gleam into her eyes, a smile of rapture to her lips. -Again the crowd gathered to watch her. She looked -at the people as the roundabout slowed down.</p> - -<p>“How <i>happy</i> they all look,” she said innocently. -“It’s—it’s quite a pleasant motion, isn’t it? It seems -a pity to get off.”</p> - -<p>She stayed on, clinging convulsively to the pole, -with one elastic-sided boot waving wildly. She stayed -on yet again. She seemed to find the circular motion -anything but monotonous. It seemed to give her a -joy that all her blameless life had so far failed to -produce.</p> - -<p>William and Ginger had to climb down, pale and -rather unsteady. Henry and Douglas followed their -example the next time it stopped. But still Aunt Jane -stayed on, smiling blissfully, her hat dangling over -one ear. And still the crowd at the roundabout grew. -The rest of the fair ground was comparatively empty. -All the fun of the fair was centred on Aunt Jane.</p> - -<p>At last she descended from her mount and joined -the rather depressed-looking group of boys who were -her escort.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> - -<p>“It’s curious,” she said, “how much pleasanter is a -circular motion than a straight one. This is much -more exhilarating than, say, a train journey. And, -of course, the music adds to the pleasantness.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, “you jolly well stayed on.”</p> - -<p>“It seemed,” she said, “such a pity to get off.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig13.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">CLINGING CONVULSIVELY TO THE POLE WITH ONE<br /> -ELASTIC-SIDED BOOT WAVING WILDLY.</p> -</div> - -<p>The little party moved from the roundabout followed -by most of the crowd. The crowd liked Aunt Jane. -They wouldn’t have lost sight of her for anything. -Aunt Jane, for the first time in her life, appealed to -the British Public. William and his friends felt themselves -to be in a curious position. They had meant -to leave Aunt Jane to her fate and go off to their -own devices. But it did not seem possible to leave -Aunt Jane, because everything seemed to centre round -Aunt Jane, and they would only have been at the back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -of the crowd instead of at the front. But they felt -that their position as escort of Aunt Jane was not a -dignified one. Moreover, their feats drew forth none -of the applause which Aunt Jane’s feats drew forth. -They felt neglected by the world in general.</p> - -<p>Aunt Jane was next attracted by the poster of the -Fat Woman outside one of the tents. She fixed her -spectacles sternly, and approached the man who was -crying the charms of the damsel.</p> - -<p>“Surely that picture is a gross exaggeration, my -good man?” she said.</p> - -<p>“Hexaggeration?” he repeated. “It isn’t ’arf the -truth. That’s wot it isn’t. It isn’t ’arf the truth. -We—we couldn’t get ’er on the picture if we made -’er as big as wot she is. Hexaggeration? Why—she’s -a walkin’ mountain, that’s wot she is. A reg’lar walkin’ -mountain. Come in and see ’er. Come in and judge -for yerselves. Jus’ come in and see if wot I’m tellin’ -yer isn’t gospel.”</p> - -<p>Somehow or other they were swept in. Aunt Jane -sat on the front seat. She gazed intently upon the Fat -Woman, who sat at her ease upon a small platform.</p> - -<p>“She seems,” said Aunt Jane, “unnaturally large, -certainly.”</p> - -<p>The showman discoursed upon the size of the Fat -Woman, and then invited the audience to draw near.</p> - -<p>“Touch ’er if yer want,” he said. “Touch ’er and -see she’s reel. No decepshun.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Jane drew near with the rest and accosted -the showman.</p> - -<p>“Has she ever tried any of those fat-reducing foods?” -she said.</p> - -<p>The man looked at William.</p> - -<p>“Is she batty?” he said simply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p>“If you’ll give me her address I’ll talk to my doctor -about her. I think something might be done to make -her less abnormal.”</p> - -<p>At this the walking mountain rose threateningly -from her gilded couch.</p> - -<p>“’Ere,” she said, “’oo yer a-callin’ nimes of? You -tell me that. ’Oo yer a-givin’ of yer sauce to? You -talk ter me strite art if yer wants to an’ I’ll talk ter -yer back—not ’arf. Don’t go a ’urlin’ of yer hinsults -at me through <i>’im</i>. My young man—’e’ll talk ter -yer, nah, if yer wants.”</p> - -<p>“’Er young man, he’s the Strong Man in the next -tent,” explained the man. “They’re fiancies, they are. -An’ ’e’s the divil an’ all to tackle, ’e is. I’d advise yer, -as friend to friend, to clear, afore she calls of ’im.”</p> - -<p>But Aunt Jane, the imitation wheat in her hat -trembling with emotion, was already “clearing.”</p> - -<p>“They quite misunderstood,” she said, as soon as she -had “cleared.” “The word ‘abnormal’ conveys no -insult, surely. I think I’ll return and explain. I’ll -refer them to the dictionary and the derivation of the -word. It simply means something outside the usual -rule. If——”</p> - -<p>She was returning eagerly to the tent to explain, -but found the entrance blocked by a crowd, so she was -persuaded to postpone her explanation. Moreover, she -had caught sight of the Hoop-la, and was anxious to -have the system explained to her. William wearily -explained it.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see,” said Aunt Jane, “a test of dexterity -and accuracy of aim. Shall we—shall we try?”</p> - -<p>They tried. They tried till William was tired. She -had determined to “get something” or die. The crowd -was gathering again. They applauded her efforts.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -Aunt Jane was too short-sighted to notice the crowd, -but she heard its shouts.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t everyone <i>encouraging?</i>” she murmured to -William. “It’s most gratifying. It’s really a very -pleasant place.”</p> - -<p>She actually did get something. One of her wildly-flung -hoops fell over a tie-pin of the extremely flashy -variety, which she received with glowing pride and -handed to William. The crowd cheered, but Aunt -Jane was quite oblivious of the crowd.</p> - -<p>“Come along,” she said. “Let’s do something -else.”</p> - -<p>Ginger disconsolately announced his intention of -going home. Henry and Douglas followed his example, -and William was left alone to escort Aunt Jane through -the mazes of the Land of Pleasure. It was at this point -that things really seemed to go to Aunt Jane’s head. -She went down the Helter Skelter four or five times—sailing -down on her little mat with squeaks of joy. -She forgot now to straighten her hat or her hair. -Her eye gleamed with a strange light, her cheeks were -flushed.</p> - -<p>“There’s something quite rejuvenating about it all, -William,” she murmured. She had her fortune told -by a Gipsy Queen, who prophesied an early marriage -with one of her many suitors.</p> - -<p>She went again on the Roundabout, she had another -cocoanut-shy, she went on the Switchback, the Fairy -Boat, and the Wild Sea Waves. William trailed along -behind her. He refused to venture on the Wild Sea -Waves, and watched her on them with a certain -grudging admiration.</p> - -<p>“Crumbs!” he murmured, “she must have gotter -inside of <i>iron!</i>”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig14.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM WAS LEFT ALONE TO ESCORT AUNT JANE<br /> -THROUGH THE MAZES OF THE LAND OF PLEASURE.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> - -<p>Finally Aunt Jane espied a stall at a distance. -Under a flaring gas-flame a man in a white coat was -pulling out long strings of soft candy. Aunt Jane -approached.</p> - -<p>“What an appetising odour!” commented Aunt Jane. -“Do you think he’s <i>selling</i> it?” William thought he -was.</p> - -<p>And the glorious climax of that strange night was -the sight of Aunt Jane standing under the flaring -gas-jet devouring soft pull-out candy.</p> - -<p>“’Ullo! ’Ere’s the gime old bird,” said a man -passing.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see any bird, do you?” said Aunt Jane -to William, peering round with her short-sighted -eyes, “but this is a very palatable confection, is it -not?”</p> - -<p>Then a clock struck, and into Aunt Jane’s face came -the look that Cinderella’s face must have worn when -the clock struck twelve.</p> - -<p>“William,” she said, “that surely was not ten?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Sounded</i> like ten,” said William.</p> - -<p>Aunt Jane put down her last stick of pull-out candy -unfinished.</p> - -<p>“We—we ought to go,” she said weakly.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William’s mother when they returned. -“I do hope it wasn’t too tiring for you.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Jane sat down on a chair and thought. She -thought over the evening. No, she couldn’t really -have done all that—have seen all that. It was impossible—quite -impossible. It must be imagination. -She must have seen someone else doing all those things. -She must have gone quietly round with William and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -watched him enjoy himself. Of course that was all -she’d done. It must have been. The other was -unthinkable.</p> - -<p>So she smiled, a patient, weary little smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, of course,” she said, “I’m a little tired but -I think William enjoyed it.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">“KIDNAPPERS”</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THERE was quite a flutter in the village when the -d’Arceys came to the Grange. A branch of <i>the</i> -d’Arcey family, you know. Lord d’Arcey and Lady -d’Arcey and Lady Barbara d’Arcey. Lady Barbara -was seven years of age. She was fair, frilly, fascinating. -Lady d’Arcey engaged a dancing-master to -come down from London once a week to teach her -dancing. They invited several of the children of the -village to join. They invited William. His mother -was delighted, but William—freckled, untidy, and -seldom clean—was horrified to the depth of his soul. -No entreaties or threats could move him. He said he -didn’t care what they did to him; he said they could -kill him if they liked. He said he’d rather be killed -than go to an ole dancing class anyway, with that soft-looking -kid. Well, he didn’t care who her father was. -She <i>was</i> a soft-looking kid, and he <i>wasn’t</i> going to <i>no</i> -dancing class with her. Wildly ignoring the rules that -govern the uses of the negative, he frequently reiterated -that he <i>wasn’t</i> going to <i>no</i> dancing class with her. He -wouldn’t be seen speaking to her, much less dancing -with her.</p> - -<p>His mother almost wept.</p> - -<p>“You see,” she explained to Ethel, William’s grown-up -sister, “it puts us at a sort of disadvantage. And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -Lady d’Arcey is so <i>nice</i>, and it’s so <i>kind</i> of them to ask -William!”</p> - -<p>William’s sister, however, took a wholly different -view of the matter.</p> - -<p>“It might put them,” she said, “a good deal more -against us if William <i>went!</i>”</p> - -<p>William’s mother admitted that there was something -in that.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig15.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM LAY IN THE LOFT—HIS CHIN RESTING ON<br /> -HIS HANDS, READING.</p> -</div> - -<p>William lay in the loft, reclining at length on his -front, his chin resting on his hands. He was engaged -in reading. On one side of him stood a bottle of -liquorice water, which he had made himself; on the -other was a large slab of cake, which he had stolen -from the larder. On his freckled face was the look of -scowling ferocity that it always wore in any mental -effort. The fact that his jaws had ceased to work, -though the cake was yet unfinished, testified to the -enthralling interest of the story he was reading.</p> - -<p>“Black-hearted Dick dragged the fair maid by the -wrist to the captain’s cave. A bottle of grog stood at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -the captain’s right hand. The captain slipped a mask -over his eyes, and smiled a sinister smile. He twirled -his long black moustachios with one hand.</p> - -<p>“‘Unhand the maiden, dog,’ he said.</p> - -<p>“Then he swept her a stately bow.</p> - -<p>“‘Fair maid,’ he said, ‘unless thy father bring me -sixty thousand crowns to-night, thy doom is sealed. -Thou shalt swing from yon lone pine-tree!’</p> - -<p>“The maiden gave a piercing scream. Then she -looked closely at the masked face.</p> - -<p>“‘Who—who art thou?’ she faltered.</p> - -<p>“Again the captain’s sinister smile flickered beneath -the mask.</p> - -<p>“‘Rudolph of the Red Hand,’ he said.</p> - -<p>“At these terrible words the maiden swooned into -the arms of Black-hearted Dick.</p> - -<p>“‘A-ha,’ said the grim Rudolph, with a sneer. -‘No man lives who does not tremble at those words.’</p> - -<p>“And again that smile curved his dread lips, as he -looked at the yet unconscious maiden.</p> - -<p>“For well he knew that the sixty thousand crowns -would be his that even.</p> - -<p>“‘Let her be treated with all courtesy—till to-night,’ -he said as he turned away.”</p> - -<p>William heaved a deep sigh and took a long draught -of liquorice water.</p> - -<p>It seemed an easy and wholly delightful way of -earning money.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>“They’re awfully nice people,” said Ethel the next -day at breakfast, “and it is so kind of them to ask -us to tea.”</p> - -<p>“Very,” said Mrs. Brown, “and they say, ‘Bring -the little boy’.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> - -<p>The little boy looked up, with the sinister smile he -had been practising.</p> - -<p>“Me?” he said. “Ha!”</p> - -<p>He wished he had a mask, because, though he felt -he could manage the smile quite well, the narrative had -said nothing about the expression of the upper part of -Rudolph of the Red Hand’s face. However, he felt -that his customary scowl would do quite well.</p> - -<p>“You’ll come, dear, won’t you?” said Mrs. Brown -sweetly.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t make him,” said Ethel nervously. “You -know what he’s like sometimes.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown knew. William—a mute, scowling -protest—was no ornament to a drawing-room.</p> - -<p>“But wouldn’t you like to meet the little girl?” -said Mrs. Brown persuasively.</p> - -<p>“Huh!” ejaculated William.</p> - -<p>The monosyllable looks weak and meaningless in -print. As William pronounced it, it was pregnant -with scorn and derision and sinister meaning. He -curled imaginary moustachios as he uttered it. He -looked round upon his assembled family. Then he -uttered the monosyllable again with a yet more sinister -smile and scowl. He wondered if Rudolph of the Red -Hand had a mother who tried to make him go out -to tea. He decided that he probably hadn’t. Life -would be much simpler if you hadn’t.</p> - -<p>With another short, sharp “Ha!” he left the room.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William sat on an old packing-case in a disused barn.</p> - -<p>Before him stood Ginger, who shared the same classroom -in school and pursued much the same occupations -and recreations out of school. They were not a -popular couple in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> - -<p>William was wearing a mask. The story had not -stated what sort of a mask Rudolph of the Red Hand -had worn, but William supposed it was an ordinary -sort of mask. He had one that he’d bought last -Fifth of November, and it seemed a pity to waste -it. Moreover, it had the advantage of having moustachios -attached. It covered his nose and cheeks, -leaving holes for his eyes. It represented fat, red, -smiling cheeks, an enormous red nose, and fluffy grey -whiskers. William, on looking at himself in the glass, -had felt a slight misgiving. It had been appropriate -to the festive season of November 5th, but he wondered -whether it was sufficiently sinister to represent Rudolph -of the Red Hand. However, it was a mask, and he -could turn his lips into a sinister smile under it, and -that was the main thing. He had definitely and finally -embraced a career of crime. On the table before him -stood a bottle of liquorice water with an irregularly -printed label: GROG. He looked round at his brave.</p> - -<p>“Black-hearted Dick,” he said, “you gotter say, -‘Present.’”</p> - -<p>He was rather vague as to how outlaws opened their -meetings, but this seemed the obvious way.</p> - -<p>“Present,” said Ginger, “an’ it’s not much fun if -it’s all goin’ to be like school.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s <i>not</i>,” said William firmly, “an’ you can -have a drink of grog—only one swallow,” he added -anxiously, as he saw Black-hearted Dick throwing his -head well back preparatory to the draught.</p> - -<p>“That was a jolly big one,” he said, torn between -admiration at the feat and annoyance at the disappearance -of his liquorice water.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ginger modestly. “I’ve gotter big -throat. Well, what we goin’ to do first?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig16.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“BLACK-HEARTED DICK,” HE SAID, “YOU’VE GOTTER<br /> -SAY ‘PRESENT.’”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<p>William adjusted his mask, which was not a very -good fit, and performed the sinister smile.</p> - -<p>“We gotter kidnap someone first,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Well, who?” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Someone who can pay us money for ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Well, who?” said Ginger irritably.</p> - -<p>William took a deep draught of liquorice water.</p> - -<p>“Well, you can think of someone.”</p> - -<p>“I like that,” said Ginger, in tones of deep dissatisfaction. -“I <i>like</i> that. You set up to be captain -and wear that thing, and drink up all the liquorice -water——”</p> - -<p>“Grog,” William corrected him, wearily.</p> - -<p>“Well, grog, an’ then you don’t know who we’ve -gotter kidnap. I like that. Might as well be rat -hunting or catching tadpoles or chasin’ cats, if you -don’t know what we’ve gotter do.”</p> - -<p>William snorted and smiled sneeringly beneath his -bilious-looking mask.</p> - -<p>“Huh!” he said. “You come with me and I’ll -find someone for you to kidnap right enough.”</p> - -<p>Ginger cheered up at this news, and William took -another draught of liquorice water. Then he hung up -his mask behind the barn door and took out of his -pocket a battered penknife.</p> - -<p>“We may want arms,” he said; “keep your dagger -handy.”</p> - -<p>He pulled his school cap low down over his eyes. -Ginger did the same, then looked at the one broken -blade of his penknife.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think mine would <i>kill</i> anyone,” he said. -“Does it matter?”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to knock yours on the head with -something,” said Rudolph of the Red Hand grimly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -“You know we may be imprisoned, or hung, or somethin’, -for this.”</p> - -<p>“Rather!” said Ginger, with the true spirit of the -bravado, “an’ I don’t care.”</p> - -<p>They tramped across the fields in silence, William -leading. In spite of his occasional exasperation, Ginger -had infinite trust in William’s capacity for attracting -adventure.</p> - -<p>They walked down the road and across a stile. The -stile led to a field that bordered the Grange. Suddenly -they stopped. A small white figure was crawling -through a gap in the hedge from the park into the -field. William had come out with no definite aim, -but he began to think that Fortune had placed in his -way a tempting prize. He turned round to his follower -with a resonant “’Sh!”, scowled at him, placed his -finger on his lips, twirled imaginary moustachios, and -pulled his cap low over his eyes. Through the trees -inside the park he could just see the figure of a nurse -on a seat leaning against a tree trunk in an attitude -of repose. Suddenly Lady Barbara looked up and -espied William’s fiercely scowling face.</p> - -<p>She put out her tongue.</p> - -<p>William’s scowl deepened.</p> - -<p>She glanced towards her nurse on the other side of -the hedge. Her nurse still slumbered. Then she -accosted William.</p> - -<p>“Hello, funny boy!” she whispered. Rudolph of -the Red Hand froze her with a glance.</p> - -<p>“Quick!” he said. “Seize the maiden and run!”</p> - -<p>With a dramatic gesture he seized the maiden by -one hand, and Ginger seized the other. The maiden -was not hard to seize. She ran along with little -squeals of joy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, what fun! What fun!” she said.</p> - -<p>Inside the barn, William closed the door and sat at -his packing-case. He took a deep draught of liquorice -water and then put on his mask. His victim gave a -wild scream of delight and clapped her hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>funny</i> boy!” she said.</p> - -<p>William was annoyed.</p> - -<p>“It’s not funny,” he said irritably. “It’s jolly well -not funny. You’re kidnapped. That’s what you are. -Unhand the maiden, dog,” he said to Ginger.</p> - -<p>Ginger was looking rather sulky. “All right, I’m -not handing her,” he said, “an’ when you’ve quite -finished with the liquorice water——”</p> - -<p>“Grog,” corrected William, sternly.</p> - -<p>“Well, grog, then, an’ I helped to make it, p’raps -you’ll let me have a drink.”</p> - -<p>William handed him the bottle, with a flourish.</p> - -<p>“Finish it, dog,” he said, with a short, scornful -laugh.</p> - -<p>The vibration of the short, scornful laugh caused his -bacchic mask (never very secure) to fall off on to the -packing-case. Lady Barbara gave another scream of -ecstasy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, do it <i>again</i>, boy,” she said.</p> - -<p>William glanced at her coldly, and put on the mask -again. Then he swept her a stately bow, holding on -to his mask with one hand.</p> - -<p>“Fair maid,” he said, “unless thy father bring me -sixty thousand crowns by to-night, thy doom is sealed. -Thou shalt swing from yon lone pine.”</p> - -<p>He pointed dramatically out of the window to a -diminutive hawthorn hedge.</p> - -<p>The captive whirled round on one foot, fair curls -flying.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig17.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“FAIR MAID,” HE SAID, “UNLESS THY FATHER BRING ME<br /> -SIXTY THOUSAND CROWNS, THOU SHALT SWING FROM YON<br /> -LONE PINE.”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s going to make me a swing! <i>Nice</i> boy!”</p> - -<p>William rose, majestic and stately, still cautiously -holding his mask. “My name,” he said, “is Rudolph -of the Red Hand.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll <i>kiss</i> you, dear Rudolph Hand,” she said, -“if you like.”</p> - -<p>William’s look intimated that he did not like.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re <i>shy!</i>” said Lady Barbara, delightedly.</p> - -<p>“Let her be treated,” William said, “with all -courtesy till this even.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Ginger, “<i>that’s</i> all right, but what we -goin’ to do with her?”</p> - -<p>William glanced disapprovingly at the maiden, who -had turned the packing-case upside down and was -sitting in it.</p> - -<p>“Well, what we goin’ to <i>do?</i>” said Ginger. “It’s -not much fun so far.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we just gotter wait till her people send the -money.”</p> - -<p>“Well, how they goin’ to know we got her, and -where she is, an’ how much we want?”</p> - -<p>William considered. This aspect of the matter had -not struck him.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said at last. “I s’pose you’d better go -an’ tell them.”</p> - -<p>“You can,” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“You’d better go,” said William, “’cause I’m chief.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you’re chief,” said Ginger, “you oughter -go.”</p> - -<p>The kidnapped one emitted a shrill scream.</p> - -<p>“I’m a train,” she said. “Sh! Sh! Sh!”</p> - -<p>“She’s not actin’ right,” said William severely; “she -oughter be faintin’ or somethin’.”</p> - -<p>“How much do we want for her?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> - -<p>“Sixty thousand crowns,” said William.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ginger. “I’ll stay and see she -don’t get away, an’ you go an’ tell her people, an’ don’t -tell anyone but her father and mother, or they’ll go -gettin’ the money themselves.”</p> - -<p>William hung up his mask behind the door and -turned to Ginger, assuming the scowl and attitude of -Rudolph of the Red Hand.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said, “I’ll go into the jaws of death, -and you treat her with all courtesy till even.”</p> - -<p>“Who’s goin’ to curtsey?” said Ginger indignantly.</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand book talk,” said William, -scornfully.</p> - -<p>He bowed low to the maiden, who was still playing -at trains.</p> - -<p>“Rudolph of the Red Hand,” he said slowly, with -a sinister smile.</p> - -<p>The effect was disappointing. She blew him a kiss.</p> - -<p>“Darlin’ Rudolph,” she said.</p> - -<p>William stalked majestically across the fields towards -the Grange, with one hand inside his coat, in -the attitude of Napoleon on the deck of the <i>Bellerophon</i>.</p> - -<p>He went slowly up the drive and up the broad stone -steps. Then he rang the bell. He rang it with the -mighty force with which Rudolph of the Red Hand -would have rung it. It pealed frantically in distant -regions. An indignant footman opened the door.</p> - -<p>“I wish to speak to the master of the house on a -life or death matter,” said William importantly.</p> - -<p>He had thought out that phrase on the way up.</p> - -<p>The footman looked him up and down. He looked -him up and down as if he didn’t like him.</p> - -<p>“Ho! <i>do</i> you!” he said. “And hare you aware as -you’ve nearly broke our front-door bell?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> - -<p>The echoes of the bell were just beginning to die -away.</p> - -<p>Rudolph of the Red Hand folded his arms and -emitted a short, sharp laugh.</p> - -<p>“His Lordship,” said the footman, preparing to close -the door, “is <i>hout</i>.”</p> - -<p>“His wife would do, then,” said Rudolph. “Jus’ -tell her it’s a life an’ death matter.”</p> - -<p>“Her Ladyship,” said the footman, “is hengaged, -and hany more of your practical jokes <i>’ere</i>, my lad, and -you’ll hear of it.” He shut the door in William’s face.</p> - -<p>William wandered round the house and looked in -several of the windows; he had a lively encounter with -a gardener, and finally, on peeping into the kitchen -regions with a scornful laugh, was chased off the -premises by the infuriated footman. Saddened, but -not defeated, he returned across the fields to the barn -and flung open the door. Ginger, panting and perspiring, -was dragging the Lady Barbara in the packing-case -round and round the barn by a piece of rope.</p> - -<p>He turned a frowning face to William. A life of -crime was proving less exciting than he had expected.</p> - -<p>“Well, where’s the money?” he said, wiping his -brow. “She’s jus’ about wore me out. She won’t -let me stop draggin’ this thing about. An’ she keeps -worryin’, sayin’ you promised her a swing.”</p> - -<p>“He <i>did!</i>” said the kidnapped one shrilly.</p> - -<p>“Well, where’s the money?” repeated Ginger. “I’ve -jus’ about had enough of kidnappin’.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t <i>get</i> the money,” said William. “I -couldn’t make ’em listen properly. Let’s change, an’ -me stay here an’ you go and get the money.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ginger. “I wun’t mind changing -to do anything from this. What shall I say to ’em?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> - -<p>“You’d better say you must speak to ’em on life -or death. I said that, but they kind of didn’t listen. -They’ll p’raps listen to you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I jolly well don’t mind goin’,” said Ginger: -“she’s a <i>wearin’</i> kid.”</p> - -<p>He went out and shut the door.</p> - -<p>“Put the funny thing on your face,” ordered Lady -Barbara.</p> - -<p>“It’s not funny,” said William coldly, as he adjusted -the mask.</p> - -<p>She danced round him, clapping her hands.</p> - -<p>“<i>Dear</i>, funny boy! An’ now make me the swing.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not goin’ to make you no swing,” said William -firmly.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t make me a swing,” she said, “I’ll sit -down an’ I’ll scream an’ scream till I burst.”</p> - -<p>She began to grow red in the face.</p> - -<p>“There’s no rope,” said William hastily.</p> - -<p>She pointed to a coil of old rope in a dark corner -of the barn.</p> - -<p>“That’s rope, silly,” she said.</p> - -<p>He took it out and began to look round for a suitable -and low enough tree.</p> - -<p>“Be <i>quick!</i>” ordered his victim.</p> - -<p>At last he had the rope tied up.</p> - -<p>“Now lift me in! Now swing me! Go on! <i>More! -More!</i> <span class="smcap">More!</span> Nice, funny boy!”</p> - -<p>She kept him at that for about half an hour. Then -she demanded to be dragged round the barn in the -packing-case.</p> - -<p>“Go <i>on!</i>” she said. “<i>Quicker! Quicker!</i>”</p> - -<p>The fine, manly spirit of Rudolph of the Red Hand -was almost broken. He began to look weary and -disconsolate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> - -<p>When Ginger returned, Lady Barbara was wearing -the mask and chasing William.</p> - -<p>“Go on!” she said, “’tend to be frightened. ’Tend -to be frightened. Go on!”</p> - -<p>William turned to Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Well?” he said.</p> - -<p>Ginger looked rather dishevelled. His collar was -torn away.</p> - -<p>“You might have told me,” he said indignantly.</p> - -<p>“What?” said William.</p> - -<p>“Go <i>on!</i>” said Lady Barbara.</p> - -<p>“That they were like wild beasts up there. They -set on me soon as I said what you told me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, did you get any money?” said William.</p> - -<p>“Now, how could I?” said Ginger irritably, “when -they set on me like wild beasts soon as I said it.”</p> - -<p>“Go <i>on!</i>” said Lady Barbara.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Rudolph of the Red Hand, slowly. -“I’m jus’ about fed up.”</p> - -<p>“An’ you cudn’t be fed upper than I am,” replied -his gallant brave.</p> - -<p>“Well, let’s chuck it,” said William. “It’s getting -tea-time, an’ we’ve got no money, an’ I’m not goin’ -for it again.”</p> - -<p>“Nor’m I,” said Ginger fervently.</p> - -<p>“An’ I’m fed up with this kid.”</p> - -<p>“So’m I,” said Ginger still more fervently.</p> - -<p>“Well, let’s chuck it.”</p> - -<p>He turned to Lady Barbara. “You can go home,” -he said.</p> - -<p>Her face fell.</p> - -<p>“I don’t <i>want</i> to go home,” she said; “I’m going -to stay with you always and always.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, you’re not,” said William shortly, “’cause -we’re going home—so there.”</p> - -<p>He set off with Ginger across the fields. The kidnapped -one ran lightly beside them.</p> - -<p>“I’m going where you go,” she said. “I <i>like</i> you.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig18.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“WE KIDNAPPED A KID,” SAID WILLIAM, DISCONSOLATELY,<br /> -“AN’ WE CUDN’T GET ANY MONEY FOR HER, AN’ WE CAN’T<br /> -GET RID OF HER.”</p> -</div> - -<p>They felt that her presence would be difficult to -explain to their parents. Dejectedly, they returned -to the barn.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go an’ see if I can see anyone looking for -her,” said William.</p> - -<p>“Get down on your hands and knees and let me ride -on your back,” shouted Lady Barbara. Ginger -wearily obeyed.</p> - -<p>William went out to the road and looked up it and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> -down. There was no one there, except a man walking -in the direction of the Grange. He smiled at the -expression on William’s face.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” he said, “feeling sick, or lost something?”</p> - -<p>“We kidnapped a kid,” said William disconsolately, -“an’ we cudn’t get any money for her, an’ we can’t -get rid of her.”</p> - -<p>The man threw back his head and laughed.</p> - -<p>“Awkward!” he said, “by Jove—jolly awkward! -I suppose you’ll have to take her home.”</p> - -<p>He was no use.</p> - -<p>William turned back to the barn. Lady Barbara -was riding round the barn on Ginger’s back.</p> - -<p>“Go <i>on!</i>” she said. “<i>Quicker!</i>”</p> - -<p>Ginger turned a purple and desperate face to William.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t do something <i>soon</i>,” he said, “I shall -probably go mad and kill someone.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll have to take her back,” said William grimly.</p> - -<p>The kidnappers walked in gloomy silence; the kidnapped -danced along between them, holding a hand -of each.</p> - -<p>“I’m going wherever you go,” she said; “I love -you.”</p> - -<p>Once Ginger spoke.</p> - -<p>“<i>You’re</i> a nice kidnapper,” he said bitterly.</p> - -<p>“I cudn’t help it,” said William. “It all went -different in the book.”</p> - -<p>Near the steps of the front door a lady was standing.</p> - -<p>Ginger turned and fled at the sight of her. Lady -Barbara held William’s hand fast. William hesitated -till flight was impossible.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>there</i> you are, darling,” the lady said.</p> - -<p>“Dear, nice boy,” said Lady Barbara. “He’s been -playing with me all the time. And the other—but the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> -other’s gone. It’s been lovely. I <i>do</i> love him. May -we keep him?”</p> - -<p>“Darling,” said the lady, “I’ve only just heard -you were lost. Nanny’s in a dreadful state. And this -little boy found you and took care of you? <i>Dear</i> -little boy!”</p> - -<p>She bent down and kissed the outraged and horrified -William. “How <i>very</i> kind of you to look after my -little girl and bring her back so nicely. Now come -and have some tea.”</p> - -<p>She led William, too broken in spirit to resist, up -the steps into the hall, then into a room. Lady -Barbara still held his hand tightly. There was tea in -the room and <i>people</i>. Horror of horrors! It was his -mother and Ethel. There were confused explanations.</p> - -<p>“And her nurse went to sleep, and she must have -wandered off and got lost, and your little boy found -her, and played with her, and looked after her, and -brought her back for tea. <i>Dear</i> little man!”</p> - -<p>A man entered—the man who had accosted William -on the road. He was evidently the father of the little -girl. The story was repeated to him.</p> - -<p>“Great!” he said, looking at William with amusement -and a certain sympathy in his eyes. He seemed -to be enjoying the situation. William glared at him.</p> - -<p>“An’ he rode me on his back, and gave me rides in -the box, and made me a swing, and put on a funny -face to make me laugh.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Dear</i> little man!” crooned Lady d’Arcey.</p> - -<p>They put him gently into a chesterfield, and Barbara -sat beside him leaning against him.</p> - -<p>“Nice boy,” she said.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown and Ethel beamed proudly.</p> - -<p>“And he <i>pretends</i>,” said Mrs. Brown, “not to like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -little girls. We misjudge children so sometimes. -You’ll go to the dancing class <i>now</i>, won’t you, dear?” -she ended archly.</p> - -<p>“<i>Dear</i> little fellow!” said Lady d’Arcey.</p> - -<p>It was only the fact that he had no weapon in his -hand and that he had given up the unequal struggle -against the malignancy of Fate that saved William -from murder on a wholesale scale.</p> - -<p>Barbara smiled on him fondly. Barbara’s mother -smiled on him tenderly, his mother and sister smiled -on him proudly, and in their midst Rudolph of the -Red Hand, with rage and shame and humiliation in -his heart, savagely ate his sugared cake.</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM’S EVENING OUT</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM’S family had come up to London for a -holiday. They had brought William with them -chiefly because it was not safe to leave William behind. -William was not the sort of boy who could be trusted -to live a quiet and blameless life at home in the absence -of his parents. He had many noble qualities, but he -had not that one. So William gloomily and reluctantly -accompanied his family to London.</p> - -<p>William’s elder sister and mother lived in a whirl -of shopping and theatres; William’s elder brother went -every day to see a county cricket match, and returned -in a state of frenzied excitement to discuss the play -and players all the evening without the slightest -encouragement from any one; William’s father foregathered -with old cronies at his club or slept in the -hotel smoking-room.</p> - -<p>It was open to William to accompany any of the -members of his family. He might shop and attend -<i>matinées</i> with his mother and Ethel, he might go (on -sufferance) to watch cricket matches with Robert, or -he might sleep in the smoking-room with his father.</p> - -<p>He was encouraged by each of them to join some -other member of the family, and he occasionally -managed to evade them all and spend the afternoon -sliding down the banisters (till firmly, but politely, -checked by the manager of the hotel), watching for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -any temporary absence of the liftman during which -he might try to manipulate the machine itself or contending -with the most impudent-looking page-boy in -a silent and furtive rivalry in grimaces. But, in spite -of this, he was supremely bored. He regarded the -centre of the British Empire with contempt.</p> - -<p>“<i>Streets!</i>” he said, with devastating scorn, at the -end of his first day here. “<i>Shops!</i> Huh!”</p> - -<p>William’s soul pined for the fields and lanes and -woods of his home; for his band of boon companions, -with whom he was wont to wrestle, and fight, and -trespass, and plot dare-devil schemes, and set the -world at defiance; for the irate farmers who helped to -supply that spice of danger and excitement without -which life to William and his friends was unendurable.</p> - -<p>He took his London pleasures sadly.</p> - -<p>“Oh—<i>history!</i>” he remarked coldly, when they -escorted him round Westminster Abbey. His only -comment on being shown the Tower was that it seemed -to be takin’ up the whole day, not that there was -much else to do, anyway.</p> - -<p>His soul yearned for the society of his own kind. -The son of his mother’s cousin, who lived near, had -come to see him one day. He was a tall, pale boy, -who asked William if he could fox-trot, and if he -didn’t adore Axel Haig’s etchings, and if he didn’t -prefer Paris to London. The conversation was an -unsatisfactory one, and the acquaintance did not ripen.</p> - -<p>But, accompanying his family on various short cuts -in the back streets of London, he had glimpsed another -world, a world of street urchins, who fought and -wrestled, and gave vent to piercing whistles, and hung -on to the backs of carts, and paddled in the gutter, -and rang front-door bells and fled from policemen.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> -He watched it wistfully. Socially, his tastes were not -high. All he demanded from life was danger and -excitement and movement and the society of his own -kind. He liked boys, crowds of boys, boys who shouted -and whistled and ran and courted danger, boys who -had never heard of any silly old etchings.</p> - -<p>As he followed his family with his air of patient -martyrdom on all their expeditions, it was the glimpse -of this underworld alone that would lift the shadow -from his furrowed brow and bring a light to his stern, -freckled countenance.... There were times when he -stopped and tried to get into contact with it, but it -was not successful. His mother’s “Come along, -William! Don’t speak to those horrid little boys,” -always recalled him to the blameless and palling -respectability of his own family. Yet even before -that hateful cry interrupted him he knew that it was -useless.</p> - -<p>He was an alien being—a clean little boy in a neat -suit, with a fashionable mother and sister. He was -beyond the pale, an outsider, a pariah, a creature to -be mocked and jeered at. The position galled William. -He was, by instinct, on the side of the lawless—the -anti-respectable.</p> - -<p>His spirits rose as the time for his return to the -country approached. Yet there was a wistful longing -at his heart for the boy world of London still unexplored, -as well as a fierce contempt for the London -his parents had revealed to him.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William had been invited to a party on his last -evening in London. William’s mother’s cousin lived -in Kensington, and had invited William to a “little -gathering of her children’s friends.” William did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -wish to go to the party. What is more, William did -not intend to go to the party. But a wonderful plan -had come into William’s head.</p> - -<p>“It’s very kind of her,” he said meekly. “Yes, I’ll -be very pleased to go.”</p> - -<p>This was unlike William’s usual manner of receiving -an invitation to a party. Generally there were -expostulations, indignation, assertion of complete incapacity -to go to anything that particular night. -William’s mother looked at him.</p> - -<p>“You—you feel all right, don’t you, dear?” she -said anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said William, “an’ I feel I’d jus’ like -a party.”</p> - -<p>“You can wear your Eton suit,” said Mrs. Brown.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said William. “I’d like that.”</p> - -<p>William’s face was quite expressionless as he spoke. -Mrs. Brown pinched herself to make sure that she -was awake.</p> - -<p>“I expect they’ll have music and dancing and that -sort of thing,” she said.</p> - -<p>She thought, perhaps, that William had misunderstood -the kind of party it would be.</p> - -<p>William’s expressionless face did not change.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” he said pleasantly, “music an’ dancin’ -will be fine.”</p> - -<p>When Mr. Brown was told of the invitation he -groaned.</p> - -<p>“And I suppose it will take the whole day to make -him go,” he said.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mrs. Brown eagerly. “That’s the strange -part. He seems to <i>want</i> to go. He really does. -And he seems to <i>want</i> to wear his Eton suit, and you -know what a bother that used to be. I suppose he’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> -beginning to take a pride in his appearance. I think -London must be civilising him.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Brown, dryly, “I suppose you -know best. I suppose miracles do happen.”</p> - -<p>When the evening of the party arrived, there was -some difficulty as to the transit of William to his place -of entertainment. The house was so near to the hotel -where the Browns were staying that a taxi seemed -hardly worth while. But there was a general reluctance -to be his escort.</p> - -<p>Ethel was going to a theatre, and Robert had been -out all day and thought he deserved a bit of rest in -the evening, instead of carting kids about, Mrs. Brown’s -rheumatism had come on again, and Mr. Brown wanted -to read the evening paper.</p> - -<p>William, sleek and smooth, and brushed and encased -in his Eton suit, his freckled face shining with cleanliness -and virtue, broke meekly into the discussion.</p> - -<p>“I know the way, mother. Can’t I just go myself?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown wavered.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why not,” she said at last.</p> - -<p>“If you think that boy can walk three yards by -himself without getting into mischief——” began Mr. -Brown.</p> - -<p>William turned innocent, reproachful eyes upon -him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but <i>look</i> at him,” said Mrs. Brown; “and it -isn’t as if he didn’t want to go to the party. You -want to go, don’t you, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mother,” said William, meekly.</p> - -<p>His father threw him a keen glance.</p> - -<p>“Well, of course,” he said, returning to his paper, -“do as you like. I’m certainly not going with him -myself, but don’t blame me if he blows up the Houses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> -of Parliament or dams the Thames, or pulls down -Nelson’s Monument.”</p> - -<p>William’s sorrowful, wistful glance was turned again -upon his father.</p> - -<p>“I won’t do any of those things, I promise, father,” -he said solemnly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why he shouldn’t go alone,” said Mrs. -Brown. “It’s not far, and he’s sure to be good, -because he’s looking forward to it so; aren’t you, -William?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, mother,” said William, with his most inscrutable -expression.</p> - -<p>So he went alone.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William set off briskly down the street—a neat figure -in an Eton suit, an overcoat, a well-fitting cap and -patent leather shoes.</p> - -<p>His expression had relaxed as soon as the scrutiny -of his family was withdrawn. It became expectant -and determined.</p> - -<p>Once out of the sight of possible watchers from the -hotel, he turned off the road that led to his mother’s -cousin’s house, and walked purposefully down a side -street and thence to another side street.</p> - -<p>There they were. He knew they would be there. -Boys—boys after William’s own heart—dirty boys, -shouting boys, whistling boys, fighting boys. William -approached. At his own home he would have been -acclaimed at once as leader of any lawless horde. But -here he was not known. His present appearance, -moreover—brushed hair, evening clothes, clean face—was -against him. To them he was a thing taboo. -They turned on him with delightful yells of scorn.</p> - -<p>“Yah!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> - -<p>“Where’s yer mammy?”</p> - -<p>“Look at ’is shoes! Boo-oo!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Isn’t</i> ’is ’air brushed nice?”</p> - -<p>“Yah!”</p> - -<p>“Boo!”</p> - -<p>“Garn!”</p> - -<p>The tallest of them snatched William’s cap from -his head and ran off with it. The snatching of a boy’s -cap from his head is a deadly insult. William, whose -one wistful desire was to be friends with his new -acquaintances, yet had his dignity to maintain. He -flew after the boy and caught him by the back of -his neck. Then they closed.</p> - -<p>The rest of the tribe stood round them in a ring, -giving advice and encouragement. Their contempt for -William vanished. For William was a good fighter. -He lost his collar and acquired a black eye; and his -hair, in the exhilaration of the contest, recovered from -its recent severe brushing and returned to its favourite -vertical angle.</p> - -<p>The two were fairly well matched, and the fight was -a most satisfactory one till the cry of “Cops” brought -it to an abrupt end, and the crowd of boys, with -William now in the middle, fled precipitately down -another street. When they were at a safe distance -from the blue helmet, they stopped, and the large boy -handed William his cap.</p> - -<p>“’Ere you <i>are</i>,” he said, with a certain respect.</p> - -<p>William, with a careless gesture, tossed the cap into -the air. “Don’t want it,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Wot’s yer nime?”</p> - -<p>“William.”</p> - -<p>“’E’s called Bill,” said the boy to the others.</p> - -<p>William read in their faces a growing interest, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> -quite friendship yet, but still not quite contempt. -He glowed with pride. He put his hands into the -pockets of his overcoat and there met—a sixpence—joy!</p> - -<p>“Wot’s your name?” he said to his late adversary.</p> - -<p>“’Erb,” said the other, still staring at William with -interest.</p> - -<p>“Come on, ’Erb,” said William jauntily, “let’s buy -some sweets, eh?”</p> - -<p>He entered a small, unsavouring sweetshop, and the -whole tribe crowded in after him. He and ’Erb discussed -the rival merits of bulls’ eyes and cokernut -kisses at length.</p> - -<p>“Them larses longer,” said ’Erb, “but these ’ere -tases nicer.”</p> - -<p>Finally, William airily tasted one of the cokernut -kisses and the whole tribe followed his example—to -be chased by the indignant shopkeeper all the way -down the street.</p> - -<p>“<i>Eatin’</i> of ’em!” he shouted furiously. “<i>Eatin’</i> of -’em without <i>payin’</i> for ’em. I’ll set the cops on ye—ye -young thieves.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>They rushed along the next street shouting, whistling -and pushing each other. William’s whistle was louder -than any, he ran the foremost. The lust of lawlessness -was growing on him. They swarmed in at the next -sweetshop, and William purchased sixpennyworth of -bulls’ eyes and poured them recklessly out of the bag -into the grimy, outstretched palms that surrounded -him.</p> - -<p>William had no idea where he was. His hands were -as grimy as the hands of his companions, his face -was streaked with dirt wherever his hands had touched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> -it, his eye was black, his collar was gone, his hair -was wild, his overcoat had lost its look of tailored -freshness. And he was happy at last.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig19.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM WAS HAPPY AT LAST. HE WAS A BOY AMONG<br /> -BOYS—AN OUTLAW AMONG OUTLAWS</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span></p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig20.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THEY RUSHED ALONG THE NEXT<br /> -STREET, SHOUTING AND WHISTLING.</p> -</div> - -<p>He was no -longer a little -gentleman staying -at a select -hotel with his -family. He was -a boy among -boys—an outlaw -among outlaws -once more. -He was no longer -a pariah. He -had proved his -valour in fighting -and running -and whistling. -He was almost -accepted, not -quite. He was -alight with exhilaration.</p> - -<p>In the next -street a watering -cart had just -passed, and there -was a broad -muddy stream -flowing along the -gutter. With a -whoop of joy the -tribe made for it, -’Erb at the head, -closely followed -by William.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> - -<p>William’s patent leather shoes began to lose their -damning smartness. It was William who began to -stamp as he walked, and the rest at once followed -suit—splashing, shouting, whistling, jostling, they -followed the muddy stream through street after street. -At every corner William seemed to shed yet another -portion of the nice equipment of the boy-who-is-going-to-a-party. -No party would have claimed him now—no -hostess greeted him—no housemaid admitted -him—he had completely “burned his boats.” But he -was happy.</p> - -<p>All good things come to an end, however, even a -muddy stream in a gutter, and ’Erb, still leader, called -out: “Come on, you chaps! Come on, Bill—bells!”</p> - -<p>Along both sides of a street they flew at break-neck -speed, pulling every bell as they passed. Three -enraged householders pursued them. One of them, -fleeter than the other two, caught the smallest and -slowest of the tribe and began to execute corporal -punishment.</p> - -<p>It was William who returned, charged from behind, -left the householder winded in the gutter, and dragged -the yelling scapegoat to the shelter of his tribe.</p> - -<p>“Good ole Bill,” said ’Erb, and William’s heart -swelled again with pride. Nothing on earth would -now have checked his victorious career.</p> - -<p>A motor-van passed with another gang of street-urchins -hanging on merrily behind. With a yell of -battle, William hurled himself upon them, struggled -with them in mid-air, and established himself, cheering -on his own tribe and pushing off the others.</p> - -<p>In the fight William lost his overcoat, his Eton coat -was torn from top to bottom, and his waistcoat ripped -open. But his tribe won the day; the rival tribe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -dropped off, hurling ineffectual taunts and insults, and -on sailed William and his gang, half-running, half-riding, -with an exhilarating mixture of physical exercise -and joy-riding unknown to the more law-abiding -citizen.</p> - -<p>And in the midst was William—William serene and -triumphant, William dirty and ragged, William -acclaimed leader at last. The motor-van put on speed. -There was a ride of pure breathless joy and peril -before, at last exhausted, they dropped off.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Then ’Erb turned to William: “Wot you doin’ -to-night, maite?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Maite!” William’s heart glowed.</p> - -<p>“Nothin’, maite,” answered William carelessly.</p> - -<p>“Oi’m goin’ to the picshers,” said ’Erb. “If you -loike ter ’elp my o’d woman with the corfee-stall, she’ll -give yer a tanner.”</p> - -<p>A coffee-stall—Oh, joy! Was the magic of this -evening inexhaustible?</p> - -<p>“Oi’ll ’elp ’er orl <i>roight</i>, maite,” said William, making -an effort to acquire his new friend’s accent and -intonation.</p> - -<p>“Oi’ll taike yer near up to it,” said ’Erb, and to -the gang: “Nah, you run orf ’ome, kids. Me an’ -Bill is busy.”</p> - -<p>He gave William a piece of chewing-gum, which -William proudly took and chewed and swallowed, and -led him to a street-corner, from where a coffee-stall -could be seen in a glare of flaming oil-jets.</p> - -<p>“You just say ‘’Erb sent me,’ an’ you bet you’ll -get a tanner when she shuts up—if she’s not in a -paddy. Go on. Goo’-night.”</p> - -<p>He fled, leaving William to approach the stall alone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> -A large, untidy woman regarded him with arms -akimbo.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come ter ’elp with the stall,” said William, -trying to speak with the purest of Cockney accents. -“’Erb sent me.”</p> - -<p>The woman regarded him with a hostile stare, still -with arms akimbo.</p> - -<p>“Oh, ’e did, did ’e? ’E’s allus ready ter send someone -else. ’E’s gone ter the picshers, I suppose? ’E’s -a nice son fer a poor woman ter ’ave, isn’t ’e? Larkin’ -abaht orl day an’ goin’ ter picshers orl night—an’ -where do <i>Oi</i> come in? I asks yer, where do <i>Oi</i> come -in?”</p> - -<p>William, feeling that some reply was expected, said -that he didn’t know. She looked him up and down. -Her expression implied that her conclusions were far -from complimentary.</p> - -<p>“An’ <i>you</i>—I serpose—one of the young divvils ’e -picks up from ’Evving knows where. Told yer yer’d -git a tanner, I serpose? Well, yer’ll git a tanner if -yer be’aves ter <i>my</i> likin’, an yer’ll git a box on the -ears if yer don’. Oh, come on, do; don’t stand there -orl night. ’Ere’s the hapron—buns is a penny each, -an’ sangwiches a penny each, and cups o’ corfy a -penny each. Git a move on.”</p> - -<p>He was actually installed behind the counter. He -was actually covered from neck to foot in a white -apron. His rapture knew no bounds. He served -strong men with sandwiches and cups of coffee. He -dropped their pennies into the wooden till. He gave -change (generally wrong). He turned the handle of -the fascinating urn. He could not resist the handle -of the little urn. When there were no customers he -turned the handle, to see the little brown stream gush<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -out in little spurts on to the floor or on to the -counter.</p> - -<p>His feeling of importance as he handed over buns -and received pennies was indescribable. He felt like a -king—like a god. He had forgotten all about his -family....</p> - -<p>Then the stout lady presented him with a bowl of -hot water, a dish-cloth, and a towel, and told him to -wash up. Wash up! He had never washed up before. -He swished the water round the bowl with the dish-cloth -very fast one way, and then quickly changed and -swished it round the other. It was fascinating. He -lifted the dish-cloth high out of the water and swirled -the thin stream to and fro. He soaked his apron and -swamped the floor.</p> - -<p>Finally, his patroness, who had been indulging in a -doze, awoke and fixed eyes of horror upon him.</p> - -<p>“What yer think yer a-doing of?” she said indignantly. -“Yer think yer at the seaside, don’t yer? -Yer think yer’ve got yer little bucket an’ spade, don’t -yer? Waistin’ of good water—spoilin’ of a good -hapron. Where did ’Erb find <i>yer</i>, I’d like ter know. -Picked yer aht of a lunatic asylum, <i>I</i> should say.... -Oh, lumme, ’ere’s toffs comin’. Sharp, now, be ready -wiv the hurn an’ try an’ ’ave a <i>bit</i> of sense, an’ heverythin’ -double price fer toffs, now—don’t forget.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>But William, with a sinking heart, had recognised -the toffs. Looking wildly round he saw a large cap -(presumably ’Erb’s) on a lower shelf of the stall. He -seized it, put it on, and dragged it over his eye. The -“toffs” approached—four of them. One of them, the -elder lady, seemed upset.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen,” she said to the owner of the stall,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -“a little boy anywhere about—a little boy in an -Eton suit?”</p> - -<p>“No, mam,” said the proprietress, “I hain’t seen -no one in a heton suit.”</p> - -<p>“He was going out to a party,” went on Mrs. Brown -breathlessly, “and he must have got lost on the way. -They rang up to say he hadn’t arrived, and the police -have had no news of him, and we’ve traced him to this -locality. You—you haven’t seen a little boy that -looked as if he were going to a party?”</p> - -<p>“No, mam,” said the lady of the coffee-stall. “I -hain’t seen no little boy goin’ to no party this hevening.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, mother,” said Ethel; and William, trying to -hide his face between his cap-brim and his apron, -groaned in spirit as he heard her voice. “Do let’s -have some coffee now we’re here.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, darling,” said Mrs. Brown. “Four cups -of coffee, please.”</p> - -<p>William, still cowering under his cap, poured them -out and handed them over the counter.</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t mistake him,” said Mrs. Brown, -tearfully. “He had a nice blue overcoat over his -Eton suit, and a blue cap to match, and patent leather -shoes, and he was <i>so</i> looking forward to the party, -I can’t think——”</p> - -<p>“How much?” said William’s father to William.</p> - -<p>“Twopence each,” muttered William.</p> - -<p>There was a horrible silence.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” said William’s father suavely, -and William’s heart sank.</p> - -<p>“Twopence each,” he muttered again.</p> - -<p>There was another horrible silence.</p> - -<p>“May I trouble you,” went on William’s father—and -from the deadly politeness of his tone, William realised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -that all was over—“may I trouble you to remove your -cap a moment? Something about your voice and the -lower portion of your face reminds me of a near relative -of mine——”</p> - -<p>But it was Robert who snatched ’Erb’s cap from his -head and stripped his apron from him, and said: “You -young devil!” and Ethel who said: “Goodness, just -<i>look</i> at his clothes,” and Mrs. Brown who said: “Oh, -my darling little William, and I though I’d lost you”; -and the lady of the coffee-stall who said: “Well, yer -can <i>’ave</i> ’im fer all ’e knows abaht washin’-up.”</p> - -<p>And William returned sad but unrepentant to the -bosom of outraged Respectability.</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM ADVERTISES</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">A NEW sweetshop, Mallards by name, had been -opened in the village. It had been the sensation -of the week to William and his friends. For it sold -everything a halfpenny cheaper than Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p>It revolutionised the finances of the Outlaws. The -Outlaws was the secret society which comprised William -and his friends Ginger, Henry, and Douglas. Jumble, -William’s disreputable mongrel, was its mascot.</p> - -<p>The Outlaws patronised Mallards’ generously on the -first Saturday of its career. William spent his whole -threepence there on separate halfpennyworths. He -insisted on the halfpennyworths. He said firmly that -Mr. Moss always let him have halfpennyworths. In -the end the red-haired young woman behind the counter -yielded to him. She yielded reluctantly and scornfully. -She took no interest in his choice. She asked -him in a voice of bored contempt not to finger the -Edinburgh Rock. She muttered as she did up his -package—“waste of paper and time”—“never heard -such nonsense”—“ha’porths <i>indeed</i>.”</p> - -<p>William went out of the shop, placing his five minute -packets in already over-full pockets and keeping out -the sixth for present consumption.</p> - -<p>“I’m not <i>sure</i>,” he said darkly to Ginger and Henry, -who accompanied him—Douglas was away from home—“I’m -not <i>sure</i> as I’m ever going <i>there</i> again—— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>Have a bull’s eye?—I didn’t like the way she looked -at me nor spoke at me—an’ I’ve a jolly <i>good</i> mind -not to go to Mallards next Saturday.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s cheap,” said Ginger, taking out his package. -“Have an aniseed ball?—an’ it’s <i>cheap</i> that matters -in a shop, I should think.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t <i>know</i>,” said William, with an air of -wisdom. “That’s all I say—I jus’ don’t <i>know</i>—-I jus’ -don’t <i>know</i> that cheap’s all that matters.”</p> - -<p>“Well, wot else matters? You tell me that,” said -Henry, crunching up a bull’s eye and an aniseed ball -simultaneously, and taking out his package. “Have a -pear drop?—You jus’ tell me wot matters besides -<i>cheap</i> in a shop.”</p> - -<p>William, perceiving that the general feeling was -against him, put another bull’s eye in his mouth and -waxed irritable.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t talk about it so much,” he said. “You -keep talkin’ an’ talkin’——” Then an argument -occurred to him, and he brought it out with triumph. -“S’pose anyone was a <i>murderer</i>—well, wot would <i>cheap</i> -have to do with it?—S’pose someone wot had a shop -murdered someone—well, I s’pose if they was <i>cheap</i> -you’d say it was all right! Huh!”</p> - -<p>With an expression of intense scorn and amusement -William put the last bull’s eye into his mouth, threw -away the paper, and took out the treacle toffee.</p> - -<p>“Well, who’s she murdered?” said Ginger pugnaciously. -“Jus’ ’cause she din’ want to give you -ha’p’orths you go an’ say she’s <i>murdered</i> someone—— Well, -who’s she murdered, that’s all?—you can’t go -callin’ folks murderers an’ not prove <i>who</i> they’ve -murdered. Bring out <i>who</i> she’s murdered—that’s -all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> - -<p>William was at the moment deeply engrossed in -his treacle toffee.</p> - -<p>The red-haired girl had given it an insufficient -allowance of paper, and in William’s pocket it had -lost even this, and formed a deep attachment to a piece -of putty which a friendly plumber had kindly given -him the day before. The piece of putty was at that -moment the apple of William’s eye. He detached it -gently from the toffee and examined it tenderly to -make sure that it was not harmed. Finally he replaced -it in his pocket and put the toffee in his mouth. -Then he returned to the argument.</p> - -<p>“How can I bring out who she’s murdered if she’s -murdered them. That’s a sens’ble thing to say, isn’t -it? If she’s <i>murdered</i> ’em she’s <i>buried</i> ’em. Do you -think folks wot murder folks leaves ’em about for -other folks to bring out to show they’ve murdered -’em? You’ve not got much sense. That’s all I say. -You don’t know much about <i>murderers</i>. Why do you -keep talkin’ about murderers if you don’t know anything -about ’em?”</p> - -<p>Ginger was growing slightly bewildered. Arguments -with William often left him bewildered. He was -inclined, on the whole, to think that perhaps William -was right, and she had murdered someone.</p> - -<p>At this point Jumble created a diversion. Jumble -loved treacle toffee, and he had caught a whiff of the -divine perfume. He sat up promptly to beg for some, -but the Outlaws’ mascot was seldom lucky himself. -He sat up on the very edge of a ditch, and William -could not resist giving him a push.</p> - -<p>Jumble picked himself out of the bottom of the -ditch and shook off the water, grinning and wagging -his tail. Jumble was a sportsman. William had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -finished the treacle toffee, but Henry threw Jumble an -aniseed ball, which he licked, rolled with his paw, and -abandoned, and which Henry then carefully put back -with the others in his packet. Then William threw a -stick for him, and the discussion of the red-haired girl’s -morals was definitely abandoned.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>At the corner of the road they espied Joan Crewe. -Though fluffy and curled and exquisitely dressed -herself, Joan adored William’s roughness and untidiness.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” said Joan.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” said the Outlaws.</p> - -<p>“Have you been to Mallards’?” said Joan.</p> - -<p>“Umph!” said the Outlaws.</p> - -<p>“It’s a halfpenny cheaper than Moss’.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Ginger, “but William says she’s a -murderer.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>di’n’t</i>,” said William irritably. “You can’t -understand English. That’s wot’s wrong with you. -You can’t understand English. Wot I said <i>was</i>——”</p> - -<p>Finding that he had entirely forgotten how the -argument arose he hastily changed the subject. “Wot -you’re goin’ to do now?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Anything,” said Joan obligingly.</p> - -<p>“Have a coco-nut lump?” said William, taking out -his third bag.</p> - -<p>“Have an aniseed ball?” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Have a pear drop?” said Henry.</p> - -<p>Joan took one of each and took out a bag from -her pocket.</p> - -<p>“Have a liquorice treasure?” she said.</p> - -<p>Munching cheerfully they walked along the road, -stopping to throw a stick for Jumble every now and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> -then. Jumble then performed his “trick.” His -“trick” was to walk between William and Ginger, a -paw in each of their hands. It was a “trick” that -Jumble cordially detested. He generally managed to -avoid it. The word “trick” generally sent him flying -towards the horizon like an arrow from a bow. But -this time he was hoping that William still had some -treacle toffee concealed on his person, and did not take -to his heels in time. He was finally released with a -kiss from Joan on the end of his nose. In joy at his -freedom, he found a stick, worried it, ran after his -tail, and finally darted down the road.</p> - -<p>“Have a monkey-nut?” said William.</p> - -<p>They partook of his last packet.</p> - -<p>“I once heard a boy say,” said Henry solemnly, -“that people who eat monkey-nuts get monkey puzzle -trees growin’ out of their mouths.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t s’pose,” said Ginger, as he swallowed his, -“that jus’ a few could do it.”</p> - -<p>“Anyway, it would be rather interestin’,” said -William, “going about with a tree comin’ out of your -mouth—you could slash things about with it.”</p> - -<p>“But think of the orful pain,” said Henry dejectedly; -“roots growin’ inside your stomach.”</p> - -<p>Joan handed her monkey-nut back to William.</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t think I’ll have one, thank you, William,” -she said.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said William, philosophically cracking -it and putting it into his mouth. “I don’t mind eatin’ -’em. Let ’em start growin’ trees out of <i>my</i> stomach -if they <i>can</i>.”</p> - -<p>They were nearing a little old-fashioned sweetshop. -A man in check trousers, shirt-sleeves, and a white -apron stood in the doorway. Generally Mr. Moss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -radiated cheerfulness. To-day he looked depressed. -They approached him somewhat guiltily.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said. “You coming to spend your -Saturday money?”</p> - -<p>“Er—no,” said William.</p> - -<p>“We’ve spent it,” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“At Mallard’s,” said Henry.</p> - -<p>“It’s—it’s a halfpenny cheaper,” said Joan.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Moss, “I don’t blame you. Mind, -I don’t blame you. You’re quite right to go where -it’s a halfpenny cheaper. You’d be foolish if you -didn’t go where it’s a halfpenny cheaper. But all I -say is it’s not fair on me. They’re a big company, -they are, and I’m not. They’ve got shops all over the -big towns they have, and I’ve not. They’ve got -capital behind ’em, they have, an’ I’ve not. They can -afford to give things away, an’ I can’t. I’ve always -kept prices as low as I could so as jus’ to be able to -keep myself on ’em, an’ I can’t lower them no further. -That’s where they’ve got me. They can undercut. -They don’t need to make a profit at first. An’ all I -say is it’s not fair on me. They say as this here place -is growin’ an’ there’s room for the two of us. Well, -all I can say is not more’n ten people’s come into this -here shop since they set up, an’ it’s not fair on me.”</p> - -<p>His audience of four, clustered around his shop-door, -listened in big-eyed admiration. As he stopped for -breath, William said earnestly:</p> - -<p>“Well, we won’t buy no <i>more</i> of their ole stuff, -anyway——”</p> - -<p>The Outlaws confirmed this statement eagerly, but -Mr. Moss raised his hand. “No,” he said. “You -oughter go where you get stuff cheapest. I don’t -blame you. You’re quite right.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>They walked alone in silence for a little while. The -memory of Mr. Moss, wistful and bewildered, with his -cheerful hilarity gone, remained with them.</p> - -<p>“I won’t go to that old Mallards’ again while I live,” -said William firmly.</p> - -<p>“Anyway, she wasn’t nice. I didn’t like her,” said -Joan.</p> - -<p>“She didn’t <i>care</i> what you bought,” said William -indignantly. “She didn’t take any <i>interest</i> like wot -Mr. Moss does.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, an’ if she <i>murders</i> folks as William says she -does——” began Ginger.</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d shut <i>up</i> talking about that,” said -William. “I di’n’t say she’d murdered anyone.”</p> - -<p>“You did.”</p> - -<p>“I di’n’t.”</p> - -<p>“You <i>did</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>di’n’t</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Do have another liquorice treasure,” said Joan.</p> - -<p>Peaceful munchings were resumed.</p> - -<p>“Anyway,” said William, returning to the matter -in hand, “I’d like to <i>do</i> something for Mr. Moss.”</p> - -<p>“Wot <i>could</i> we do?” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“We could stop folks goin’ to old Mallards’—’Tisn’t -as if she took any <i>in</i>t’rest in wot you buy.”</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>how</i> could we stop folks goin’ to ole -Mallards’?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Make</i> ’em go to Mr. Moss.”</p> - -<p>“Well, <i>how</i>—why don’ you say <i>how?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’d have to have a meeting about it—an -Outlaw meeting. Let’s have one now. Let’s go to -our woodshed an’ have one now.”</p> - -<p>Joan’s face fell.</p> - -<p>“I can’t come, can I? I’m not an Outlaw.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> - -<p>“You can be an Outlaw ally,” said William kindly. -“We’ll make up a special oath, for you, an’ give you -a special secret sign.”</p> - -<p>Joan’s eyes shone.</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you, William darling.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Joan had taken the special oath. It had consisted -of the words: “I will not betray the secrets of the -Outlaws, an’ I will stick up for the Outlaws till death -do us part.”</p> - -<p>The last phrase was an inspiration of Henry’s, who -had been to his cousin’s wedding the week before.</p> - -<p>They sat down on logs or stacks of firewood or -packing-cases to consider the question of Mr. Moss.</p> - -<p>“First thing is,” said William, with a business-like -frown, “we’ve got to make people go to Mr. Moss.”</p> - -<p>“Well, how can we?” objected Ginger. “Jus’ tell -me that? How can we make people go to Moss’ -when Mallards’ is halfpenny cheaper?”</p> - -<p>“Same way as big shops make people go to them—they -put up notices an’ things—they say their things -is better than other shops’ things, an’ folks believes -’em.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why should folks believe ’em?” said Ginger -pugnaciously. Henry was engaged upon his last few -pear drops and had no time for conversation. “Why -should folks b’lieve ’em when they say they’re better -than other shops? An’ how can we stick up notices -an’ where an’ who’ll let us stick up notices? You -don’t talk sense. You’re mad, that’s wot you are. -First you go about calling folks murderers when you -don’t know <i>who</i> they’ve murdered, nor nothin’ about -it, an’ then you talk about stickin’ up notices when -there isn’t anyone who’d let us stick up any notices,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -nor anyone who’d take any notice of notices wot we -stuck up nor——”</p> - -<p>“If you’d jus’ stop <i>talkin’</i>,” said William, “an’ -deafenin’ us all for jus’ a bit. You’ve been talkin’ -an’ deafenin’ us all ever since you came out. D’you -think we never want to hear anythin’ all our lives -ever till death, but you talkin’ an’ deafenin’ us all? -There <i>is</i> things that we’d like to hear ’sides you talkin’ -an’ deafenin’ us all—there’s music an’ birds singing, -an’—an’ other folks talkin’, but you go on so’s anyone -would think that——”</p> - -<p>Here Ginger hurled himself upon William, and the -two of them rolled on to the floor and wrestled among -the faggots. Violent physical encounters were a -regular part of the programme of the Outlaws’ meetings. -Henry watched nonchalantly from his perch, crunching -pear drops, occasionally throwing small twigs at them, -and saying: “Go it!”—“That’s right!”—“Go <i>it!</i>” -Joan watched with anxious horror, and “William, do -be <i>careful</i>,” and: “Oh, Ginger, darling, don’t <i>hurt</i> -him.”</p> - -<p>Finally the combatants rose, dusty and dishevelled, -shook hands, and resumed their seats on the stacks -of firewood.</p> - -<p>“Now, if you’ll only let me <i>speak</i>——” began -William.</p> - -<p>“We will, William, darling,” said Joan. “Ginger -won’t interrupt, will you, Ginger?”</p> - -<p>Ginger, who had decidedly had the worst of the -battle, was removing dust and twigs from his mouth. -He gave a non-committal grunt.</p> - -<p>“Well, you know the Sale of Work next week?” went -on William. They groaned. It was a ceremony to -which each of the company would be led, brushed and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -combed and dressed in gala clothes, in a proud parent’s -wake.</p> - -<p>“Well,” went on William. “You jus’ listen carefully. -I got an idea.”</p> - -<p>They leant forward eagerly. They had a touching -faith in William’s ideas that no amount of bitter -experiences seemed able to destroy.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The day of the Sale of Work was warm and cloudless. -William’s mother and sister worked there all the -morning. A tent had been erected, and inside the -tent were a few select stalls of flowers and vegetables. -Outside on the grass were the other stalls. The -opening ceremony was to be performed by a real live -duke.</p> - -<p>William absented himself for the greater part of the -morning, returning in time for lunch, and meekly -offering himself to be cleaned and dressed afterwards -like the proverbial lamb for the slaughter.</p> - -<p>“William,” said Mrs. Brown to her husband, “is -being almost too good to be true. It’s such a -comfort.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you can take comfort in it,” said Mr. -Brown. “From my knowledge of William, I prefer -him when you know what tricks he’s up to.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think you misjudge him,” said Mrs. Brown, -whose trust in William was almost pathetic.</p> - -<p>“Ethel and I can’t go to the opening, darling,” said -Mrs. Brown at lunch. “I’m rather tired. So I suppose -you’ll wait and go with us later.”</p> - -<p>William smiled his painfully sweet smile.</p> - -<p>“I might as well go early. I might be able to help -someone,” he said shamelessly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> - -<p>Half an hour later William set off alone to the Sale -of Work. He wore his super-best clothes. His hair -was brushed to a chastened, sleek smoothness. He -wore kid gloves. His shoes shone like stars.</p> - -<p>He walked briskly down to the Sale of Work. -Already a gay throng had assembled there. Joan was -there, looking like a piece of thistledown in fluffy -white, with her mother. Ginger was there, stiff and -immaculate, with his mother.</p> - -<p>William, Ginger, and Henry joined forces and stood -talking in low, conspiratorial voices, looking rather -uncomfortable in their excessive cleanness. Joan -looked at them wistfully but was kept close to the -maternal side.</p> - -<p>The real live duke arrived. He was tall and stooping, -and looked very bored and aristocratic.</p> - -<p>Everything was ready for the opening. It was to -take place on the open space of grass at the back of -the tent. The chairs for the committee and the chair -for the duke were close to the tent. Then a space -was railed off from the crowd—from the ordinary -people.</p> - -<p>At the other side of the tent the stalls were deserted. -His Grace stood for a few minutes in the tent by one -of the stalls talking to the vicar’s wife. Then he went -out to open the Sale of Work. A few minutes after his -Grace had departed, William might have been seen to -emerge from beneath the stall, his cap gone, his hair -deranged, his knees dusty, and join Ginger and Henry -in the deserted space behind the tent.</p> - -<p>His Grace stood and uttered the few languid words -that declared the Sale of Work open. But the committee -who were a few yards behind him sat in open-mouthed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -astonishment. For a large placard adorned -his Grace’s coat behind.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig21.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="more">HAVE YOU TRYD<br />MOSSES<br />COKERNUT LUMPS?</span></p> -</div> - - -<p>The committee could think of no course of action -with which to meet this crisis. They could only gasp -with horror, open-eyed and open-mouthed.</p> - -<p>The few gracious words were said. The applause -rose. His Grace turned round to converse pleasantly -with the Vicar’s wife, exposing his back to the view -of the crowd. The applause wavered, then redoubled -ecstatically.</p> - -<p>“Some kind of an advertising job,” said the organist’s -wife.</p> - -<p>But the crowd did not mind what it was. They -held their sides. They clung to each other in helpless -mirth. They followed that tall, slim, elegant figure -with its incongruous placard as it went with the vicar’s -wife round the tent to the stalls. The vicar’s wife -talked nervously, and hysterically. “My dear, I -<i>couldn’t</i>,” she said afterwards. “I didn’t know how -to put it. I couldn’t think of words—and I kept -thinking, suppose he knows and <i>means</i> it to be there. -It somehow seemed better bred to ignore it.”</p> - -<p>The committee clustered together in an anxious -group.</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t there when he came. Someone must -have put it on.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, someone must tell him.”</p> - -<p>“Or creep up and take it off when he isn’t looking.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> - -<p>“My dear—one couldn’t. Suppose he turned round -when one was doing it, and thought one was putting -it <i>on!</i>”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig22.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">HIS GRACE EXAMINED THE PLACARD, THEN TURNED<br /> -TO THE VICAR. “HOW LONG EXACTLY,” HE SAID<br /> -SLOWLY, “HAVE I BEEN WEARING THIS?”</p> -</div> - -<p>“The vicar must tell him—let’s find the vicar. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -think it would come better from a clergyman, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and he might—well, he couldn’t say much -before a clergyman, could he?”</p> - -<p>“And a vicar is so practised in consolation. I think -you’re right—— But who did it?”</p> - -<p>Flustered, panting, distraught, they hastened off in -search of the -vicar.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, his -Grace talked to -the vicar’s wife. -He was beginning -to think that she -was not quite herself. -Her manner -seemed more than -peculiar. He -glanced round. The -stalls were still deserted.</p> - -<p>“They haven’t -begun to buy much -yet, have they?” -he said. “I suppose -I must set the example.”</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig23.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">AT THAT MOMENT, WILLIAM,<br /> -GINGER AND HENRY EMERGED FROM<br /> -BENEATH ONE OF THE STALLS.</p> -</div> - -<p>He wandered -over to a stall and -bought a pink -cushion. Then he -looked around -again, his cushion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -under his arm, his placard still adorning the back of -his coat. The crowd were engaged only in staring at -him; they were fighting to get a glimpse of him; -they were following him about like dogs——</p> - -<p>“I suppose some of these people must know my -name,” he said. “I thought that speech of mine in -the House last week would wake people up——”</p> - -<p>“Er—Oh, yes,” said the vicar’s wife. She blinked -and swallowed. “Er—Oh, yes—indeed, yes—indeed, -yes—I quite agree—er—quite!”</p> - -<p>Here the vicar rescued her.</p> - -<p>The vicar had not quite made up his mind whether -to be jocular or condoling.</p> - -<p>“A splendid attendance, isn’t it, your Grace? -There’s a little thing I want to——” The vicar’s wife -tactfully glided away. “Of course, we all understand—you’re -not responsible—and, on our honour, we aren’t—quite -an accident—the guilty party, however, shall -be found. I assure you he shall—er—shall be found.”</p> - -<p>“Would you mind,” said his Grace patiently, -“telling me of what you are talking?”</p> - -<p>The vicar drew a deep breath, then took the plunge.</p> - -<p>“There’s a small placard on your back,” he said. -“Well, not small—that is—allow me——”</p> - -<p>His Grace hastily felt behind, secured the placard, -tore it off, put on his tortoise-shell spectacles, and -examined it at arm’s length. Then he turned to the -vicar, who was mopping his brow. The committee -were trembling in the background. One of them—Miss -Spence by name—had already succumbed to a -nervous breakdown and had had to go home. Another -was having hysterics in the tent.</p> - -<p>“How long exactly,” asked his Grace slowly, “have -I been wearing this?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p>The vicar smiled mirthlessly, and put up a hand -nervously as if to loosen his collar.</p> - -<p>“Er—quite a matter of minutes—ahem—of minutes -one might say, your Grace, since—ah—ahem—since -the opening, one might almost put it——”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said his Grace, “why the devil didn’t you -tell me before?”</p> - -<p>The vicar put up his hand and coughed reproachfully.</p> - -<p>At this moment William, Ginger and Henry emerged -from beneath one of the stalls, in whose butter-muslined -shelter they had been preparing themselves, and -awaiting the most dramatic moment to appear.</p> - -<p>They all wore “sandwiches” made from sheets of -cardboard and joined over their shoulders by string.</p> - - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="caption">William bore before him— <span class="pad6">—and behind him</span></p> -<img src="images/fig26.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="more">MOSSES TREEKLE TOFFY IS THE BEST <span class="pad6">GET YOUR BULLS EYES AT MOSSES</span></span></p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="caption">Ginger bore before him— <span class="pad6">—and behind him</span></p> -<img src="images/fig27.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="more">YOU WILL LIKE MOSSES MUNKY NUTS <span class="pad6">MOSSES TAKES AN INTREST</span></span></p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="caption">Henry bore before him— <span class="pad6">—and behind him</span></p> -<img src="images/fig28.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="more">GO TO MOSSES FOR FRUTY BITS <span class="pad6">MOSSES MAKES HAPOTHS</span></span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>Solemnly, with expressionless faces and eyes fixed -in front of them, they paraded through the crowd. -His Grace, who had taken off his spectacles, put -them on again. His Grace was a good judge of -faces.</p> - -<p>“Secure that first boy,” he said.</p> - -<p>The vicar, nothing loth, secured William by the -collar and brought him before his Grace. His Grace -held out his placard.</p> - -<p>“Did you—er—attach this to my coat?” he asked -sternly.</p> - -<p>William shook off the vicar’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, as sternly as his Grace. “You see, -we wanted people to go to Mr. Moss’ shop—’cause, -you see, Mallards’ is a big company, an’ he’s not, -an’ they’ve got—er—capitols behind them and he’s -not—see? And we wanted to make people go to -Moss’, and we thought we’d fix up notices wot’d <i>make</i> -people go to Moss’ like big shops do—an’ we knew -no one’d take any notice of our notices if we jus’ put -’em up anywhere, but we thought if we fixed one on to -someone important wot everyone’d be lookin’ at all -the time—an’ he’s awful kind an’ he takes an’ <i>int’rest</i> -an’ he <i>cares</i> wot you get an’ his cokernut lumps is -better’n anyone’s, an’ he makes ha’p’oths without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -makin’ a fuss—an’ he’s awful <i>worried</i>, an’ we wanted -to help him——”</p> - -<p>“An’ <i>she’s</i> a murderer,” piped Ginger.</p> - -<p>Before his Grace could reply Joan wrenched herself -free from her mother’s restraining hand and flew up -to the group.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please <i>don’t</i> do anything to William,” she -pleaded. “It was my fault, too—I’m not a real one, -but I’m an ally—till death do us part, you know.”</p> - -<p>His Grace looked from one to the other. He had -been bored almost to tears by the vicar’s wife and -the committee. With a lightening of the heart he -recognised more entertaining company.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said judicially, “come to the refreshment -tent and we’ll talk it over, over an ice.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The news that his Grace had spent almost the entire -afternoon eating ices with William Brown and those -other children, discussing pirates and Red Indians, and -telling them stories of big game hunting, made the -village gasp.</p> - -<p>The further knowledge that he had asked them to -walk down to the station with him, had called at -Moss’, tasted cokernut lumps, pronounced them -delicious, bought a pound for each of them, and -ordered a monthly supply, left the village almost -paralysed. But everyone went to Mr. Moss’ to ask -for details. Mr. Moss was known as the confectioner -who supplied the Duke of Ashbridge with cokernut -lumps. Mallards’ shop was let to a baker’s the next -month, and the red-haired girl said that <i>she</i> wasn’t -sorry—of all the dead-and-alive holes to work in this -place was the deadest.</p> - -<p>It was Miss Spence who voiced the prevailing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -sentiment about William. She did not say it out of -affection for William. She had no affection for -William.</p> - -<p>William chased her cat and her hens, disturbed her -rest with his unearthly songs and whistles, broke her -windows with his cricket ball, and threw stones over -the hedge into her garden pond.</p> - -<p>But one day, as she watched William progress along -the ditch—William never walked on the road if he -could walk in the ditch—dragging his toes in the mud, -his hands in his pockets, his head poking forward, his -brows frowning, his freckled face stern and determined, -his mouth pucked up to make his devastating whistle, -his train of boy followers behind him, she said slowly: -“There’s something <i>about</i> that boy——”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM AND THE BLACK CAT</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">BUNKER, the old black cat, had been an inhabitant -of William’s home ever since he could remember. -Bunker officially belonged to Ethel, William’s sister, -but he bestowed his presence impartially on every -family in the neighbourhood. He frequently haunted -the next door garden, where lived another black cat, a -petted darling named Luke, belonging to Miss Amelia -Blake.</p> - -<p>William treated all cats with supreme contempt. -Towards his own family’s cat he unbent occasionally -so far as to throw twigs at it or experiment upon it -with pots of coloured paints, but he prided himself -upon despising cats, and considered that their only -use in the world was to give exercise and pleasure to -his beloved mongrel, Jumble.</p> - -<p>When William lay in bed and Miss Amelia Blake’s -tender accents rose nightly to his ears from the next -garden, “Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-<i>ee!</i>” -he would frown scornfully.</p> - -<p>“Huh! All for an ole <i>cat!</i> Fancy <i>knowin’</i> ’em.”</p> - -<p>His boast was that he did not know one cat from -another.</p> - -<p>Bunker was very old and very mangy. He employed -habitually an ear-splitting and horrible yell, long drawn -out and increasing in volume as it neared its nightmare -climax—a yell which William loved to imitate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> - -<p>“Yah-ah-ah-ah-ah-Ah-AH!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown remarked many times that that cat and -that boy would drive him to drink between them, but -at least that boy slept at nights. It was decided one -morning, when Bunker had spent a whole night in -the garden without once relaxing the efforts of his -vocal chords, that Bunker should leave this unsympathetic -world for some sphere where, one hoped, his -voice could be better appreciated, or, at any rate, -submitted to some tuning process.</p> - -<p>“Well, he goes, or I go,” said Mr. Brown. “One or -other of us must be destroyed. The world can’t hold -us both. You can take your choice.”</p> - -<p>Thus Bunker’s fate was sealed.</p> - -<p>Ethel, who had hardly looked at Bunker for months -without disgust, began, now that his dissolution was -imminent, to dwell upon his engaging kittenhood, to -see him in her mind’s eye as a black ball with a blue -ribbon around his neck, and to experience all the -feelings that one ought to experience when one’s -beloved pet is torn from one by Death. She would -even have fondled him if he hadn’t been so mangy. -When his hideous voice upraised itself she would -murmur, “My darling Bunker.” And only a week -ago she had murmured, “Why we <i>keep</i> that cat, I can’t -think.”</p> - -<p>One afternoon when Ethel was at the tennis club, -Mrs. Brown approached William mysteriously.</p> - -<p>“William, dear, I think it would be so kind of you -to take Bunker to Gorton’s now while Ethel is out. -I’ve told Mr. Gorton and he’s expecting him, and it -would be much nicer for Ethel just to hear that it -was all over.”</p> - -<p>Nothing loth to help in Bunker’s destruction,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> -William took the covered basket from the pantry and -went into the garden, caught a glimpse of black fur -beyond the summer-house, crept up behind it, grabbed -it with a triumphant “Would you?” and clapped it -into the basket.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Gorton’s was a wonderland to William—dogs in -cages, cats in cages, guinea-pigs in cages, rabbits in -cages, white rats in cages, tortoises in cages, gold-fish -in bowls.</p> - -<p>Once William had been thrilled to see a monkey -there. William had stood outside the shop for a whole -morning watching it and making encouraging conciliatory -noises to it which it answered by an occasional -jabber that delighted William’s very soul. William -was glad of an errand that gave him an excuse for -wandering round the fascinations of the shop. He -handed his basket to Mr. Gorton, and began his tour -of inspection. He spent half an hour in front of the -cage of a parrot, who screamed repeatedly, “Go—<i>away</i>, -you ass, go <i>away!</i>”</p> - -<p>William would never have tired of the joy of listening -to this, but, discovering that it was almost tea-time, -he reluctantly took up his empty basket and returned.</p> - -<p>When he entered the dining-room, Mrs. Brown was -speaking to Ethel.</p> - -<p>“Ethel, darling, William very kindly took dear -Bunker to Mr. Gorton’s this afternoon. We wanted -you to be spared the pain of knowing till it was over, -but now it’s over and Bunker didn’t suffer at all, -you know, darling, and——”</p> - -<p>At that moment there arose from the garden the -familiar hair-raising, ear-splitting sound. “Yah-ah-ah-ah-AH.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> - -<p>Ethel burst into tears.</p> - -<p>“It’s Bunker’s ghost,” she said, “Oh, it’s his ghost.”</p> - -<p>But it wasn’t Bunker’s ghost, for Bunker’s solid, -earthly, mangy form appeared at that very moment -upon the window-sill.</p> - -<p>William’s heart stood still. In the sudden silence -that greeted the apparition of the earthly body of -Bunker, his mind grasped the important fact that he -must have taken the wrong cat, and that the less he -said about it the better.</p> - -<p>“William,” said Mrs. Brown reproachfully, “you -might have done a little thing like that for your sister.”</p> - -<p>“I thought——” said William feebly, “I mean, -I meant——”</p> - -<p>“Well, you must do it after tea,” said Mrs. Brown -firmly; “it isn’t kind of you to cause your sister all -this unnecessary suffering just because you’re too -lazy to walk down to Gorton’s.”</p> - -<p>His sister, who was finding it difficult to whip up a -loving sorrow for Bunker, while Bunker, mangy and -alive, stared at her through the window, said nothing -and William muttered: “All right—after tea—I’ll go -after tea.”</p> - -<p>He went after tea. He handed the basket to Mr. -Gorton with an unblushing: “There was two really to -be done—here’s the other.”</p> - -<p>He stood oppressed by the thought of his crime, and -waited the return of his basket. He had even lost -interest in Mr. Gorton’s wonderland. When the parrot -screamed, “Go <i>away</i>, you ass, go <i>away</i>,” he replied -huffily, “Go away yourself.”</p> - -<p>As he lay in bed that night, he wondered vaguely -whose cat he had consigned to an untimely death.</p> - -<p>He soon knew.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<p>“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-<i>ee</i>. Where -are you, darling? Luky?—Luky? Luky, Luky, -Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-<i>ee?</i> What’s happened to -you, Luky? Where are you, darling? Luky, Luky, -Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-ee-<i>ee</i>.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to William to go on all night.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William’s excursions in the character of robber chief, -outlaw, or Red Indian, took him many miles outside -the radius of his own village. Three days after the -day of his ill-omened mistake he was passing a wayside -cottage (in the character of a famous detective on the -track of crime), when he noticed a large black cat sitting -upon the doorstep washing its face. There was something -familiar about that cat. William stopped. It -wasn’t Bunker, but was it——</p> - -<p>“Luky,” said William in a hoarse persuasive whisper.</p> - -<p>The large black cat rose purring and came down the -walk to William.</p> - -<p>“Luky,” said William again.</p> - -<p>The large black cat rubbed itself fondly against -William’s boots.</p> - -<p>A woman came out of the cottage smiling.</p> - -<p>“You admirin’ my pussy, little boy?”</p> - -<p>In ordinary circumstances, William would have -resented most bitterly this mode of address and would -have passed on with a silent glance of contempt. But -from William’s heart the load of murder had been -lifted. He almost smiled.</p> - -<p>“Umph!” he said.</p> - -<p>“He <i>is</i> a nice pussy, isn’t he?” went on Luky’s new -owner. “I bought him at Gorton’s, three days ago. -He was just what I wanted—a nice full-grown cat. -Kittens are so destructive. He’s called Twinkie.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> -Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie,” she murmured fondly -bending down to stroke him, her voice rising affectionately -in the scale at each repetition of his -name.</p> - -<p>Luky rubbed himself purring against her boots.</p> - -<p>“There!” she said proudly, “don’t the dear dumb -creature know its new mistress.... There then, -darling. You come in an’ see the beauty lap up its -milk some time, little boy, and I’ll give you a gingerbread. -I like little boys to be fond of animals—especially -cats. Some nasty boys throw sticks and -things at them, but I’m quite sure you wouldn’t, -would you?”</p> - -<p>William muttered something inaudible and set off -down the road, his heart torn between relief at knowing -himself guiltless of the crime of murder and indignant -shame at being accused of an affection for cats—<i>cats!</i> -But he was horrified at the duplicity of Mr. Gorton, -and decided to confront him with it at once. He -hastened to the cage-hung shop and, spending only ten -minutes in front of the box of grass snakes, entered the -cool, dark depths where Mr. Gorton, in his shirt sleeves, -was chewing tobacco.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gorton was a large, burly man with a fat, good-natured-looking -face, and a gentle manner. But Mr. -Gorton obeyed the Scriptures in combining with his -dove-like gentleness a serpent-like cunning.</p> - -<p>“Now look ’ere, young gent,” he said, when William -had laid his accusation before him. “You say I sold -that there hanimal. Now wot you wanted was to be -rid of that hanimal, didn’t you? Well, you’re rid of -it, haren’t you? So wot’ve you got to grumble at? -See? ’As that there hanimal come back to trouble -you? <i>No.</i> I’m as good a judge of a cat’s character,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -I am, as hanyone. I knowed that there cat soon’s I -seed ’im. I says, ‘There’s a hanimal as will curl up -anywheres you like ter put ’im an’ so long’s ’e’s got -’is cushion an’ ’is saucer o’ milk regular, ’e won’t ’anker -after nuffin’ else. ’E won’t go no long torchurous road -journeys tryin’ to find old ’omes. Not ’e. ’E’ll rub -’isself against hanyone wot’ll say ‘Puss, puss.’ ’Sides -which it’s agin’ my feelings as a ’umane man to put -to death a young an’ ’ealthy hanimal.”</p> - -<p>William stared at him.</p> - -<p>“Now the second one you brought, well, ’e was ripe -fer death, all right, an’ it’s a pleasure an’ kindness to -do it in those circs. ’Sides which,” Mr. Gorton went -on as another argument occurred to him, “wot proof -’ave you that this ’ere hanimal of Miss Cliff’s is the -same hanimal wot you brought to me Saturday? -They’re both black cats—no marks on ’em. Well, -there must be ’undreds of black cats same as that—thahsands—<i>millions</i>—just -<i>think</i> of ’em—all hover the -world. Well, jus’ you prove that these two hanimals -is identical.”</p> - -<p>William, having for once in his life met his match -in eloquence, moved away despondently.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said, “I only asked.” He went to -the parrot who was still there, and who greeted him -with an ironical laugh and a cry of: “My <i>word</i>—what -a nut! Oh, my <i>word!</i>”</p> - -<p>William’s spirits rose.</p> - -<p>“How much is the parrot?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Five pounds,” said Mr. Gorton.</p> - -<p>William’s spirits sank again.</p> - -<p>“Snakes one and six—and—and, see here, I’ll <i>give</i> -you a baby tortoise jus’ to stop you worrying about -that hanimal.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> - -<p>William walked home proudly carrying his baby -tortoise in both hands.</p> - -<p>Miss Amelia Blake was in the drawing-room. She -was speaking tearfully to his mother. “And I leave -his saucer of milk out every night and I call him -every night, my poor Luky. I can hardly sleep with -thinking of my darling, perhaps hungry and needing -me.... William, if you see any traces of my Luky -you’ll let me know, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>And William, oppressed by the weight of his guilty -secret, muttered something inaudible and went to -watch the effect of his new pet upon Jumble.</p> - -<p>That night the plaintive cry arose again to his room.</p> - -<p>“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Luk-ee-ee-<i>ee!</i> Luky, -Luky. Where <i>are</i> you, darling? Luky, Luky, Luky, -Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William’s conscience, though absolved of the crime -of murder, felt heavy as Miss Amelia Blake called her -lost pet mournfully night after night.</p> - -<p>Now William’s conscience was a curious organ. It -needed a great deal to rouse it. When roused it -demanded immediate action. He took one of his -white rats round to Miss Amelia Blake, and Miss -Amelia Blake screamed and got on to the table. He -even rose to supreme heights of self-denial, and offered -her his baby tortoise, but she refused it.</p> - -<p>“No, William dear, it’s very kind of you, but what -I need is something I can stroke—and I don’t want -anything but my Luky—and I—I don’t like its -expression—it looks as if it might bite. I <i>couldn’t</i> -stroke that!”</p> - -<p>Greatly relieved, William took it back.</p> - -<p>That afternoon, perched on the garden fence, his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> -elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, he watched -the antics of Jumble round the baby tortoise. Though -William had had the tortoise for three days now, -Jumble still barked at it with unabated fury, and -William watched the two with unabated interest. But -William’s thoughts were still occupied with the Twinkie-Luky -problem. The ethics of the case were difficult. -It belonged to Miss Blake, but Miss Cliff had paid for -it. Then suddenly the solution occurred to him—a -week each. They should have it a week each—that -would be quite easy to manage. His heart lightened. -He jumped down, put his tortoise into his pocket, -called “Hi, Jumble!”, took a stick, jumped (almost) -over the bed in the middle of the lawn, and went -whistling down the road followed by Jumble.</p> - -<p>The covered basket was very old and very shabby, -and it did not need much persuasion on William’s part -to induce Mrs. Brown to give it to him.</p> - -<p>“Jus’ to keep my things in an’ carry ’em about in, -mother,” he said plaintively, “so as I won’t be so -untidy. I shan’t be half as untidy if I have a basket -like that to keep my things in an’ carry ’em about -in.”</p> - -<p>“All right, dear,” said Mrs. Brown, much pleased.</p> - -<p>She was eternally optimistic about William.</p> - -<p>William spent an entire Saturday morning stalking -Luky in the neighbourhood of Miss Cliff’s garden (Miss -Cliff went into the town to do her shopping on Saturday -mornings). Finally he caught him, put him in the -basket, and secretly deposited Luky in Miss Amelia -Blake’s garden. Miss Blake was overjoyed.</p> - -<p>“He’s come back, Mrs. Brown! Mrs. Brown, he’s -come back. William, he’s come back—Luky’s come -back.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Cliff was distraught.</p> - -<p>“Little boy, you haven’t seen my Twinkie anywhere, -have you? My darling Twinkie, he’s gone. Twinkie! -Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie! Twinkie-ee-<i>ee!</i>”</p> - -<p>The next four Saturdays he successfully changed -Twinkie-Luky’s place of abode. On arrival at Miss -Cliff’s, Twinkie made immediately for his favourite -cushion and went to sleep. On arrival at Miss Amelia -Blake’s Luky did the same. The owners became -almost accustomed to the week’s mysterious absence.</p> - -<p>“He’s gone away again, Mrs. Brown,” Miss Blake -would call over the fence. “I only hope he’ll come -back as he did last time. You haven’t seen him, have -you? Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee-<i>ee!</i>”</p> - -<p>Then William became bored. At first the glorious -consciousness of duty done and the salving of his sense -of guilt had upheld him, but he began to feel that this -could not go on for ever. When all is said and done, -Saturday is Saturday—a golden holiday in a drab -procession of schooldays. William began to think that -if he had to spend every Saturday of his life stalking -Twinkie-Luky and conveying him secretly from one -end of the village to the other, he might just as well -not have been born——</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>He had put Twinkie-Luky in the basket and was -setting off with it down the road. It was very hot -and Twinkie-Luky was very heavy and William was -very cross. He had just come to the conclusion that -some other solution must be found to the Twinkie-Luky -problem when he heard the sound of the ’bus -that made its slow and noisy progress from the neighbouring -country town to the village in which William -lived.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> - -<p>A ride in the ’bus would save him a long, hot walk -with the heavy basket, and by some miraculous chance -he had the requisite penny in his pocket. And anyhow, -he was sick of the whole thing. He hailed the ’bus -by swinging the basket round and putting out his -tongue at the driver. The driver put his out in return, -and the ’bus stopped. William, holding the basket, -entered. The ’bus was very full, but there was one -empty seat. William had taken this seat before he -realised with horror that on one side of him sat Miss -Amelia Blake and on the other Miss Cliff.</p> - -<p>The ’bus had started again, and it was too late to -get out. He went rather pale, pretended not to see -them, stared in front of him with a set, stern expression -on his face, and clasped the basket containing Twinkie-Luky -tightly to his bosom. Miss Amelia Blake and -Miss Cliff did not “know” each other. But they both -knew William.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, little boy,” said Miss Cliff.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’,” muttered William, still staring straight -in front of him.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, William,” said Miss Blake.</p> - -<p>“Mornin’,” muttered William.</p> - -<p>“Have you been doing some shopping for your -mother?” said Miss Blake brightly.</p> - -<p>“Umph!” said William, his eyes still fixed desperately -on the opposite window, the basket still -clutched tightly to his breast.</p> - -<p>“You must call and see my pussy again soon, little -boy,” said Miss Cliff.</p> - -<p>A shadow passed over Miss Amelia Blake’s face.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t seen Luky, have you, William? He’s -been away all this week.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig29.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="captiona">“LUKY!” CRIED MISS BLAKE.</p> -<p class="captiona">“TWINKIE!” EXCLAIMED MISS CLIFF.</p> -<p class="captiona">“HE’S MINE!”</p> -<p class="captiona">“HE ISN’T!”</p> -</div> - - -<p>William felt a spasmodic movement in the basket at -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span>the sound of the name. He moistened his lips and -shook his head.</p> - -<p>Miss Amelia Blake was looking with interest at his -basket. It happened that she wanted a new shopping -basket, and had called at the basket-shop about one -that morning.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig30.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A BLACK HEAD AROSE FROM THE BASKET AND PURRED.</p> -</div> - -<p>“May I look at your basket, William?” she said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> -kindly. “I like these covered baskets for shopping. -The things can’t tumble out. On the other hand, of -course, you can’t get so many things in. Are the -fastenings firm?”</p> - -<p>Her hand was outstretched innocently towards the -fastenings. A cold perspiration broke out over -William. He put his hands desperately over the -fastenings.</p> - -<p>“I wun’t—I wun’t touch ’em,” he said hoarsely. -“It’s—it’s a bit full. I wun’t like all the things to -come tumblin’ out here.”</p> - -<p>Miss Amelia Blake smiled agreement and Miss Cliff -beamed on him from the other side. William was -wishing that the earth would open and swallow up Miss -Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff and Twinkie-Luky and -himself.</p> - -<p>At last the ’bus stopped at the cross-road and they -all got out. William’s relief was indescribable. <i>That</i> -was over. And it was the last time <i>he’d</i> ever change -their ole cats for ’em. He turned to go down the road, -but Miss Amelia Blake put her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>“I’ll hold it very carefully, William,” she pleaded. -“I won’t let anything tumble out, but I <i>do</i> want to -see if the fastenings of these baskets are secure.”</p> - -<p>Miss Cliff stood by smiling with interested curiosity. -William mutely abandoned himself to Fate. Miss -Amelia Blake opened one fastening, the flap turned -back, and a black-whiskered head arose and looked -around with a purr.</p> - -<p>“Luky!”</p> - -<p>“Twinkie!”</p> - -<p>“He’s mine.”</p> - -<p>“I bought him at Mr. Gorton’s.”</p> - -<p>“How <i>can</i> you say he’s yours?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s mine,” cried Miss Cliff.</p> - -<p>“He isn’t,” retorted Miss Blake.</p> - -<p>“He knows me—<i>Twinkie!</i>”</p> - -<p>“<i>Luky!</i>”</p> - -<p>Both made a grab at Twinkie-Luky, but Twinkie-Luky -escaped both and flew like a dart down the road -in the direction of Mr. Gorton’s. Like all real gentlemen, -Twinkie-Luky preferred death to a scene. William -was no coward, but even a braver man than William -would have fled. William’s fleeing figure was already -half-way down the road in which his home lay.</p> - -<p>At the cross-roads Miss Amelia Blake and Miss Cliff -clung to each other hysterically and sent forth shrill, -discordant cries after the fleeing Twinkie-Luky.</p> - -<p>“Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twinkie, Twink-ee-ee-ee-ee-<i>ee!</i>”</p> - -<p>“Luky, Luky, Luky, Luky, Lukee-ee-ee-ee-<i>ee!</i>”</p> - -<p>And William ran as if all the cats in the world were -at his heels.</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM THE SHOWMAN</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM and his friends, known to themselves -as the Outlaws, were in their usual state of -insolvency. All entreaties had failed to melt the heart -of Mr. Beezum, the keeper of the general stores in the -village, who sold marbles, along with such goods as -hams and shoes and vegetables.</p> - -<p>William and his friends wanted marbles—simply a -few dozen of ordinary glass marbles which could be -bought for a few pence. But Mr. Beezum refused to -overlook the small matter of the few pence. He -refused to give the Outlaws credit.</p> - -<p>“My terms to you, young gents, is cash down, an’ -well you know it,” he said firmly.</p> - -<p>“If you,” said William generously, “let us have -the marbles now we’ll give you a halfpenny extra -Saturday.”</p> - -<p>“You said that once before, young gent, if I -remember right,” said Mr. Beezum, adjusting his -capacious apron and turning up his shirt-sleeves -preparatory to sweeping out his shop.</p> - -<p>William was indignant at the suggestion.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “<i>well</i>—you talk ’s if that was <i>my</i> -fault—’s if I knew my people was going to decide -sudden not to give me any money that week <i>simply</i> -because one of their cucumber frames got broke by -my ball. An’ I brought back the things wot you’d let<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -me have. I brought the trumpet back <i>an</i> the -rock——”</p> - -<p>“Yes—the trumpet all broke an’ the rock all bit,” -said Mr. Beezum. “No—cash down is my terms, an’ -I sticks to ’em—if <i>you</i> please, young gents.”</p> - -<p>He began his sweeping operations with great energy, -and the Outlaws found themselves precipitated into -the street by the end of his long broom.</p> - -<p>“Mean,” commented William, rising again to the -perpendicular. “Jus’ <i>mean!</i> I’ve a good mind not to -buy ’em there at all.”</p> - -<p>“He’s the only shop that sells ’em,” remarked -Ginger.</p> - -<p>“An’ we’ve got no money to buy ’em anywhere, -anyway,” said Henry.</p> - -<p>“S’pose we couldn’t wait for ’em till Saturday?” -suggested Douglas tentatively.</p> - -<p>He was promptly crushed by the Outlaws.</p> - -<p>“<i>Wait!</i>” said Ginger. “<i>Wait!</i> Wot’s the use of -waitin’? We may be doing something else on Saturday. -We mayn’t <i>want</i> to play with marbles—all that long -time off.”</p> - -<p>“’F only you’d <i>save</i> your money,” said William -severely, “’stead of spendin’ it the day you get it we -shun’t be like this—no marbles, an’ swep’ out of his -shop an’ nothing to play at.”</p> - -<p>This was felt to be unfair.</p> - -<p>“Well, I like <i>that</i>—I like <i>that</i>,” said Ginger. “And -wot about <i>you</i>—wot about <i>you?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Well, if I was the only one, you could have lent -me money an’ we could get marbles with it—if <i>you’d</i> -not spent all your money we could be buyin’ marbles -now ’stead of standin’ swep’ out of his shop.”</p> - -<p>Ginger thought over this, aware that there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -usually some fallacy in William’s arguments if only -one could lay one’s hand on it.</p> - -<p>Henry turned away.</p> - -<p>“Oh, come along,” he said impatiently. “It’s no -good staring in at his ole butter an’ cheese. Let’s -think of something else to do.”</p> - -<p>“Anyway, it’s nasty cheese,” said Douglas comfortingly. -“My mother said it was—so p’raps it’s a -good thing we’ve been saved buyin’ his marbles.”</p> - -<p>“Something else to do?” said William. “We want -to play marbles, don’t we? Wot’s the good of thinkin’ -of other things when we want to play marbles?”</p> - -<p>“’S all very well to talk like that,” said Ginger with -sudden inspiration. “An’ we might jus’ as well say that -’f <i>you’d</i> not spent your money you could have lent us -some, an’ that’s just as much sense as you saying if -<i>we</i>——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do shut up talkin’ stuff no one can understand,” -said William, “let’s <i>get</i> some money.”</p> - -<p>“How?” said Ginger, who was nettled. “All right. -Get some, an’ we’ll watch you. You goin’ to <i>steal</i> some -or <i>make</i> some. ’F you’re clever enough to steal some -<i>or</i> make some I’ll be very glad to join with it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, well, if I stealed some or made some you just -<i>wouldn’t</i> join with it,” said William crushingly.</p> - -<p>“Let’s sell something,” said Henry.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got nothing anyone’d buy,” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Let’s sell Jumble.”</p> - -<p>“Jumble’s <i>mine</i>. You can jus’ sell your own dogs,” -said William, sternly.</p> - -<p>“We’ve not got any.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, sell ’em.”</p> - -<p>“That’s sense, isn’t it?” said Ginger. “Jus’ kindly -tell us how to sell dogs we’ve not got—— Jus’——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p> - -<p>But William was suddenly tired of this type of verbal -warfare.</p> - -<p>“Let’s do something—let’s have a show.”</p> - -<p>“Wot of?” said Ginger without enthusiasm. “We’ve -got nothing to show, an’ who’ll pay us money to look -at nothing. Jus’ tell us that.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll get something to show—<i>I know</i>,” he said -suddenly, “a c’lection of insecks. Anyone’d pay to -see an exhibition of a c’lection of insecks, wun’t they? -I don’t s’pose there are many c’lections of insecks, -anyway. It’d be <i>interestin’</i>. Everyone’s interested in -<i>insecks</i>.”</p> - -<p>For a minute the Outlaws wavered.</p> - -<p>“Who’d c’lect ’em?” said Henry, dubiously.</p> - -<p>“I would,” said William with an air of stern purpose.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The Collection of Insects was almost complete. The -show was to be held that afternoon.</p> - -<p>The audience had been ordered to attend and bring -their halfpennies. The audience had agreed, but had -reserved to itself the right not to contribute the halfpennies -if the exhibition was not considered worth it.</p> - -<p>“Well,” was William’s bitter comment on hearing -this, “I shouldn’t have thought there was so many -<i>mean</i> people in the world.”</p> - -<p>He had taken a great deal of trouble with his collection. -He had that very morning been driven out of -Miss Euphemia Barney’s garden by Miss Euphemia -herself, though he had only entered in pursuit of a -yellow butterfly that he felt was indispensable to the -collection.</p> - -<p>Miss Euphemia Barney was the local poetess and the -leader of the intellectual life of the village. Miss -Euphemia Barney was the President of the Society for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -the Encouragement of Higher Thought. The members -of the society discussed Higher Thought in all its -branches once every fortnight. At the end of the -discussion Miss Euphemia Barney would read her -poems.</p> - -<p>Euphemia Barney’s poems had never been published. -Miss Euphemia said that in these days of worldliness -and money-worship she would set an example of unworldliness -and scorn for money. “I think it best,” -she would say, “that I should not publish.”</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact she had the authority of several -publishers for the statement. She disliked William -more than anyone else she had ever known—and she -said that she knew just what sort of a woman Miss -Fairlow was as soon as she heard that Miss Fairlow -had “taken to” William.</p> - -<p>Miss Fairlow had only recently come to live at the -village. Miss Fairlow was a real, live, worldly, money-worshipping -author who published a book every year -and made a lot of money out of it. When she came to -live in the village Miss Euphemia Barney was prepared -to patronise her in spite of this fact, and even asked -her to join the Society for the Encouragement of -Higher Thought.</p> - -<p>But, to the surprise of Miss Euphemia, Miss Fairlow -refused.</p> - -<p>Miss Euphemia pitied her as she would have pitied -anyone who had refused the golden chance of belonging -to the Society for the Encouragement of Higher -Thought under her—Miss Euphemia Barney’s—presidency, -but, as she said to the Society, “her influence -would not have tended to the unworldliness and purity -that distinguishes us from so many other societies and -bodies—it is all for the best.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<p>To her most intimate friends she said that Miss -Fairlow had refused the offer of membership in order -to mask her complete ignorance of Higher Thought. -“Ignorant, my dear,” she said. “Ignorant—like all -these popular writers.”</p> - -<p>So the Society for the Encouragement of Higher -Thought pursued its pure and unworldly path, and -Miss Fairlow only laughed at it from a distance.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Chased ignominiously from Miss Euphemia’s garden, -William went along to Miss Fairlow’s. He could see -her over the hedge mowing the lawn.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, William,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Got any insects there?” said William.</p> - -<p>“Heaps. Come in and see.”</p> - -<p>William came in with a business-like air—his large -cardboard box under his arm—and began to hunt -among her garden plants.</p> - -<p>“Would you call a tortoise an insect?” he said -suddenly.</p> - -<p>“If I wanted to,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m going to,” said William firmly. “And -I’m going to call a white rat an insect.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why you shouldn’t—it might belong to -a special branch of the insect world, a very special -branch. You ought to give it a very special name.”</p> - -<p>The idea appealed to William.</p> - -<p>“All right. What name?”</p> - -<p>Miss Fairlow rested against the handle of her lawn -mower in an attitude of profound meditation.</p> - -<p>“We must consider that—something nice and -long.”</p> - -<p>“Omshafu,” said William suddenly, after a moment’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -thought. “It just came,” he went on modestly, “just -came into my head.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a beautiful word,” said Miss Fairlow. “I don’t -think you could have a better one—an insect of the -Omshafu branch.”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll call its name Omshafu, too,” said -William, picking a furry caterpillar off a leaf.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Miss Fairlow, “it seems a pity not to -use a word like that as much as you can now you’ve -thought of it.”</p> - -<p>William put a ladybird in on top of the caterpillar.</p> - -<p>“It’s going to be jolly fine,” he said optimistically.</p> - -<p>“What?” said Miss Fairlow.</p> - -<p>“Oh, jus’ a c’lection of insects I’m doing,” said -William.</p> - -<p>Later in the morning, William brought Omshafu -over to visit Miss Fairlow. It escaped, and Miss -Fairlow pursued it up her front stairs and down her -back ones, and finally captured it. Omshafu rewarded -her by biting her finger. William was apologetic.</p> - -<p>“I daresay it just didn’t like the look of me,” said -Miss Fairlow sadly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” William hastened to reassure her; “it’s -bit heaps of people this year—it bites people it likes. -I don’t see why it <i>shun’t</i> be an insect, anyway, do -you?”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William’s Collection of Insects was ready for the -afternoon’s show. The exhibits were arranged in small -cardboard boxes, covered mostly with paper, and these -were all packed into a large cardboard box.</p> - -<p>The only difficulty was that he could not think -where to conceal it from curious or disapproving eyes -till after lunch. The garden, he felt, was not safe—cats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -might upset it, and once upset in the garden the -insects would be able to return to their native haunts -too quickly. His mother would not allow him to keep -them indoors. She would find them and expel them -wherever he put them.</p> - -<p>Unless—William had a brilliant idea—he hid them -under the drawing-room sofa. The drawing-room sofa -had a cretonne cover with a frill that reached to the -floor, and he had used this place before as a temporary -receptacle for secret treasures. No one would look -under it, or think of his putting anything there. He -put the tortoise into a box with a lid, and tied Omshafu -up firmly with string in his box, and put them in the -large cardboard box with the insects. Then he put the -large cardboard box under the sofa and went into -lunch with a mind freed from anxiety.</p> - -<p>The exhibition was not to begin till three, so William -wandered out to find Jumble. He found him in the -ditch, threw sticks for him, brushed him severely with -an old boot brush that he kept in the outhouse for the -rare occasions of Jumble’s toilet, and finally tied round -his neck the old, raggy and almost colourless pink -ribbon that was his gala attire. Then he came to the -drawing-room for the exhibits. There he received his -first shock.</p> - -<p>On the drawing-room sofa sat Miss Euphemia -Barney, wearing her very highest thought expression. -She surveyed William from head to foot silently with -a look of slight disgust, then turned away her head -with a shudder. William sought his mother.</p> - -<p>“Wot’s she <i>doin’</i> in our house?” he demanded -sternly.</p> - -<p>“I’ve lent the drawing-room for a meeting of the -Higher Thought, darling,” said Mrs. Brown reverently,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> -“because she has the painters in her own drawing-room. -You mustn’t interrupt.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown was not a Higher Thinker, but she -cherished a deep respect for them.</p> - -<p>“But——” began William indignantly, then stopped. -He thought, upon deliberation, that it was better -not to betray his hiding-place.</p> - -<p>He went back to the drawing-room determined to -walk boldly up to the sofa and drag out the exhibits -from under the very skirts of Miss Euphemia Barney. -But two more Higher Thinkers were now established -upon the sofa, one on each side of the President, and -Higher Thinkers were pouring into the room. William’s -courage failed him. He sat down upon a chair by the -door scowling, his eyes fixed upon Miss Euphemia’s -skirts.</p> - -<p>The members looked at him with lofty disapproval. -The gathering was complete. The meeting was about -to begin. Miss Euphemia Barney was to speak on -the Commoner Complexes. But first she turned upon -William, who sat with his eyes fixed forlornly on the -hem of her skirts, a devastating glare.</p> - -<p>“Do you want anything, little boy?” she said.</p> - -<p>Before William had time to tell her what he wanted -the maid threw open the door and announced Miss -Fairlow. The Higher Thinkers gasped. Miss Fairlow -looked round as Daniel must have looked round at -his lions.</p> - -<p>“I came——” she said. “Oh, dear!”</p> - -<p>Miss Euphemia waved her to a seat. It occurred to -her that here was a heaven-sent opportunity of impressing -Miss Fairlow with a real respect for Higher -Thought. Miss Fairlow must learn how much higher -they were in thought than she could ever be. It would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> -be a great triumph to enlist Miss Fairlow as a humble -member and searcher after truth under her—Miss -Euphemia’s—leadership.</p> - -<p>“You came to see Mrs. Brown, of course,” she said -kindly, “and the maid showed you in here thinking you -were—ahem—one of us. Mrs. Brown has kindly lent -us her drawing-room for a meeting. Pray don’t -apologise—perhaps you would like to listen to us for -a short time. We were about to discuss the Commoner -Complexes. I will begin by reading a little poem. -I spent most of this morning putting the final touches -to it,” she ended proudly.</p> - -<p>“I spent most of this morning on the pursuit of -Omshafu,” said Miss Fairlow gravely.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s tense silence. Omshafu? -The Higher Thinkers sent glances of desperate appeal -to their president. Would she allow them to be -humiliated by this upstart?</p> - -<p>“Ah, Omshafu!” said Miss Euphemia slowly. “Of -course it—it <i>is</i> very interesting.”</p> - -<p>The Higher Thinkers gave a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>“I could hardly tear myself away this morning,” replied -Miss Fairlow pleasantly. “It was so engrossing.”</p> - -<p>Engrossing! Some sort of Eastern philosophy, of -course. Again desperate glances were turned upon the -embodiment of Higher Thought. Again she rose to -the occasion.</p> - -<p>“I felt just the same about it when I—er—when I,” -she risked the expression, “took it up.”</p> - -<p>She felt that this implied that she had known about -Omshafu long before Miss Fairlow, and this conveyed -a delicate snub.</p> - -<p>Miss Fairlow’s glance rested momentarily on her -bandaged finger.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig31.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“THERE’S OMSHAFU HIMSELF,” SAID MISS FAIRLOW<br /> -IN HER CLEAR VOICE. “I CAN SEE HIS DEAR LITTLE<br /> -PINK NOSE PEEPING OUT.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“It goes very deep,” she murmured.</p> - -<p>Miss Barney was gaining confidence.</p> - -<p>“There I disagree with you,” she said firmly. “I think -its appeal is entirely superficial.”</p> - -<p>William had brightened into attention at the first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -mention of Omshafu, but finding the conversation -beyond him, had relapsed into a gloomy stare. Now -his state became suddenly fixed; his mouth opened -with horror.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig32.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MISS EUPHEMIA JUMPED UP WITH A PIERCING SCREAM.<br /> -“SOMETHING STUNG ME!” SHE CRIED. “IT’S BEES<br /> -COMING FROM UNDER THE SOFA!”</p> -</div> - -<p>The exhibits were escaping from beneath the hem<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> -of Miss Euphemia’s gown. A cockroach was making -a slow and stately progress into the middle of the -room, several ants were laboriously climbing up Miss -Euphemia’s dress. So far no one else had noticed. -William gazed in frozen horror.</p> - -<p>“I hear that Omshafu has bitten most people this -year,” said Miss Fairlow demurely.</p> - -<p>Miss Euphemia pursued her lips disapprovingly. She -was growing reckless with success. “I think there’s -something dangerous in it,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You mean its teeth?” said Miss Fairlow brightly.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s tense silence. A horrible -suspicion occurred to Miss Euphemia that she was -being trifled with. The Higher Thinkers looked helplessly -first at her and then at Miss Fairlow. Then Miss -Euphemia rose from the sofa with a piercing scream.</p> - -<p>“Something’s stung me! It’s bees—bees coming -from under the sofa!”</p> - -<p>Simultaneously the Treasurer jumped upon a small -occasional table.</p> - -<p>“Black beetles!” she screamed. “Help!”</p> - -<p>Above the babel rose Miss Fairlow’s clear voice.</p> - -<p>“And there’s Omshafu himself. I can see his dear -little pink nose peeping out.”</p> - -<p>Babel ceased for one second while the Society for -the Encouragement of Higher Thought looked at -Omshafu. Then it arose with redoubled violence.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William departed with his exhibits. He had recaptured -most of them. Omshafu had been taken from -the ample silk sash of the Treasurer in a fold of which -he had taken refuge. William had left his mother -and Miss Fairlow pouring water on the hysterical -Treasurer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> - -<p>William was late as it was. Behind him trotted -Jumble, the chewed-up remains of his gala attire -hanging from his mouth.</p> - -<p>“William.”</p> - -<p>Miss Fairlow was just behind, carrying a cardboard -box.</p> - -<p>“Oh, William,” she said, “I was really bringing this -to you when they showed me into the wrong room and -I couldn’t resist having a game with them. I found -it this morning after you’d gone—in an old drawer -I was tidying, and I thought you might like it.”</p> - -<p>William opened it. It was a case of butterflies—butterflies -of every kind, all neatly labelled.</p> - -<p>“I think it used to belong to my brother,” said -Miss Fairlow carelessly. “Would you like it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>crumbs!</i>” gasped William. “<i>Thanks.</i>”</p> - -<p>“And I’ve had the loveliest time this afternoon that -I’ve had for ages,” said Miss Fairlow dreamily. “Thank -you so much.”</p> - -<p>William hastened to the old barn in which the -Exhibition was to be held. Ginger, Douglas and -Henry and the audience were already there.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re early, aren’t you?” said Douglas -sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“<i>D’you think</i>,” said William sternly, “that anyone -wot has had all the hard work I’ve had getting together -this c’lection could be here <i>earlier?</i>”</p> - -<p>The half-dozen little boys who formed the audience -grasped their halfpennies firmly and looked at William -suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“They won’t give up their halfpennies,” said Henry -in deep disgust.</p> - -<p>“No,” said the audience, “not till we’ve seen if it’s -<i>worth</i> a halfpenny.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> - -<p>William assumed his best showman air.</p> - -<p>“This, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, ignoring the -fact that his audience consisted entirely of males, “is -the only tortoise like this in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Seen a tortoise.” “Got a tortoise at home,” said -his audience unimpressed.</p> - -<p>“<i>Perhaps</i>,” said William crushingly. “But have -you ever seen a tortoise with white stripes like wot -this one has?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I could if I got an ole tin of paint and -striped our one.”</p> - -<p>William passed on to the next box.</p> - -<p>He took out Omshafu.</p> - -<p>“<i>This</i>,” he said, “is the only rat inseck of the -speeshees of Omshafu——”</p> - -<p>“If you think,” said the audience, “that we’re goin’ -to pay a halfpenny to see that ole rat wot we’ve seen -hundreds of times before, and wot’s bit us, too—well, -we’re <i>not</i>.”</p> - -<p>Despair began to settle down upon Ginger’s face.</p> - -<p>William passed on to the third box.</p> - -<p>“Here, ladies and gentlemen,” he said impressively, -“is thirty sep’rate <i>an’</i> distinct speeshees of insecks. -I only ask you to look at them. I——”</p> - -<p>“They’re jus’ the same sort of insecks as crawl about -our garden at home,” said the audience coldly.</p> - -<p>“But have you ever seen ’em c’lected <i>together</i> -before?” said William earnestly. “Have you ever -seen ’em <i>c’lected?</i> Think of the trouble an’ time wot -I took c’lecting ’em. Why, the time alone I took’s -worth more’n a halfpenny. I should <i>think</i> that’s worth -a halfpenny. I should think it’s worth more’n a halfpenny. -I should think——”</p> - -<p>“Well, we wun’t,” said the audience. “We’d as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> -soon see ’em crawling about a garden for nothin’ as -crawlin’ about a box for a halfpenny. So there.”</p> - -<p>Ginger, Douglas and Henry looked at William -gloomily.</p> - -<p>“They aren’t <i>worth</i> getting a c’lection for,” said -Ginger.</p> - -<p>“They deserve to have their halfpennies <i>took</i> off -’em!” said Douglas.</p> - -<p>But William slowly and majestically brought out his -fourth box and opened it, revealing rows of gorgeous -butterflies, then closed it quickly.</p> - -<p>The audience gasped.</p> - -<p>“When you’ve given in your halfpennies,” said -William firmly, “then you can see this wonderfu’ -an’ unique c’lection of twenty sep’rate <i>an’</i> distinct -speeshees of butterflies all c’lected together.”</p> - -<p>Eagerly the halfpennies were given to William. He -handed them to Douglas, triumphantly. “Go an’ buy -the marbles, quick,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “case -they want ’em back.”</p> - -<p>Then he turned to his audience, smoothed back his -hair, and reassumed his showman manner.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>In Mrs. Brown’s drawing-room the members of the -Society for the Encouragement of Higher Thought -were recovering from various stages of hysterics.</p> - -<p>“We shall have to dissolve the society,” said Miss -Euphemia Barney. “She’ll tell everyone. It’s a -wicked name for a rat, anyway—almost blasphemous—I’m -sure it comes in the Bible. How was one to know? -But people will never forget it.”</p> - -<p>“We might form ourselves again a little later under -a different name,” suggested the Secretary.</p> - -<p>“People will always remember,” said Miss Euphemia. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>“They’re so uncharitable. It’s a most unfortunate -occurrence. And,” setting her lips grimly, “as is the -case with most of the unfortunate occurrences in this -village, the direct cause is that terrible boy, William -Brown.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the direct cause of most of the -unfortunate occurrences in the village, with his friends -around him, his precious box of butterflies by his side, -and happiness in his heart, was just beginning the -hard-won, long-deferred game of marbles.</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM’S EXTRA DAY</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">“WHAT’S Leap Year?” asked William.</p> - -<p>“It’s a year that leaps,” said his elder -brother, Robert.</p> - -<p>“It’s Leap Year this year,” said William.</p> - -<p>“Who told you?” inquired Robert sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see much leapin’ about this year so -far,” said William, trying to rise to equal heights of -sarcasm.</p> - -<p>“Oh, go and play Leap Frog,” said Robert scathingly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe you <i>know</i>,” said William. “I don’t -for a minute b’lieve you know why it’s called Leap -Year. You don’t care, either. S’long as you can sit -talkin’ to Miss Flower, you don’t care about anything -else. You’ve not even got any curiosity ’bout Leap -Year nor anything else. I dunno what you find to -talk to her about. I bet she doesn’t know why it’s -Leap Year no more than you do. You don’t talk ’bout -anything sensible—you an’ Miss Flower. You——”</p> - -<p>Robert’s youthful countenance had flushed a dull -red. Miss Flower was the latest of Robert’s seemingly -endless and quickly changing succession of grand -passions.</p> - -<p>“You don’t even talk most of the time,” went on -William scornfully, “’cause I’ve watched you. You -sit lookin’—jus’ <i>lookin’</i>—at each other like wot you -used to with Miss Crane an’ Miss Blake an’ Miss—what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -was she called? An’ it does look soft, let me <i>tell</i> you, -to anyone watchin’ through the window.”</p> - -<p>Robert rose with murder in his eye.</p> - -<p>“Shut <i>up</i> and get <i>out!</i>” he roared.</p> - -<p>William shut up and got out. He sighed as he -wandered into the garden. It was like Robert to get -into a temper just because somebody asked him quite -politely what Leap Year was.</p> - -<p>Ethel, William’s grown-up sister, was in the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>“Ethel,” said William, “why’s it called Leap Year?”</p> - -<p>“Because of February 29th,” said Ethel.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, with an air of patience tried -beyond endurance, “if you think that’s any answer to -anyone askin’ you why’s it Leap Year—if you think -that’s an answer that <i>means</i> anythin’ to any ornery -person....”</p> - -<p>“You see, everything leaps on February 29th,” said -his sister callously; “you wait and see.”</p> - -<p>William looked at her in silent scorn for a few -moments, then gave vent to his feelings.</p> - -<p>“Anyone ’d think that anyone ’s old as you an’ -Robert would know a simple thing like that. Jus’ -think of you <i>an’</i> Robert <i>an’</i> Miss Flower not knowing -why it’s called Leap Year.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know Miss Flower doesn’t know?”</p> - -<p>“Well, wun’t she have told Robert if she knew? -She must have told Robert everythin’ she knows by -this time, talkin’ to him an’ talkin’ to him like she does. -F’ that matter I don’t s’pose Mr. Brooke knows. He’d -have told you ’f he did. He’s always——”</p> - -<p>Ethel groaned.</p> - -<p>“Will you stop talking and go away if I give you -a chocolate?” she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> - -<p>William forgot his grievance.</p> - -<p>“Three,” he stipulated in a quick business-like voice. -“Gimme three ’n I’ll go <i>right</i> away.”</p> - -<p>She gave him three so readily that he regretted not -having asked for six.</p> - -<p>He put two in his mouth, pocketed the third, and -went into the morning-room.</p> - -<p>His father was there reading a newspaper.</p> - -<p>“Father,” said William, “why’s it called Leap -Year?”</p> - -<p>“How many times am I to tell you,” said his father, -“to shut the door when you come into a room? There’s -an icy blast piercing down my neck now. Do you -want to murder me?”</p> - -<p>“No, father,” said William kindly. He shut the -door.</p> - -<p>“Father, why’s it called Leap Year?”</p> - -<p>“Ask your mother,” said his father, without looking -up from his paper.</p> - -<p>“She mightn’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, ask someone else then. Ask anyone in -heaven or earth. <span class="smcap">But don’t ask me anything!</span> And -shut the door when you go out.”</p> - -<p>William, though as a rule slow to take a hint, went -out of the room and shut the door.</p> - -<p>“<i>He</i> doesn’t know,” he remarked to the hat-rack -in the hall.</p> - -<p>He found his mother in the dining-room. She was -engaged in her usual occupation of darning socks.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” said William, “why’s it called Leap -Year?”</p> - -<p>“I simply can’t <i>think</i>, William,” said Mrs. Brown -feelingly, “how do you get such <i>dreadful</i> holes in -your heels?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig33.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>“It’s that hard road on -the way to school, I ’spect,” -said William. “I’ve gotter -walk to school. I ’spect -that’s it. I ’spect ’f I didn’t -go to school an’ kept to the -fields an’ woods I wun’t -gettem like wot I do. But -you an’ father keep sayin’ -I’ve gotter go to school. I -wun’t mind not goin’—jus’ -to save you trouble. I wun’t -mind growin’ up ign’rant -like wot you say I would if -I didn’t go to school—jus’ to save you trouble—I——”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown hastily interrupted him.</p> - -<p>“What did you want to know, William?”</p> - -<p>William returned to his quest.</p> - -<p>“Why’s it called Leap Year?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Brown, “it’s because of February -29th. It’s an extra day.”</p> - -<p>William thought over this for some time in silence.</p> - -<p>“D’you mean,” he said at last, “that it’s an extra -day that doesn’t count in the ornery year?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s it,” said Mrs. Brown vaguely. “William -dear, I wish you wouldn’t always stand <i>just</i> in my -light.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>It was February 29th. William was unusually silent -during breakfast. In the relief caused by his silence -his air of excitement was unnoticed.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, William went upstairs. He took -two small paper parcels from a drawer and put them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -into his overcoat pocket. One contained several small -cakes surreptitiously abstracted from the larder, the -other contained William’s “disguise.” William’s “disguise” -was a false beard which had formed part of -Robert’s hired costume for the Christmas theatricals. -Robert never knew what had happened to the beard. -He had been charged for it as “missing” by the -theatrical costumier.</p> - -<p>William had felt that a “disguise” was a necessity -to him. All the heroes of the romances he read found -it necessary in the crises of their adventurous lives to -assume disguises. William felt that you never knew -when a crisis was coming, and that any potential hero -of adventure—such as he knew himself to be—should -never allow himself to be without a “disguise.” So far -he had not had need to assume it. But he had hopes -for to-day. It was an extra day. Surely you could -do just what you liked on an extra day. To-day was -to be a day of adventure.</p> - -<p>He went downstairs and put on his cap in the hall.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be rather early for school,” said Mrs. Brown.</p> - -<p>William’s unsmiling countenance assumed a look -of virtue.</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig34.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>“I don’t mind bein’ -early for school,” he said.</p> - -<p>Slowly and decorously he -went down the drive and -disappeared from sight.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown went back -to the dining-room where -her husband was still -reading the paper.</p> - -<p>“William’s so good to-day,” -she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - -<p>Her husband groaned.</p> - -<p>“Eight-thirty in the morning,” he said, “and she -says he’s good to-day! My dear, he’s not had time -to look round yet!”</p> - -<p>William walked down the road with a look of set -purpose on his face. Near the school he met Bertram -Roke. Bertram Roke was the good boy of the school.</p> - -<p>“You’re not goin’ to school to-day, are you?” said -William.</p> - -<p>“Course,” said Bertram virtuously. “Aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Me?” said William. “Don’t you know what day -it is? Don’t you know it’s an extra day wot doesn’t -count in the ornery year. Catch <i>me</i> goin’ to school on -an extra day what doesn’t count in the ornery year.”</p> - -<p>“What are you goin’ to do, then?” said Bertram, -taken aback.</p> - -<p>“I’m goin’ to have adventures.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll—you’ll miss geography,” said Bertram.</p> - -<p>“Geography!” said the hero of adventures scornfully.</p> - -<p>Leaving Bertram gaping over the school wall, his -Latin grammar under one arm and his geography book -under the other, William walked up the hill and into -the wood in search of adventures.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>It was most certainly a gipsy encampment. There -was a pot boiling on a camp fire and a crowd of ragged -children playing around. Three caravans stood on the -broad cart track that led through the wood.</p> - -<p>William watched the children wistfully from a -distance. More than anything on earth at that moment -William longed to be a gipsy. He approached the -children. All of them fled behind the caravans except -one—a very dirty boy in a ragged green jersey and -ragged knickers and bare legs. He squared his fists<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -and knocked William down. William jumped up and -knocked the boy down. The boy knocked William -down again, but overbalanced with the effort. They -sat on the ground and looked at each other.</p> - -<p>“Wot’s yer nyme?” said the boy.</p> - -<p>“William. Wot’s yours?”</p> - -<p>“Helbert. Wot yer doin’ ’ere?”</p> - -<p>“Lookin’ for adventures,” said William. “It’s an -extra day, you know. I want to-day to be quite -different from an ornery day. I want some adventures; -I’d like to be a gipsy, too,” he ended, wistfully.</p> - -<p>Helbert merely stared at him.</p> - -<p>“Would they take me?” went on William, nodding -his head in the direction of the caravans. “I’d soon -learn to be a gipsy. I’d do all they told me. I’ve -always wanted to be a gipsy—next to a Red Indian -and a pirate, and there don’t seem to be any Red -Indians or pirates in this country.”</p> - -<p>Helbert once more merely stared at him. William’s -hopes sank.</p> - -<p>“I’ve not got any gipsy clothes,” he said, “but -p’raps they’d give me some.”</p> - -<p>Enviously William looked at Helbert’s ragged jersey -and knickers and bare feet. Enviously Helbert looked -at William’s suit. Suddenly Helbert’s heavy face -lightened. He pointed to William’s suit.</p> - -<p>“Swop,” he said, succinctly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you really mind?” said William, humbly and -gratefully.</p> - -<p>The exchange was effected behind a bush. William -carefully transferred his packet of provisions and his -disguise from his pocket to the pocket of Helbert’s -ragged knickers. Then, while Helbert was still donning -waistcoat and coat, William swaggered into the open<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -space round the fire. His heart was full to bursting. -He was a gipsy of the gipsies.</p> - -<p>“’Ello,” he called, in swaggering friendly greeting -to the gipsy children. But his friendliness was not -returned.</p> - -<p>“’E’s stole Helbert’s clothes.”</p> - -<p>“You wait till my Dad ketches yer. ’E’ll wallop -yer.”</p> - -<p>“Ma! ’E’s got our Helbert’s jersey on.”</p> - -<p>A woman appeared suddenly at the door of the -caravan. She was larger and dirtier and fiercer-looking -than anyone William had ever seen before. She -advanced upon William, and William, forgetting his -dignity as a hero of adventures, fled through the -wood in terror, till he could flee no more.</p> - -<p>Then he stopped, and discovering that the fat woman -was not pursuing him, sat down and leant against a -tree to rest. He took out his crumpled packet of -provisions, ate one cake and put the rest back again -into his pocket. He felt that his extra day had -opened propitiously. He was a gipsy. William never -felt happier than when he had completely shed his -own identity.</p> - -<p>He did not regret leaving the members of the gipsy -encampment. He had not really liked the look of any -of them. There had been something unfriendly even -about Helbert. He preferred to be a gipsy on his -own. He ran and leapt. He turned cart wheels. -He climbed trees. He was riotously happy. He was -a gipsy.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he saw a little old man stretched out at -full length beneath a tree. The little old man was -watching something in the grass through a magnifying -glass. On one side of him lay a notebook, on the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -a large japanned tin case. William, full of curiosity, -crept cautiously towards him through the grass on the -other side of the tree. He peered round the tree-trunk, -and the little old man looking up suddenly -found William’s face within a few inches of his own.</p> - -<p>“Sh!” said the little old man. “A rare specimen! -Ah! Gone! My movement, I am afraid. Never -mind. I had it under observation for quite fifteen -minutes. And I have a specimen of it.”</p> - -<p>He began to write in his notebook. Then he looked -up again at William.</p> - -<p>“Who are you, boy?” he said suddenly.</p> - -<p>“I’m a gipsy,” said William proudly.</p> - -<p>“What’s your name?”</p> - -<p>“Helbert,” said William without hesitation.</p> - -<p>“Well, Albert,” said the little old gentleman, “would -you like to earn sixpence by carrying this case to my -house? It’s just at the end of the wood.”</p> - -<p>Without a word William took the case and set off -beside the little old gentleman. The little old gentleman -carried the notebook, and William carried the -japanned tin case.</p> - -<p>“An interesting life, a gipsy’s, I should think,” said -the old gentleman.</p> - -<p>Memories of stories he had read about gipsies -returned to William.</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t born a gipsy,” he said. “I was stole by -the gipsies when I was a baby.”</p> - -<p>The little old gentleman turned to peer at William -over his spectacles.</p> - -<p>“Really?” he said. “That’s interesting—most interesting. -What are your earliest recollections previous -to being stolen?”</p> - -<p>William was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -William no longer. He was not even Helbert. He was -Evelyn de Vere, the hero of “Stolen by Gipsies,” which -he had read a few months ago.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I remember a kinder palace an’ a garden with -stachues an’ peacocks an’—er—waterfalls an’—er—flowers -an’ things, an’ a black man what came in the -night an’ took me off, an’ I’ve gotter birthmark somewhere -what’ll identify me,” he ended, with modest -pride.</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” squeaked the little old man, greatly impressed. -“How interesting! How <i>very</i> interesting!”</p> - -<p>They had reached the little old gentleman’s house. -A very prim old lady opened the door.</p> - -<p>“You’re late, Augustus,” she said sternly.</p> - -<p>“A most interesting specimen,” murmured Augustus -deprecatingly. “I found it as I was on the point -of returning home and forgot the hour.”</p> - -<p>The prim lady was looking up and down William.</p> - -<p>“Who is this boy?” she said, still more sternly.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said the old gentleman, as if glad to change -the subject, “he is a little gipsy.”</p> - -<p>“Nasty creatures!” put in the lady fiercely.</p> - -<p>“But he has told me his story,” said Augustus -eagerly, peering at William again over the top of his -spectacles. “Interesting—most interesting. If you’ll -just come into my study with me a moment.”</p> - -<p>The lady pointed to a chair in the hall.</p> - -<p>“Sit there, boy,” she said to William.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes she and the little old gentleman -came into the hall again. “Where’s this birthmark -you speak of?” said the old lady severely.</p> - -<p>Without a moment’s hesitation, William pointed to -a small black mark on his wrist.</p> - -<p>The lady looked at it suspiciously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> - -<p>“My brother will go back with you to the encampment -to verify your strange story,” she said. “If it -is untrue I hope they will be very severe with you. -Don’t be long, Augustus.”</p> - -<p>“No, Sophia,” said Augustus meekly, setting off -with William.</p> - -<p>William was rather silent. It was strange how -adventures seemed to have a way of getting beyond -control.</p> - -<p>“I don’ remember the peacocks very plain,” he -said at last.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” said the old man, taking out his magnifying -glass. He crept up to a tree-trunk. He gazed at it -in a rapt silence.</p> - -<p>“Most interesting,” he said. “I much regret having -left my notebook at home.”</p> - -<p>“An’, of course,” said William, “anyone might dream -about stachues.”</p> - -<p>They found that the encampment had gone. There -was no mistake about it. There were the smouldering -remains of the fire and the marks of the wheels of the -caravan. But the encampment had disappeared. -They went to the end of the wood, but there were no -signs of it along any of the three roads that met there. -The little old gentleman was distraught.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” he said. “How unfortunate! -Do you know where they were going next?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said William, truthfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, oh, dear! What shall we do?”</p> - -<p>“Let’s go back to your house,” said William -trustingly. “I should think it’s about dinner time.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Sophia grimly, “you’ve kidnapped a -child from a gipsy encampment, and I hope you’re -prepared to take the consequences.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, dear,” said the old gentleman, almost in tears. -“What a day! And it opened so propitiously. I -watched a perfect example of a scavenger beetle at -work for nearly half an hour and then—this.”</p> - -<p>William was watching them with a perfectly expressionless -face.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what -happens to-day. It’s extra.”</p> - -<p>“We must keep the boy,” said Augustus, “till we -have made inquiries.”</p> - -<p>“Then he must be washed,” said Sophia firmly, -“and those dreadful clothes must be fumigated.”</p> - -<p>William submitted to the humiliating process of -being washed by a buxom servant. He noticed, with -misgiving, that his birthmark disappeared in the -process. He resisted all attempts on the part of the -maid-servant at intimate conversation.</p> - -<p>“A deaf moot, that’s wot I calls ’im,” said the maid -indignantly, “an’ me wastin’ my kindness on ’im an’ -takin’ a hinterest in ’im an’ ’im treatin’ me with -scornful silence like. A deaf moot ’e is.”</p> - -<p>The lady called Sophia had entered, carrying a short, -white, beflounced garment.</p> - -<p>“This is the only thing I can find about your size, -boy,” she said. “It’s a fancy dress I had made for a -niece of mine about your size. Although it has a -flimsy appearance, the thing is made on a warm wool -lining. My niece was subject to bronchitis. You will -not find it cold. You can just wear it while you have -dinner, while your clothes are being—er—heated.”</p> - -<p>A delicious smell was emanating from a saucepan -on the fire. William decided to endure anything rather -than risk being ejected before that smell materialised.</p> - -<p>He meekly submitted to Helbert’s garments being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -taken from him. He meekly submitted to being -dressed in the white, beflounced costume. He remembered -to take his two paper bags from the pockets -of Helbert’s knickers and tried, unsuccessfully, to find -pockets in the costume he was wearing, and finally -sat on them. Then, tastefully arrayed as a Fairy -Queen, he sat down at the kitchen table to a large -plateful of stew. It was delicious stew. William felt -amply rewarded for all the indignities to which he was -submitting. The servant sat opposite watching him.</p> - -<p>“Is all gipsies deaf moots?” she said sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“I’m not an ornery gipsy,” said William, without -raising his eyes from his plate, or ceasing his appreciative -and hearty consumption of Irish stew. “I was -stole by the gipsies, I was. I’ve gotter birthmark -somewhere where you can’t see it what’ll identify me.”</p> - -<p>“Lor!” said the maid.</p> - -<p>“Yes, an’ I rec’lect peacocks an’ stachues—an’—folks -walkin’ about in crowns.”</p> - -<p>“Crikey!” said the maid, filling his plate again with -stew.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said William, attacking it with undiminished -gusto, “an’ the suit I was wearin’ when they stole -me is all embroidered with crowns an’ peacocks an’—an’——”</p> - -<p>“An’ stachues, I suppose,” said the servant.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said William absently.</p> - -<p>“An’ you was wearin’ silver shoes an’ stockings, -I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Gold,” corrected William, scraping his plate clean -of the last morsel.</p> - -<p>“Lor!” said the maid, setting a large plate of -pudding before him. “Now, while you’re a-heatin’ of -that I’ll jus’ pop round to a friend next door an’ bring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> -of ’er in. I shun’t like ’er to miss ’earin’ you talk—all -dressed up, like what you are, too. It’s a fair treat, -it is.”</p> - -<p>She went, closing the door cautiously behind her.</p> - -<p>William disposed of the pudding and considered the -situation. He felt that this part of the adventure had -gone quite far enough. He did not wish to wait till -the maid returned. He did not wish to wait till -Augustus or Sophia had “made inquiries.”</p> - -<p>He opened the kitchen door. The hall was empty. -Sophia and Augustus were upstairs enjoying their after-dinner -nap. William tiptoed into the hall and put on -one of the coats.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, Augustus was a very small man, and -the coat was not much too large for William. William -gave a sigh of relief as he realised that his humiliating -costume was completely hidden. Next he put on one -of Augustus’s hats.</p> - -<p>There was no doubt at all that it was slightly too -big. Then he returned to the kitchen, took his two -precious paper packets from the chair, put them into -Augustus’s coat pockets and crept to the front door. -It opened noiselessly. William tiptoed silently and -ungracefully down the path to the road.</p> - -<p>All was still. The road was empty.</p> - -<p>It seemed a suitable moment to assume the disguise. -With all the joy and pride of the artist, William -donned his precious false beard. Then he began to -walk jauntily up the road.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Suddenly he noticed a figure in front of him. It -was the figure of a very, very old man, toiling laboriously -up the hill, bending over a stick. William, as an -artist, never scorned to learn. He found a stick in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -the ditch and began to creep up the hill with little -faltering steps, bending over his stick.</p> - -<p>He was thoroughly happy again.</p> - -<p>He was not William.</p> - -<p>He was not even Helbert.</p> - -<p>He was a very old man, with a beard, walking up -a hill.</p> - -<p>The old man in front of him turned into the workhouse -gates, which were at the top of the hill. William -followed. The old man sat on a bench in a courtyard. -William sat beside him. The old man was very short-sighted.</p> - -<p>“’Ello, Thomas,” he said.</p> - -<p>William gave a non-committal grunt. He took out -his battered paper bag and handed a few fragments -of crumbled cake to the old man. The old man ate -them. William, thrilling with joy and pride, gave him -some more. He ate them. A man in uniform came -out of the door of the workhouse.</p> - -<p>“Arternoon, George,” he said to the old man.</p> - -<p>He looked closely at William as he passed.</p> - -<p>Then he came back and looked still more closely at -William. Then he said: “’Ere!” and whipped off -William’s hat. Then he said: “Well, I’m——!” and -whipped off William’s beard. Then he said: “I’ll -be——” and whipped off William’s coat.</p> - -<p>William stood revealed as the Fairy Queen in the -middle of the workhouse courtyard.</p> - -<p>The short-sighted old man began to chuckle in a -high, quavering voice. “It’s a lady out of a circus,” -he said. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! It’s a lady out of -a circus!”</p> - -<p>The man in uniform staggered back with one hand -to his head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig35.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM STOOD REVEALED AS THE FAIRY QUEEN IN THE<br /> -MIDDLE OF THE COURTYARD. THE SHORT-SIGHTED OLD<br /> -MAN BEGAN TO CHUCKLE. “IT’S A LADY OUT OF<br /> -A CIRCUS! OH, DEAR! OH, DEAR!”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Gor’ blimey!” he ejaculated. “’Ave I gone mad, -or am I a-dreamin’ it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a lady out of a circus. He! He!” cackled the -old man.</p> - -<p>But William had gathered up his scattered possessions -indignantly and fled, struggling into the coat as he -did so. He ran along the road that skirted the workhouse, -then, finding that he was not pursued, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -that the road was empty, -adjusted his hat and beard -and buttoned his coat.</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig36.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE MAN IN UNIFORM<br /> -STAGGERED BACK WITH<br /> -ONE HAND TO HIS HEAD.</p> -</div> - -<p>At a bend in the road -there was a wayside seat -already partially occupied -by a young couple. -William, feeling slightly -shaken by the events of -the last hour, sat down -beside them. He sat there -for some minutes, listening -idly to their conversation, -before he realised with -horror who they were. He -decided to get up and -unostentatiously shuffle -away. They did not seem -to have noticed him so -far. But Miss Flower was -demanding a bunch of the -catkin palm that grew a -little farther down the road. -Robert, William’s elder -brother, with the air of a knight setting off upon -a dangerous quest for his ladye, went to get it for her. -Miss Flower turned to William.</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon,” she said.</p> - -<p>William shaded the side of his face from her with his -hand and uttered a sound, which was suggestive of -violent pain or grief, but whose real and only object -was to disguise his natural voice.</p> - -<p>Miss Flower moved nearer to him on the seat.</p> - -<p>“Are you in trouble?” she said sweetly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> - -<p>William, at a loss, repeated the sound.</p> - -<p>She tried to peer into his face.</p> - -<p>“Could—could I help at all?” she said, in a voice whose -womanly sympathy was entirely wasted on William.</p> - -<p>William covered his face with both his hands and -emitted a bellow of rage and desperation.</p> - -<p>Robert was returning with the catkins. Miss Flower -went to meet him.</p> - -<p>“Robert,” she said, “have you any money? I’ve -left my purse at home. There’s a poor old man here -in dreadful trouble.”</p> - -<p>Robert’s sole worldly possessions at that moment -were two and sevenpence halfpenny. He gave her -half a crown. She handed it to William, and William, -keeping his face still covered with one hand pocketed -the half-crown with the other.</p> - -<p>“Do speak to him,” whispered Miss Flower. “See -if you can help him at all. He may be ill.”</p> - -<p>Robert sat down next to William and cleared his -throat nervously.</p> - -<p>“Now, my man——” he began, then stopped -abruptly, staring at all that could be seen of William’s -face.</p> - -<p>He tore off the hat and beard.</p> - -<p>“You little wretch! And whose coat are you -wearing, you little idiot?”</p> - -<p>He tore open the coat. The sight it revealed was -too much for him. He sank back upon the seat with -a groan.</p> - -<p>Miss Flower sat on the grass by the roadside and -laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Oh, William!” she said. “You are priceless. I’d -just love to walk through the village with you like -that. Will you come with us, Robert?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> - -<p>“<i>No</i>,” said Robert wildly. “At every crisis of my life -that boy turns up and always in something ridiculous. -He’s—he’s more like a nightmare than a boy.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William faced a family council consisting of his -father and mother, and Robert and Ethel.</p> - -<p>William was still attired as a Fairy Queen.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, in a tone of disgust. “You -said to-day was extra. I thought it didn’t count. I -thought nothin’ anyone did to-day counted. I thought -it was an extra day. An’ there’s Robert takin’ a -half-crown off me an’ no one seems to mind that. -An’ Robert tellin’ Miss Flower, on the seat, how he’d -wanted to live a better life since he met her.”</p> - -<p>Robert’s face went scarlet.</p> - -<p>“An’ then takin’ a half-crown off me,” William -continued. “I don’ call that livin’ a better life. <i>She</i> -gave it me an’ <i>he</i> took it off me. I don’ call that -being noble like what he said she made him want -to be. I don’——”</p> - -<p>“Shut <i>up</i>,” said Robert desperately. “Shut up and -I’ll give you the wretched thing back.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said William, receiving the half-crown.</p> - -<p>“What I want to know, William,” said Mrs. Brown -almost tearfully, “is—where are your clothes?”</p> - -<p>William looked down at his airy costume.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she took ’em off me an’ put this thing on -me. She said she wanted to heat ’em up. I dunno -why. She took off my green jersey an’ my——”</p> - -<p>“You weren’t wearing a jersey,” screamed Mrs. -Brown.</p> - -<p>William’s jaw dropped.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>those</i> clothes! Crumbs! I’d forgotten about -those clothes. I—I suppose Helbert’s still gottem.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Brown covered his eyes with his hand.</p> - -<p>“Take him away,” he groaned. “Take him away! -I can’t bear the sight of him like that any longer!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown took him away.</p> - -<p>She returned about half an hour later. William, -tired by the events of his extra day, had fallen at -once into an undeservedly peaceful slumber.</p> - -<p>“It’ll take us weeks probably to put whatever he’s -done to-day right,” she said hysterically to her husband. -“I do hope you’ll be severe with him.”</p> - -<p>But Mr. Brown, freed from the horrible spectacle of -William robed as a Fairy Queen, had given himself up -to undisturbed and peaceful enjoyment of the fire -and his armchair and evening paper.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow,” he promised pacifically. “Not to-day. -You forget. To-day doesn’t count.”</p> - -<p>“Eavesdropping,” burst out Robert suddenly. -“Simply eavesdropping. I don’t know how he can -reconcile that with his conscience.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s all be thankful,” said Mr. Brown, “that -February 29th only happens every four years.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but William doesn’t,” said Robert gloomily. -“William happens all the year round.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM ENTERS POLITICS</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN William at the Charity Fair was asked to -join a sixpenny raffle for a picture, and shown -the prize—a dingy oil painting in an oval gilt frame, -his expression registered outrage and disgust.</p> - -<p>It was only when his friend Ginger whispered excitedly: -“I say, William, las’ week my aunt read in -the paper about someone what scraped off an ole -picture like that an’ found a real valuable ole master -paintin’ underneath an’ sold it for more’n a thousand -pounds,” that he hesitated. An inscrutable expression -came upon his freckled face as he stared at the vague -head and shoulders of a lightly clad female against a -background of vague trees and elaborate columns.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said, suddenly holding out the sixpence -that represented his sole worldly assets, and -receiving Ticket number 33.</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget it was me what suggested it,” said -Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Yes, an’ don’t forget it was my sixpence,” said -William sternly.</p> - -<p>William was not usually lucky, but on this occasion -the number 33 was drawn, and William, purple with -embarrassment, bore off his gloomy-looking trophy. -Accompanied by Ginger he took it to the old barn.</p> - -<p>They scraped off the head and shoulders of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -mournful and inadequately clothed female, and they -scraped off the gloomy trees, and they scraped off the -elaborate columns. To their surprise and indignation -no priceless old master stood revealed. Being thorough -in all they did, they finally scraped away the entire -canvas and the back.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, raising himself sternly from -the task when nothing scrapable seemed to remain, -“an’ will you kin’ly tell me where this valu’ble ole -master is?”</p> - -<p>“Who said definite there <i>was</i> a valu’ble ole master?” -said Ginger in explanation. “’F you kin’ly remember -right p’raps you’ll kin’ly remember that I said that an -aunt of mine <i>said</i> that she <i>saw</i> in the paper that -<i>someone’d</i> scraped away an ole picture an’ found a -valu’ble ole master. I never said——”</p> - -<p>William was arranging the empty oval frame round -his neck.</p> - -<p>“P’raps now,” he interrupted ironically, “you’d like -to start scratchin’ away the frame, case you find a -valu’ble ole master frame underneath.”</p> - -<p>“Will it hoop?” said Ginger with interest, dropping -hostilities for the moment.</p> - -<p>They tried to “hoop” it, but found that it was too -oval. William tried to wear it as a shield but it -would not fit his arm. They tried to make a harp -of it by nailing strands of wire across it, but gave up -the attempt when William had cut his finger and -Ginger had hammered his thumb three times.</p> - -<p>William carried it about with him, his disappointment -slightly assuaged by the pride of possession, but -its size and shape were hampering to a boy of William’s -active habits, so in the end he carefully hid it behind -the door of the old barn which he and his friends<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> -generally made their headquarters, and then completely -forgot it.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The village was agog with the excitement of the -election. The village did not have a Member of -Parliament all to itself—it joined with the neighbouring -country town—but one of the two candidates, Mr. -Cheytor, the Conservative, lived in the village, so -feeling ran high.</p> - -<p>William’s father took no interest in politics, but -William’s uncle did.</p> - -<p>William’s uncle supported the Liberal candidate, Mr. -Morrisse. He threw himself whole-heartedly into the -cause. He distributed bills, he harangued complete -strangers, he addressed imaginary audiences as he -walked along the road, he frequently brought one hand -down heavily upon the other with the mystic words: -“Gentlemen, in the sacred cause of Liberalism——”</p> - -<p>William was tremendously interested in him. He -listened enraptured to his monologues, quite unabashed -by his uncle’s irritable refusals to explain them to him. -Politically the uncle took no interest in William. -William had no vote.</p> - -<p>William’s uncle was busily preparing to hold a -meeting of canvassers for the cause of the great Mr. -Morrisse in his dining-room. Mr. Morrisse, a tall, thin -gentleman, for some obscure reason very proud of his -name, who went through life saying plaintively, -“double S E, please,” was not going to be there. -William’s uncle was going to tell the canvassers the -main features of the programme with which to dazzle -the electors of the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>“I s’pose,” said William carelessly, “you don’t mind -me comin’?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> - -<p>“You suppose wrong then,” said William’s uncle. -“I most emphatically mind your coming.”</p> - -<p>“But why?” said William earnestly. “I’m <i>int’rested</i>. -I’d like to go canvassing too. I know a lot ’bout the -rackshunaries—you know, the ole Conservies—I’d like -to go callin’ ’em names, too. I’d like——”</p> - -<p>“You may <i>not</i> attend the Liberal canvassers’ -meeting, William,” said William’s uncle firmly.</p> - -<p>From that moment William’s sole aim in life was to -attend the Liberal canvassers’ meeting. He and -Ginger discussed ways and means. They made an -honest and determined effort to impart to William an -adult appearance, making a frown with burnt cork, -and adding whiskers of matting which adhered to his -cheeks by means of glue. Optimists though they were, -they were both agreed that the chances of William’s -admittance, thus disguised, into the meeting of the -Liberal canvassers was but a faint one.</p> - -<p>So William evolved another plan.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>The dining-room in which William’s uncle was to -hold his meeting was an old-fashioned room. A -hatch, never used, opened from it on to an old stone -passage.</p> - -<p>The meeting began.</p> - -<p>William’s uncle arrived and took his seat at the -head of the table with his back to the hatch. William’s -uncle was rather short-sighted and rather deaf. The -other Liberal canvassers filed in and took their places -round the table.</p> - -<p>William’s uncle bent over his papers. The other -Liberal canvassers were gazing with widening eyes at -the wall behind William’s uncle. The hatch slowly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -opened. A dirty oval gilt frame appeared, and was by -no means soundlessly attached to the top of the open -hatch. Through the aperture of the frame appeared -a snub-nosed, freckled, rough-haired boy with a dirty -face and a forbidding expression.</p> - -<p>William didn’t read sensational fiction for nothing. -In “The Sign of Death,” which he had finished by the -light of a candle at 11.30 the previous evening, Rupert -the Sinister, the international spy, had watched a -meeting of masked secret service agents by the means -of concealing himself in a hidden chamber in the wall, -cutting out the eye of a portrait and applying his own -eye to the hole. William had determined to make the -best of slightly less favourable circumstances.</p> - -<p>There was no hidden chamber, but there was a -hatch; there was no portrait, but there was the useless -frame for which William had bartered his precious -sixpence. He still felt bitter at the thought.</p> - -<p>William felt, not unreasonably, that the sudden -appearance in the dining-room of a new and mysterious -portrait of a boy might cause his uncle to make closer -investigations, so he waited till his uncle had taken -his seat before he hung himself.</p> - -<p>Ever optimistic, he thought that the other Liberal -canvassers would be too busy arranging their places to -notice his gradual and unobtrusive appearance in his -frame. With vivid memories of the illustration in -“The Sign of Death” he was firmly convinced that to -the casual observer he looked like a portrait of a boy -hanging on the wall.</p> - -<p>In this he was entirely deceived. He looked merely -what he was—a snub-nosed, freckled, rough-haired boy -hanging up an old empty frame in the hatch and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>then crouching on the hatch and glaring morosely -through the frame.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig37.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MR. MOFFAT MET WILLIAM’S STONY STARE. THE OTHER<br /> -HELPERS WERE STARING BLANKLY AT THE WALL.</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter1"> -<img src="images/fig38.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“DON’T YOU THINK THAT POINT IS VERY IMPORTANT!”<br /> -ASKED WILLIAM’S UNCLE.</p> -</div> - -<p>William’s uncle opened the meeting:</p> - -<p>“... and we must emphasise the consequent drop -in the price of bread. Don’t you think that point is -very important, Mr. Moffat?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Moffat, a thin, pale youth with a large nose -and a naturally startled expression, answered as in -a trance, his mouth open, his strained eyes fixed upon -William.</p> - -<p>“Er—very important.”</p> - -<p>“Very—we can’t over-emphasise it,” said William’s -uncle.</p> - -<p>Mr. Moffat put up a trembling hand as if to loosen -his collar. He wondered if the others saw it too.</p> - -<p>“Over-emphasise it,” he repeated, in a trembling -voice.</p> - -<p>Then he met William’s stony stare and looked -away hastily, drawing his handkerchief across his -brow.</p> - -<p>“I think we can safely say,” said William’s uncle, -“that if the Government we desire is returned the -average loaf will be three-halfpence cheaper.”</p> - -<p>He looked round at his helpers. Not one was -taking notes. Not one was making a suggestion. All -were staring blankly at the wall behind him.</p> - -<p>Extraordinary what stupid fellows seemed to take -up this work—that chap with the large nose looked -nothing more or less than tipsy!</p> - -<p>“Here are some pamphlets that we should take -round with us....”</p> - -<p>He spread them out on the table. William was -interested. He could not see them properly from -where he was. He leant forward through his frame.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -He could just see the words, “Peace and Prosperity....” -He leant forward further. He leant -forward too far. Accidentally attaching his frame -round his neck on his way he descended heavily from -the hatch. There was only one thing to do to soften -his fall. He did it. He clutched at his uncle’s neck -as he descended. A confused medley consisting of -William, his uncle, the frame and his uncle’s chair -rolled to the floor where they continued to struggle -wildly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my <i>goodness</i>,” squealed the young man with -the large nose hysterically.</p> - -<p>Somehow in the mêlée that ensued William managed -to preserve his frame. He arrived home breathless -and dishevelled but still carrying his frame. He was -beginning to experience a feeling almost akin to -affection for this companion in adversity.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” said William’s father sternly. -“What have you been doing?”</p> - -<p>“Me?” said William in a voice of astonishment. -“Me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you,” said his father. “You come in here -like a tornado, half dressed, with your hair like a -neglected lawn——”</p> - -<p>William hastily smoothed back his halo of stubby -hair and fastened his collar.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>that</i>,” he said lightly. “I’ve only jus’ been -out—walking an’ things.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown looked up from her darning.</p> - -<p>“I think you’d better go and brush your hair and -wash your face and put on a clean collar, William,” -she suggested mildly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mother,” agreed William without enthusiasm. -“Father, did you know that the Libr’als are goin’ to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -make bread an’ everything cheaper an’—an’ prosperity -an’ all that?”</p> - -<p>“I did not,” said Mr. Brown dryly from behind his -paper.</p> - -<p>“I’d give it a good brushing,” said his wife.</p> - -<p>“If there weren’t no ole rackshunary Conservy here,” -said William, “I s’pose there wouldn’t be no reason -why the Lib’ral shouldn’t get in?”</p> - -<p>“As far as I can disentangle your negatives,” said -Mr. Brown, “your supposition is correct.”</p> - -<p>“I simply can’t <i>think</i> why it always stands up so -straight,” said Mrs. Brown plaintively.</p> - -<p>“Well, then, why don’t they <i>stop</i> ’em?” said William -indignantly. “Why do they <i>let</i> the ole Conservies -come in an’ spoil things an’ keep bread up—why don’t -they <i>stop</i> ’em—why——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown uttered a hollow groan.</p> - -<p>“William,” said he grimly. “Go—and—brush—your—hair.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said. “I’m jus’ goin’.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Mr. Cheytor, the Conservative candidate, had -addressed a crowded meeting and was returning wearily -to his home.</p> - -<p>He opened the door with his latchkey and put out -the hall light. The maids had gone to bed. Then he -went upstairs to his bedroom. He opened the door. -From behind the door rushed a small whirlwind. A -rough bullet-like head charged him in the region of -his abdomen. Mr. Cheytor sat down suddenly. A -strange figure dressed in pyjamas, and over those a -dressing-gown, and over that an overcoat, stood -sternly in front of him.</p> - -<p>“You’ve gotter <i>stop</i> it,” said an indignant voice.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -“You’ve gotter stop it an’ let the Lib’rals get in—you’ve -gotter stop——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cheytor stood up and squared at William. -William, who fancied himself as a boxer, flew to the -attack. The Conservative candidate was evidently a -boxer of no mean ability, but he lowered his form to -suit William’s. He parried William’s wild onsets, he -occasionally got a very gentle one in on William. -They moved rapidly about the room, in a silence -broken only by William’s snortings. Finally Mr. -Cheytor fell over the hearthrug and William fell over -Mr. Cheytor. They sat up on the floor in front of -the fire and looked at each other.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Mr. Cheytor soothingly. “Let’s talk -about it. What’s it all about?”</p> - -<p>“They’re goin’ to make bread cheaper—the Lib’rals -are,” panted William, “an’ you’re tryin’ to stoppem -an’ you——”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Mr. Cheytor, “but we’re going to make -it cheaper, too.”</p> - -<p>William gasped.</p> - -<p>“You?” he said. “The Rackshunaries? But—if -you’re both tryin’ to make bread cheaper why’re you -fightin’ each other?”</p> - -<p>“You know,” said Mr. Cheytor, “I wouldn’t bother -about politics if I were you. They’re very confusing -mentally. Suppose you tell me how you got here.”</p> - -<p>“I got out of my window and climbed along our -wall to the road,” said William simply, “and then I -got on to your wall and climbed along it into your -window.”</p> - -<p>“Now you’re here,” said Mr. Cheytor, “we may as -well celebrate. Do you like roasted chestnuts?”</p> - -<p>“Um-m-m-m-m-m,” said William.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve got a bag of chestnuts downstairs—we -can roast them at the fire. I’ll get them. By the -way, suppose your people find you’ve gone?”</p> - -<p>“My uncle may’ve come to see my father by now, -so I don’t mind not being at home jus’ now.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Cheytor accepted this explanation.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go down for the chestnuts then,” he said.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Fortune was kind to William. His uncle was very -busy and thought he would put off the laying of his -complaint before William’s father till the next week. -The next week he was still more busy. Encountering -William unexpectedly in the street he was struck by -William’s (hastily assumed) expression of wistful sadness, -and decided that the whole thing may have -been a misunderstanding. So the complaint was never -laid.</p> - -<p>Moreover, no one had discovered William’s absence -from his bedroom. William came down to breakfast -the next day with a distinct feeling of fear, but one -glance at his preoccupied family relieved him. He sat -down at his place with that air of meekness which in -him always betrayed an uneasy conscience. His father -looked up.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, William,” he said. “Care to see -the paper this morning? I suppose with your new -zeal for politics——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, politics!” said William contemptuously. “I’ve -given ’em up. They’re so—so,” frowning he searched -in his memory for the phrase, “They’re so—confusing -ment’ly.”</p> - -<p>His father looked at him.</p> - -<p>“Your vocabulary is improving,” he said.</p> - -<p>“You mean my hair?” said William with a gloomy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -smile. “Mother’s been scrubbin’ it back with water -same as what she said.”</p> - -<p>William walked along the village street with Ginger. -Their progress was slow. They stopped in front of -each shop window and subjected the contents to a -long and careful scrutiny.</p> - -<p>“There’s nothin’ <i>there</i> I’d buy ’f I’d got a thousand -pounds.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>isn’t</i> there? Well, I jus’ wonder. How much -’ve you got, anyway?”</p> - -<p>“Nothin’. How much have you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothin’.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, continuing a discussion which -their inspection of the General Stores had interrupted, -“I’d rather be a Pirate than a Red Indian—sailin’ the -seas an’ finding hidden treasure——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite see,” said Ginger with heavy sarcasm, -“what’s to prevent a Red Indian finding hidden -treasure if there’s any to find.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William heatedly, “you show me a -single tale where a Red Indian finds a hidden treasure. -That’s all I ask you to do. Jus’ show me a <i>single</i> -tale where a——”</p> - -<p>“We’re not talkin’ about tales. There’s things that -happen outside tales. I suppose everything in the -world that can happen isn’t in tales. ’Sides, think of -the war-whoops. A Pirate’s not got a war-whoop.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you think——”</p> - -<p>They stopped to examine the contents of the next -shop window. It was a second-hand shop. In the -window was a medley of old iron, old books, broken -photograph frames and dirty china.</p> - -<p>“An’ there’s nothin’ <i>there</i> I’d wanter buy if I’d got -a thousand pounds,” said William sternly. “It makes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -me almost glad I’ve <i>got</i> no money. It mus’ be -mad’ning to have a lot of money an’ never see anything -in a shop window you’d want to buy.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly Ginger pointed excitedly to a small card -propped up in a corner of the window, “Objects purchased -for Cash.”</p> - -<p>“William,” gasped Ginger. “The frame!”</p> - -<p>A look of set purpose came into William’s freckled -face. “You stay here,” he whispered quickly, “an’ -see they don’t take that card out of the window, an’ -I’ll fetch the frame.”</p> - -<p>Panting, he reappeared with the frame a few minutes -later. Ginger’s presence had evidently prevented the -disappearance of the card. An old man with a bald -head and two pairs of spectacles examined the frame -in silence, and in silence handed William half a crown. -William and Ginger staggered out of the shop.</p> - -<p>“Half a crown!” gasped William excitedly. -“Crumbs!”</p> - -<p>“I hope,” said Ginger, “you’ll remember who -<i>suggested</i> you buying that frame.”</p> - -<p>“An’ I <i>hope</i>,” said William, “that you’ll remember -whose sixpence bought it.”</p> - -<p>This verbal fencing was merely a form. It was a -matter of course that William should share his half a -crown with Ginger. The next shop was a pastry-cook’s. -It was the type of pastry-cook’s that William’s mother -would have designated as “common.” On a large -dish in the middle of the window was a pile of sickly-looking -yellow pastries full of sickly-looking yellow -butter cream. William pressed his nose against the -glass and his eyes widened.</p> - -<p>“I say,” he said, “only a penny each. Come on in.”</p> - -<p>They sat at a small marble-topped table, between<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> -them a heaped plate of the nightmare pastries, and ate -in silent enjoyment. The plate slowly emptied. -William ordered more. As he finished his sixth he -looked up. His uncle was passing the window talking -excitedly to Mr. Morrisse’s agent. Across the street a -man was pasting up a poster, “Vote for Cheytor.” -William regarded both with equal contempt. He took -up his seventh penny horror and bit it rapturously.</p> - -<p>“Fancy,” he said scornfully, “fancy people worryin’ -about what <i>bread</i> costs.”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">WILLIAM MAKES A NIGHT OF IT</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WILLIAM had disliked Mr. Bennison from the -moment he appeared, although Mr. Bennison -treated him with most conscientious kindness. William -disliked the way Mr. Bennison’s hair grew and the -way his teeth grew and the way his ears grew, and -he disliked most of all his agreeable manner to William -himself. He was not used to agreeable manners from -adults, and he distrusted them.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison was a bachelor and wrote books on the -training of children. He believed that children should -be led, not driven, that their little hearts should be -won by kindness, that their innocent curiosity should -always be promptly satisfied. He believed that -children trailed clouds of glory. He knew very few. -He certainly did not know William.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison had met Ethel, William’s sister, while -she was staying with an aunt. Ethel possessed blue -eyes and a riot of auburn hair of which William was -ashamed. He considered that red hair was quite inconsistent -with beauty. He found that most young men -who met Ethel did not share that opinion.</p> - -<p>Although Mr. Bennison had reached the mature age -of forty without having found any passion to supersede -his passion for educational theories, he experienced a -distinct quickening of his middle-aged heart at the -sight of Ethel with her forget-me-not eyes and copper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> -locks. William never could understand what men -“saw in” Ethel. William considered her interfering -and bad-tempered and stingy, and everything that an -ideal sister should not be. Yet there was no doubt -that adult males “saw something” in her.</p> - -<p>And William had the wisdom to make capital out of -this distorted idea of beauty whenever he could.</p> - -<p>William was in that state of bankruptcy which -occurred regularly in the middle of each week. He -was never given enough pocket money to last from -Saturday to Saturday. That was one of his great -grievances against life. And just now there were -some pressing calls on his purse.</p> - -<p>It was Ginger, William’s boon companion, who had -seen the tops in the shop window and realised suddenly -that the top season was upon them once more. The -next day, almost the whole school was equipped with -tops.</p> - -<p>Only William and Ginger seemed topless. To -William, a born leader, the position was intolerable. -It was Wednesday. The thought of waiting till -Saturday was not for one moment to be entertained. -Money must somehow or other be raised in the -interval.</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig39.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>Tops of a kind could be bought for sixpence, but -the really superior tops—the tops which befitted the -age and dignity of William and Ginger—cost one -shilling, and William and Ginger, never daunted by -difficulties, determined to raise the sum by the next -day.</p> - -<p>“We mus’ get a shilling each,” said William, with -his expression of grim and fixed determination, “an’ -we’ll buy ’em to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know what my folks are like,” said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -Ginger despondently. -“You know what it’s -like tryin’ to get money -out of ’em. ‘<i>Save</i> your -pocket money,’ they -say. If they’d <i>give</i> me -enough I’d be able to -save. What’s sixpence? -Could anyone save sixpence? -It’s gone in a -day—sixpence is. An’ -they say ‘save,’” he -ended bitterly.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said William, -“all I can say is that -no one’s folks can be stingier than mine, and that -if I can get a shilling——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but you’ve not got it yet, have you?” taunted -Ginger.</p> - -<p>“No,” said William confidently, “but you wait till -to-morrow!”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William had spoken confidently, but he felt far from -confident. He knew by experience the difficulty of -extorting money from his family. He had tried pathos, -resentment, indignation, pleading, and all had failed -on every occasion. He was generally obliged to have -recourse to finesse. He only hoped that on this occasion -Fate would provide circumstances on which he -could exercise his finesse.</p> - -<p>He entered the drawing-room, and it was then that -he first saw Mr. Bennison. It was then that he took -a violent and definite dislike to Mr. Bennison, yet he -had a wild hope that he might be a profitable source<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -of tips. With a mental vision of the tops before his -eyes he assumed an expression of virtue and innocence.</p> - -<p>“So this,” said Mr. Bennison, with a genial smile, -“is the little brother.”</p> - -<p>William’s expression of virtue melted into a scowl. -William was eleven years old. He objected to being -called a “little” anything.</p> - -<p>“I heard there was a little brother,” went on the -visitor, perpetrating the supreme mistake of laying his -hand upon William’s tousled head. “‘Will’ is the -name, is it not? ‘Willie’ for short, I presume? -Ha! Ha!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown, noting fearfully the expression upon -her son’s face, interposed.</p> - -<p>“We call him William,” she said rather hastily.</p> - -<p>“I call him ‘Willie’—for short,” smiled Mr. Bennison, -patting William’s unruly locks.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison laboured under the delusion that he -“got on with” children. It was well for his peace of -mind that William’s face was at that moment hidden -from him. It was only the thoughts of the top which -might be the outcome of all that made William endure -the indignity.</p> - -<p>“And I have brought a present for Willie-for-short,” -went on Mr. Bennison humorously.</p> - -<p>William’s heart rose. It might be a top. It might -be something he could exchange for a top. Best of -all, it might be money.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Bennison took a book out of his pocket -and handed it to William.</p> - -<p>The book was called “A Child’s Encyclopædia of -Knowledge.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brown, who could see William’s face, went -rather pale.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> - -<p>“Say ‘Thank you,’ William dear,” she said nervously, -then, hastily covering William’s murmured -thanks, “How very kind of you, Mr. Bennison. How -very kind. He’ll be most interested. I’m sure he will, -won’t you, William, dear? Er—I’m sure he will.”</p> - -<p>William freed himself from Mr. Bennison’s hand, and -went towards the door.</p> - -<p>“You will remember,” went on Mr. Bennison, -pleasantly, “that in my ‘Early Training of the Young’ -I lay down the rule that every present given to a -child should tend to his or her mental development. -I do not believe in giving a child presents of money -before he or she is sixteen. No really wise faculty -of choice is developed before then. I expect you -remember that in my ‘Parents’ Help,’ I said——”</p> - -<p>William crept quietly from the room.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>He went first of all to Ethel’s bedroom.</p> - -<p>She was reading a novel in an arm-chair.</p> - -<p>“Go away!” she said to William.</p> - -<p>In the midst of his preoccupation William found -time to wonder again what people “saw in” her. Well, -if they only <i>knew</i> her as well as he did.... But the -all-important question was the question of tops.</p> - -<p>“Ethel,” he said in a tone of brotherly sweetness -and Christian forgiveness, “have you got any tops -left? You must have had tops when you were young. -I wonder if you’d like to give ’em to me ’f you’ve got -any left, an’ I’ll use ’em up for you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve not,” snapped Ethel, “so go away.”</p> - -<p>William turned to the door, then turned back as -if struck by a sudden thought.</p> - -<p>“D’you remember, Ethel,” he said, “that I took -a spider out of your hair for you las’ summer? I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -wondered ’f you’d care to lend me a shilling jus’ till -my next pocket money——”</p> - -<p>“You <i>put</i> it in my hair first,” said Ethel indignantly, -“and I jolly well won’t, and I wish you’d go away.”</p> - -<p>William looked at her coldly.</p> - -<p>“<i>How</i> people can say you’re ’tractive——” he said. -“Well, all I can say is wait till they <i>know</i> you, an’ that -man downstairs coming jus’ ’cause of you an’ worryin’ -folks’ lives out an’ strokin’ their heads an’ givin’ ’em -books—well, you’d think he’d be ashamed, an’ you’d -think you’d be ashamed, too!”</p> - -<p>Ethel had flushed.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t think I want him,” she said. “I -should think I’m the only person who can grumble -about <i>him</i> being here. I have to stay up here all the -afternoon just because I can’t bear the nonsense he -talks when I’m down.”</p> - -<p>“How long’s he staying?” said William.</p> - -<p>“Oh, a week,” said Ethel viciously. “He said he -was motoring in the neighbourhood, and mother asked -him to stay a week. She likes him. He’s got three -cars and a lot of money, and he can talk the hind leg -off a donkey, and she likes him. All I can say,” -bitterly, “is that I’m going to have a nice week!”</p> - -<p>“What about a shilling?” said William, returning -to the more important subject. “Look here, ’f you -lend me a shilling now I’ll give you a shilling <i>an’</i> a -penny when I get my pocket money on Saturday. -I’ll not forget. A shilling <i>an’</i> a penny for a shilling. -I should think you’d call it a bargain.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wouldn’t,” said Ethel, “and I wish you’d -go—<i>away</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t call you very gen’rous, Ethel,” said -William loftily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig40.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>“No, and I’m not -likely to be generous -or feel generous with -that man in the house,” -said Ethel.</p> - -<p>William was silent. -He was silent for quite -a long time. William’s -silences generally meant -something.</p> - -<p>“S’pose,” he said at -last, “s’pose he went -to-morrow, would you -feel generous then?”</p> - -<p>“I would,” said Ethel -recklessly. “I’d feel it quite up to two shillings in -that case. But he won’t go. Don’t you think it! -And-will-you-<i>go away?</i>”</p> - -<p>William went, rather to her surprise, without demur.</p> - -<p>He walked very slowly downstairs. His brow was -knit in thought.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison was still talking to Mrs. Brown in the -drawing-room.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, that is one of my very firmest tenets. -I have laid stress on that in all my books. The child’s -curiosity must always be appeased. No matter at -what awkward time the child propounds the question, -he or she must be answered courteously and fully. -Curiosity must be appeased the moment it appears. -If a child came to me in the middle of the night for -knowledge,” he laughed uproariously at his joke, -“I trust I should give it to the best of my ability, -fully, and—er—as I said.... Ah, here, is our little -Willie-for-short.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> - -<p>Still holding his “Child’s Encyclopædia of Knowledge,” -William turned and quickly left the room.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison had had a good dinner and a pleasant -talk with Ethel before he came to bed.</p> - -<p>The talk had been chiefly on his side, but he preferred -it that way. He was thinking how pleasant -would be a life in which he could talk continuously -to Ethel, while he looked at her blue eyes and auburn -hair.</p> - -<p>He wrote a chapter of his new book, heading it -“Common Mistakes in the Treatment of Children.”</p> - -<p>He insisted in that chapter that children should be -treated with reverence and respect. He laid down his -favourite rule: “A child’s curiosity must be immediately -satisfied when and where it appears, irrespective of -inconvenience to the adult.”</p> - -<p>Then he got into bed.</p> - -<p>The bed was warm and comfortable and he was -drifting blissfully into a dreamless sleep when the -door opened and William, clad in pyjamas and carrying -the “Child’s Encyclopædia -of Knowledge,” appeared.</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig41.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>“’Scuse me disturbin’ -you,” said William politely, -“but it says in this book -what you kindly gave me -somethin’ about Socrates” -(William pronounced it in -two syllables ‘So-crates’) -“an’ I thought p’raps you -wun’t mind explaining to me -what they are. I dunno -what So-crates are.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison was on the whole rather pleased. In -all his books he had insisted that if the child came for -knowledge at midnight the child’s curiosity must be -satisfied then and there, and he was glad of an opportunity -of living up to his ideals. He dragged his mind -back from the rosy mists of sleep and endeavoured to -satisfy William’s thirst for knowledge.</p> - -<p>He talked long and earnestly about Socrates, his life -and teaching and his place in history. William listened -with an expressionless face.</p> - -<p>Whenever the other seemed inclined to draw his -remarks to a close William would gently interpose a -question which would set his eloquence going again at -full flow. But Mr. Bennison’s eyes began to droop and -his eloquence began to languish. He looked at his -watch. It was 12.30.</p> - -<p>“I think that’s all, my boy,” he said with quite a -passable attempt at bluff, hearty kindness in his voice.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t quite ’splained to me——” began -William.</p> - -<p>“I’ve told you all I know,” said Mr. Bennison -irritably.</p> - -<p>William, still clasping his book, went quietly from -the room.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison turned over and began to go to sleep. -It took a little time to get over the interruption, but -soon a delicious drowsiness began to steal over him.</p> - -<p>Going—going——</p> - -<p>William entered the room again, still carrying his -“Child’s Encyclopædia of Knowledge.”</p> - -<p>“It says in this book what you kindly gave me,” -he said earnestly, “all about Compound Interest, but -I don’t quite understand——”</p> - -<p>William was very clever at not understanding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -Compound Interest. He had an excellent repertoire of -intelligent questions about Compound Interest. At -school he could, for a consideration, “play” the -Mathematics master on Compound Interest for an -entire lesson while his friends amused themselves in -their own way in the desks behind.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison’s eloquence was somewhat lacking in -lucidity and inspiration this time, but he struggled -gallantly to clear the mists of William’s ignorance. -At times the earnestness of William’s expression -touched him. At times he distrusted it. At no time -did it suggest those clouds of glory that he liked to -associate with children. By 1.30 he had talked about -Compound Interest till he was hoarse.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you,” -he said with an air of irritation which he vainly -endeavoured to hide. “Er—shut the door after you. -It’s very draughty when you leave it open—er—dear -boy.”</p> - -<p>William, with the utmost docility, went out of -the room.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison turned over and tried to go to sleep. -It did not seem so easy to go to sleep this time. There -is something about explaining Compound Interest to -the young and ignorant that is very stimulating to -the brain.</p> - -<p>He tried to count sheep going through a stile and -they persisted in turning into the figures of a Compound -Interest sum. He tried to call back the -picture of domestic happiness with which the sight -of William’s sister had inspired him earlier in the -evening, and always the vision of William’s earnest, -inscrutable countenance rose to spoil it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> - -<p>Sheep—one—two—three—four—five——</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig42.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE DOOR OPENED AND<br /> -WILLIAM APPEARED FOR<br /> -THE THIRD TIME. “IN<br /> -THIS BOOK WHAT YOU<br /> -KINDLY GAVE ME,” HE<br /> -BEGAN, “IT TELLS ABOUT<br /> -THE STARS.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The door opened, and -William appeared with the -open book once more in -his hand.</p> - -<p>“In this book what -you kindly gave me,” he -began, “it tells about the -stars an’ the Lion an’ -that, an’ I can’t find the -Lion from the window, -though the stars are out. I -wondered ’f you’d kindly -let me look through -yours.”</p> - -<p>Sheep and stile vanished -abruptly. After a short -silence pregnant with unspoken -words, Mr. Bennison -sat up in bed. He looked -very weary as he stared -at William, but he was -doggedly determined to -act up to his ideals.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you can -see the Lion from this -side of the house, my -boy,” he said, in what he -imagined was a kind tone of voice, “it must be right -on the opposite side of the house.”</p> - -<p>“Then we could see it from my window,” said -William brightly and guilelessly, “if you’d kin’ly come -an’ help me find it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison said nothing for a few seconds. He -was counting forty to himself. It was a proceeding -to ensure self-control taught him by his mother in -early youth. It had never failed him yet, though it -nearly did on this occasion. Then he followed William -across the landing to his room.</p> - -<p>William was not content with the Lion. He insisted -on finding all the other constellations mentioned in the -book. At 2.30 Mr. Bennison staggered back to his -bedroom. He did not go to bed at once. He took -out the chapter he had written early in the evening -and crossed out the words, “A child’s curiosity must<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -be immediately satisfied when and where it appears, -irrespective of inconvenience to the adult.”</p> - -<p>He decided to cut out all similar sentiments in the -next editions of all his books.</p> - -<p>Then he got into bed. Sleep at last—blissful, -drowsy, soul-satisfying sleep.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig44.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MR. BENNISON SAT UP IN BED. HE LOOKED VERY<br /> -WEARY AS HE STARED AT WILLIAM.</p> -</div> - -<p>“Mr. Bennison—<i>Mr. Bennison</i>—in this book what -you kindly gave me there’s some kind of puzzles—‘’telligence -tests’ it calls ’em, an’ I can’t do ’em. -I wondered if you’d kindly help me——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I won’t,” said Mr. Bennison. “Go away. -Go away, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“There’s only a page of ’em,” said William.</p> - -<p>“Go <i>away</i>,” roared Mr. Bennison, drawing the clothes -over his head. “I tell you I won’t—<i>I won’t</i>——”</p> - -<p>William quietly went away.</p> - -<p>Now Mr. Bennison was a conscientious man. Left -alone in the silence of the night all desire for sleep -deserted him. He was horrified at his own depravity. -He had deliberately broken his own rule. He had -been false to his ideals.</p> - -<p>He had refused to satisfy the curiosity of the young -when and where it appeared. A child had come to -him for help in the middle of the night and he had -refused him or her. The child, moreover, might repeat -the story. It might get about. People might hold it -up against him.</p> - -<p>After wrestling with his conscience for half an hour -he arose and sought William in his room. At four -o’clock he was still trying to solve the intelligence -tests for William. William stood by wearing that -expression that Mr. Bennison was beginning to dislike -intensely.</p> - -<p>At 4:15 Mr. Bennison, looking wild and dishevelled,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> -returned to his room. But he was a broken man. -He struggled no longer against Fate. Five o’clock -found him explaining to William exactly why Charles I -had been put to death.</p> - -<p>Six o’clock found him trying to fathom the meaning -of “plunger” and “inductance” and “slider” and -various other words that occurred in the chapter on -Wireless. It fortunately never occurred to him that -they were all terms with which William was perfectly -familiar.</p> - -<p>As he held his head and tried to think from what -Greek or Latin words the terms might have been -derived, he missed the flicker that occasionally upset -the perfect repose of William’s features.</p> - -<p>At seven o’clock he felt really ill and went downstairs -to try to find a whisky-and-soda. It was not William’s -fault that he fell over the knitting on which Mrs. -Brown had been engaged the evening before, and -which had slipped from her chair on to the floor. His -frenzied efforts to disentangle his feet entangled them -still further.</p> - -<p>At last, with teeth bared in rage and wearing the -air of a Samson throwing off his enemies, he tore wildly -at the wool, and scattering bits of this material and -unravelled socks about him, he strode forward to the -sideboard. He could not find a whisky-and-soda. -After upsetting a cruet in the sideboard cupboard he -went guiltily back to his bedroom.</p> - -<p>His bed looked tidier than he imagined he had left -it, and very inviting. Perhaps he might get just half -an hour’s sleep before he got up.... He flung himself -on to the bed. His feet met with an unexpected -resistance half-way down the bed, bringing his knees<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -sharp up to his chin. The bed was wrong. The bed -was all wrong. The bed was all very wrong.</p> - -<p>For a few seconds Mr. Bennison forgot the traditions -of self-restraint and moderation of language on which -he had been reared. William, standing in the doorway, -listened with interest.</p> - -<p>“I hope you don’t mind me tryin’ ’f I could do it,” -he said. “I dunno why it’s called an apple-pie bed, -do you? It doesn’t say nothing about it in this -book what you kindly gave me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bennison flung himself upon William with a -roar. William dodged lightly on to the landing. Mr. -Bennison followed and collided heavily with a housemaid -who was carrying a tray of early morning tea.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William came down to breakfast. He entered the -dining-room slowly and cautiously. Only his father -and mother were there. His mother was talking to -his father.</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t even stay for breakfast,” she was -saying. “He said his letter called him back to town -on most urgent business. I didn’t like his manner -at all.”</p> - -<p>“Oh?” said her husband from behind his paper, -without much interest.</p> - -<p>“No, I thought it rather ungracious, and he looked -queer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh?” said her husband, turning to the financial -columns.</p> - -<p>“Yes—wild and hollow-eyed and that sort of thing. -I’ve wondered since whether perhaps he takes drugs. -One reads of such things, you know, and he certainly -looked queer. I’m glad he’s gone.”</p> - -<p>William went up to Ethel’s bedroom. Ethel was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> -gloomily putting the finishing touches to her auburn -hair.</p> - -<p>“He’s gone, Ethel,” he said in a conspiratorial -whisper, “gone for good.”</p> - -<p>Ethel’s countenance brightened.</p> - -<p>“Sure?” she said.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” he said. “Now what ’bout that two -shillings?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with sudden suspicion.</p> - -<p>“Have you——?” she began.</p> - -<p>“Me?” broke in William indignantly. “Why, I din’ -know he’d gone till I got down to breakfast.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ethel carelessly. “If he’s really -and truly gone, I’ll give you half a crown.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William, on his way to school, met Ginger at the -end of the lane.</p> - -<p>“I’ve tried ’em all,” said Ginger despondently, “an’ -none of ’em’ll give me a penny.”</p> - -<p>William with a flourish brought out his half a crown.</p> - -<p>“This’ll do for both of us,” he said with a lordly air.</p> - -<p>“Crumbs!” said Ginger, with respect and admiration -in his voice. “Who d’you get that out of?”</p> - -<p>“Well, a man came to stay at our house——” -began William.</p> - -<p>Ginger’s respect and admiration vanished.</p> - -<p>“Oh, a <i>visitor!</i>” he said disparagingly. “’S easy -enough to get money out of a visitor.”</p> - -<p>“’F you think <i>this</i> was easy,” began William with -deep feeling, then stopped.</p> - -<p>It was a long story and already retreating into the -limbo of the past. He could not sully the golden -present by a lengthy repetition of it. It had been -jolly hard work while it lasted, but now it was over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -and done with. It belonged to the past. The present -included a breathless run into the village, leaping backwards -and forwards across the ditches, a race down -the village streets and TOPS—glorious tops—superior -shilling-each tops with sixpence over.</p> - -<p>He uttered his shrill, discordant war-whoop.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he shouted, “’fore they’re all sold out. -Race you to the end of the road!”</p> -<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> -</div> - -<p class="c large">A DRESS REHEARSAL</p> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was Saturday, but despite that glorious fact, -William, standing at the dining-room window and -surveying the world at large, could not for the moment -think of anything to do.</p> - -<p>From the window he saw the figure of his father, -who sat peacefully on the lawn reading a newspaper. -William was not fond of his own society. He liked -company of any sort. He went out to the lawn and -stood by his father’s chair.</p> - -<p>“You’ve not got much hair right on the top of your -head, father,” he said pleasantly and conversationally.</p> - -<p>There was no answer.</p> - -<p>“I said you’d not got much hair on the top of your -head,” repeated William in a louder tone.</p> - -<p>“I heard you,” said his father coldly.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said William, sitting down on the ground. -There was silence for a minute, then William said in -friendly tones:</p> - -<p>“I only said it again ’cause I thought you didn’t -hear the first time. I thought you’d have said, ‘Oh,’ -or ‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’ or something if you’d heard.”</p> - -<p>There was no answer, and again after a long silence, -William spoke.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mind you not sayin’ ‘Oh,’ or ‘Yes,’ or -‘No,’” he said, “only that was what made me say it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> -again, ’cause with you not sayin’ it I thought you’d -not heard.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown arose and moved his chair several feet -away. William, on whom hints were wasted, followed.</p> - -<p>“I was readin’ a tale yesterday,” he said, “about a -man wot’s legs got bit off by sharks——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Brown groaned.</p> - -<p>“William,” he said politely, “pray don’t let me keep -you from your friends.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, that’s quite all right,” said William. -“Well—p’raps Ginger is lookin’ for me. Well, I’ll -finish about the man an’ the sharks after tea. You’ll -be here then, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Please, don’t trouble,” said Mr. Brown with sarcasm -that was entirely lost on his son.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s not a trouble,” said William as he strolled -off, “I like talkin’ to people.”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>Ginger was strolling disconsolately down the road -looking for William. His face brightened when he -saw William in the distance.</p> - -<p>“Hello, William.”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Ginger.”</p> - -<p>In accordance with their usual ceremonial greeting, -they punched each other and wrestled with each other -till they rolled on to the ground. Then they began -to walk along the road together.</p> - -<p>“I’ve not got to stop with you long,” said Ginger -gloomily; “my mother’s got an ole Sale of Work in -her garden, an’ she wants me to help.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” said William scornfully, “<i>you</i> helpin’ at a -Sale of Work! <i>You.</i> Huh!”</p> - -<p>“She’s goin’ to give me five shillings,” went on -Ginger coldly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> - -<p>William slightly modified his tone. “Well, I never -said you can’t help, did I?” he said in a more friendly -voice.</p> - -<p>“She said I needn’t go for about half an hour. -Wot’ll we do? Dig for hidden treasure?”</p> - -<p>Two months ago William and his friends had been -fired with the idea of digging for hidden treasure. -From various books they had read (“Ralph the -Reckless,” “Hunted to Death,” “The Quest of Captain -Terrible,” etc.), they had gathered that the earth is -chockful of buried treasure if only one takes the -trouble to dig deep enough.</p> - -<p>They had resolved to dig every inch of their native -village, collect all the treasure they found, and with -it buy a desert island on which they proposed to spend -the rest of their lives unhampered by parents and -schoolmasters.</p> - -<p>They had decided to begin with the uncultivated -part of Ginger’s back garden, and to buy further land -for excavation with the treasure they found in the -back garden.</p> - -<p>Their schemes were not narrow. They had decided -to purchase and to pull down all the houses in the -village as their treasure grew and more and more -land was required for digging.</p> - -<p>But they had dug unsuccessfully for two months in -Ginger’s back garden and were beginning to lose heart. -They had not realised that digging was such hard work, -or that ten feet square of perfectly good land would -yield so little treasure. Conscientiously they carried -on the search, but it had lost its first fine careless -rapture, and they were glad of any excuse for -avoiding it.</p> - -<p>“Dig in your back garden with all those Sale of Work<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> -people messin’ about interruptin’ and gettin’ in the -way?” said William sternly. “Not much!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ginger relieved. “I only <i>s’gested</i> -it. Well, shall we hunt for smugglers?”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>There was a cave in the hillside just beneath the -road, and though the village in which William and -Ginger lived was more than a hundred miles inland, -William and Ginger were ever hopeful of finding a -smuggler or, at any rate, traces of a smuggler, in the -cave. They searched it carefully every day.</p> - -<p>As William said, “’S’only likely the reely cunnin’ -ones wouldn’t stay sittin’ in their caves by the sea all -the time. They’d know folks’d be on the look out -for ’em there. They’d bring their things here where -no one’d expect ’em. Why, with a fine cave like this -there’s <i>sure</i> to be smugglers.”</p> - -<p>When tired of hunting for smugglers, or traces of -smugglers, they adopted the characters of smugglers -themselves, and carried their treasure (consisting of -stones) up the hillside to conceal it in the cave, or fled -for their lives to the cave with imaginary soldiers in -pursuit. From the cover of the cave, Bill, the smuggler, -often covered the entire hillside with the dead bodies -of soldiers. In these frays the gallant smugglers never -received even the slightest scratch.</p> - -<p>With ever fresh hope they searched the cave again. -Ginger found a stone that he said had not been there -yesterday, and must have been left as a kind of signal, -but William said that he distinctly recognised it as -having been there yesterday, and the matter dropped.</p> - -<p>After a brief and indecisive discussion as to how -they should spend the five shillings that Ginger’s mother -had said she would give him, they occupied themselves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -in crawling laboriously on their stomachs in and out -of the cave so as to be unperceived by the soldiers -who were on the watch above and below.</p> - -<p>At last, Ginger, moved not so much by his conscience -as by fears of forfeiting his five shillings, set off sadly -homewards, and William set off along the road in the -opposite direction.</p> - -<p>He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, dragging -his shoes in the dust in a manner which his mother -frequently informed him brought the toes through in -no time.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>When he came to the school he stopped, attracted -by the noise that came through the open window of -the schoolroom. They were preparing for a dress -rehearsal of the “Pageant of Ancient Britain,” which -was to be performed the next month. William, who -was not in the caste, looked with interest through the -window. Ancient Britons in various stages of skins -and woad and grease paint stood about the room or -leap-frogged over each other’s backs or wrestled with -each other in corners. William espied a particular -enemy at the other end of the room. He put his head -through the window.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Monkey Brand,” he called in his strident, -devastating voice.</p> - -<p>Miss Carter, mistress of the Second Form, raised -herself wearily from arranging the skin of an infant -Ancient Briton.</p> - -<p>“I wish you wouldn’t,” she began testily, then, her -voice sinking into hopelessness, “Oh, it’s William -Brown.”</p> - -<p>William, ignoring her, put his fingers to his lips and, -still gazing belligerently at his enemy, emitted a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -deafening whistle. Miss Carter put her hands to her -ears.</p> - -<p>“<i>William!</i>” she said irritably.</p> - -<p>William wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon,” he said mechanically and without -feeling, as he withdrew his head and prepared to retire.</p> - -<p>“Oh, one minute, William. What are you doing -just now?”</p> - -<p>William inserted his untidy head in the window again.</p> - -<p>“Me?” he said. “Nothin’. Jus’ nothin’.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wish you’d come and be an Ancient Briton -just for the dress rehearsal—it won’t be long, but so -many of them can’t come this afternoon, and it’s so -difficult to arrange how they’re to stand with only -three-quarters of them there. You needn’t be made -up, but just put this skin on.”</p> - -<p>She held up a small skin carelessly in her hand. -William looked round the room with his sternest and -most disapproving scowl.</p> - -<p>“Have I gotter come in with all those boys all over -the place an’ change with all those boys botherin’ me -all the time so’s I don’t know wot I’m doin’ an’——”</p> - -<p>Miss Carter was in a bad temper. She threw the -skin irritably at William through the window.</p> - -<p>“Oh, change where you like,” she snapped, “if -you’ll be back here in five minutes.”</p> - -<p>William took the skin eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I will,” he promised.</p> - -<p>Then he rolled up the skin and stuffed it under his -arm. It instantly changed into a bale of precious -but vague contraband material.</p> - -<p>Glancing sternly round for soldiers, William crept -cautiously and silently down to his cave. There he -drew a sigh of relief, placed his gun in a corner and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -changed into the skin. Once clad in the skin, his -ordinary clothes became the precious but vague contraband -material. He crept to the entrance, glanced -furtively around, then wrapped his clothes into a -bundle and looked around for some place of concealment. -On the ground at the further end of the cave -was a large piece of paper in which he and Ginger -had once brought their lunch.</p> - -<p>Still with many furtive glances around, he wrapped -up his clothes and concealed the bundle on a shelf -of rock in the corner of the cave. Then he took up -his gun, shot two soldiers who were just creeping towards -the entrance of the cave, walked to the doorway, -shot again at a crowd of soldiers who fled in panic -terror at his approach. Then, resplendent in his skin -and drunk with heroism and triumph, he swaggered -up the hillside and into the school.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>As an Ancient Briton, he was not an unqualified -success, and more than once Miss Carter regretted her -casual invitation. William considered the rehearsal as -disappointing as the rehearsal considered him—just -standin’ about an’ singin’ an’ talkin’—no fightin’ nor -shoutin’ nor nothin’. He was glad he <i>wasn’t</i> a -Nanshunt Briton, if that’s all the poor things could -do.</p> - -<p>However, at last it was over, and he crept again -furtively down the hillside to his private dressing-room. -Ginger was standing near the cave entrance.</p> - -<p>“What’ve you been <i>doing</i> all this time?” he began; -then, as his gaze took in William’s costume, his mouth -opened.</p> - -<p>“Crumbs!” he said.</p> - -<p>“I’m a Nanshunt Briton,” said William, airily.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -“They jus’ wanted me to go an’ be a Nanshunt Briton -up at the school an’——”</p> - -<p>“Well,” interrupted Ginger excitedly, “while you’ve -been away I’ve <i>found</i> ’em at last.”</p> - -<p>“What?” said William.</p> - -<p>“Smugglers!” said Ginger excitedly. “Smugglers’ -things.”</p> - -<p>“Golly!” said William, equally thrilled. “Where?”</p> - -<p>“In the cave—when I came to look for you, an’ I -cun’t find you, an’ I looked round the cave again, an’ -I found ’em.”</p> - -<p>A sudden fear chilled William’s enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“What were they?”</p> - -<p>“Clothes an’ things. I thought I wun’t look at ’em -prop’ly till you came. They was wrapped up in that -ole paper we brought our food in last week.”</p> - -<p>The Ancient Briton looked at him sternly and -accusingly.</p> - -<p>“Yes—well, they were my clothes wot I’d changed -out of, that’s what they were. You’re jus’ a bit too -clever takin’ people’s clothes for smugglers’ things. -Anyway, I’m jus’ gettin’ cold with only a skin on, so -jus’ please give me those smugglers’ things, so’s I can -put ’em on.”</p> - -<p>Ginger’s jaw dropped.</p> - -<p>“I—I took ’em home. I didn’t want to leave ’em -about here case someone else found ’em. I hid ’em -behind a tree in our garden.”</p> - -<p>The Ancient Briton’s gaze became still more stern.</p> - -<p>“Well, p’raps you’d kin’ly gettem for me out of -your garden ’fore I die of cold, dressed in only a skin. -I should think the Anshunt Britons all died of cold -if they felt like wot I feel like. You’re jus’ a bit too -clever with other people’s smugglers’ things; an’ s’pose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> -Miss Carter comes down for her skin an’ wot d’you -think I’ll look like then, dressed in nothin’?”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Ginger. “I’ll gettem. I won’t be -a minute. If you will leave your clothes all about the -cave lookin’ <i>exactly</i> like smugglers’ things——”</p> - -<p>He was gone, and William sat shivering in a corner -of the cave, dressed in his Ancient Briton costume. -The glamour of the cave was gone. William felt that -he definitely disliked smugglers. The only people he -disliked more than he disliked smugglers were Ancient -Britons, for whom he now felt a profound scorn and -loathing.</p> - -<p>In about ten minutes’ time Ginger returned. He was -empty handed, and there was a look of consternation -on his face.</p> - -<p>“William,” he said meekly, “I’m awfully sorry. It’s -been sold. They thought it was meant for the rummage -stall, an’ they’ve took it an’ sold it.”</p> - -<p>William was speechless with indignation.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said at last, “you’ve gone an’ sold all -my clothes—an’ <i>now</i> what do you think’s goin’ to -happen to me? That’s jus’ wot I’d like to know, ’f -you don’ mind tellin’ me. Wot’s goin’ to happen to -me? P’raps as you’ve sold all my clothes, you’ll kin’ly -tell me wot’s goin’ to happen to me, gettin’ colder an’ -colder. P’raps you’d like me to freeze to death. -How’m I goin’ to get home, an’ if I don’t get home -how’m I goin’ to get anythin’ to eat, and if I don’t -get anythin’ to eat, how’m I goin’ to live? I’m dyin’ -of cold now. Well, I only hope you’ll be sorry then—then, -when prob’ly you’ll be bein’ hung for murderin’ -me.” William returned to earth from his flights of -fancy. “Well, now, p’raps you’ll kin’ly get my -clothes back.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig45.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">“WELL,” SAID WILLIAM STERNLY, “YOU’VE GONE<br /> -AND SOLD ALL MY CLOTHES—AN’ NOW WHAT DO YOU<br /> -THINK’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME? HOW’M I GOIN’<br /> -TO GET HOME?”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> - -<p>“How can I?” said -Ginger, with the air of one -goaded beyond endurance.</p> - -<p>“Well, you can go an’ -find out who bought ’em, I -suppose—only you needn’t -tell ’em whose they was.”</p> - -<p>Again Ginger departed, -and again the Ancient -Briton sat shivering and -gazing sternly and accusingly -around the cave.</p> - -<p>After a short interval -Ginger appeared again, -breathless with running.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Groves bought it, William, from Wayside -Cottage. I dunno how I’m to get ’em back, though, -William.”</p> - -<p>William sighed.</p> - -<p>“I’d better come with you,” he said wearily. -“’Sides, I shall prob’ly get froze into a glacier or -something if I stay in here any more.”</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig46.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p>The Ancient Briton gazed furtively around from the -cave door, without that bravado and swagger generally -displayed by Bill the Smuggler. The coast was clear. -The two boys crept out.</p> - -<p>“When I get to the road, I’ll crawl on my stomach -in the ditch like as if I were a smuggler, then no -one’ll see me.”</p> - -<p>Ginger walked dejectedly along the road, while the -Ancient Briton made a slow and very conspicuous -progress in the ditch beside him—ejaculating irascibly -as he went:</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve jus’ <i>done</i> with smugglers <i>an’</i> with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -Anshunt Britons. I’ll never look at another smuggler -<i>or</i> a Nanshunt Briton while I live—’n if you hadn’t -been so jolly <i>clever</i> runnin’ off with other people’s -clothes, an’ <i>sellin’</i> ’em, I shouldn’t be crawlin’ along -<i>an’</i> scratchin’ myself, <i>an’</i> cuttin’ myself, <i>an’</i> eatin’ -mud. Now,” in a voice of pure wonder, “how did -Anshunt Britons get about? I don’t know—all -shiverin’ with cold an’ scratchin’ themselves <i>an’</i> cuttin’ -themselves——”</p> - -<p>Wayside Cottage was, fortunately for the Ancient -Briton, on the outskirts of the village. The front door -was conveniently open. There was a small garden in -front, and a longer garden behind, with a little corrugated -iron building at the end.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” said William. “Let’s go an’ get ’em -back.”</p> - -<p>“Are you goin’ to ask him for ’em?” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m <i>not</i>. I don’t want everyone in this village -talking about it,” said William sternly. “I jus’ want -to get ’em back quietly an’ put ’em on an’ no one -know anything about it. I don’t want anyone <i>talkin’</i> -about it.”</p> - -<p>No one was about. They gazed at the stairs from -the open doorway. “They’ll be upstairs,” said William -in a hoarse whisper; “clothes are always upstairs. -Now, come <i>very</i> quietly. <i>Creep</i> upstairs.”</p> - -<p>Ginger followed him loyally, fearfully, reluctantly, -and they went upstairs. Every time Ginger hit a stair -rod, or made a stair creak, William turned round with -a stern and resonant “Sh!” At last they reached the -landing. William cautiously opened the door and -peeped within. It was a bedroom, and it was empty.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” whispered William, with the cheerfulness -of the born optimist. “They’re sure to be here.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> - -<p>They entered and closed the door.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said William, “we’ll look in all the drawers -and then we’ll look in the wardrobe.”</p> - -<p>They began to open the drawers one by one. -Suddenly Ginger said “Hush!”</p> - -<p>There was the sound of footsteps coming up the -stairs. They drew nearer the door.</p> - -<p>“Crumbs!” gasped William. “Under the bed—quick!”</p> - -<p>As they disappeared under the bed the door opened -and a little old gentleman came in. He looked round -at the open drawers and frowned.</p> - -<p>“How curious!” he said as he shut them; “how very -curious!”</p> - -<p>Then he hummed to himself, straightened his collar -at the glass, took a few little dancing steps round the -room, and then stood irresolute, his hand on his chin.</p> - -<p>“Now what did I come up for?” he said. “What -did I come up for? Ah! A handkerchief.”</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig47.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">WILLIAM DASHED FOR THE<br /> -DOORWAY, UPSETTING THE OLD<br /> -GENTLEMAN ON HIS WAY.</p> -</div> - -<p>All might have been well had not the Ancient Briton -at this moment succumbed to the united effects of cold -and dust, and emitted a resounding sneeze.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” said the old gentleman. “Bless -my——”</p> - -<p>He dived beneath the bed, and, seizing hold of -William’s bare and muddy foot, he pulled. But -William had firm hold of the further leg of the bed, and -the old gentleman, exerting his utmost strength, only -succeeded in pulling the bed across the room with -William still firmly attached to it. But this treatment -infuriated William.</p> - -<p>“’F you’d kin’ly stop draggin’ me about on my -stomach——” he began, then emerged, stern and dusty, -and arranging his skimpy and dishevelled skin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span></p> - -<p>“You—you—you <i>thief!</i>” said the old man.</p> - -<p>“I’m not a thief,” said William, “I’m a Nanshunt——”</p> - -<p>But the old man made a dash at him and William -dodged and fled out of the doorway. Ginger was -already half-way downstairs. The old man was delayed, -first by the door, which William banged in his -face, and secondly by the fact that he slipped on the -top stair and rolled down to the bottom.</p> - -<p>There he sat up, looked for his spectacles, found -them, adjusted them and gazed round the hall, still -seated on the hall -mat. The two boys -were nowhere to be -seen. Muttering -“Dear! Dear!” and -“Bless my soul! -Let me see, what -was it I wanted?—Ah, -a handkerchief!” -the old man -began to ascend the -stairs.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>But William and -Ginger had not -gone out of the -front door. A -group of Ginger’s -mother’s friends -could be plainly -seen passing the -little gateway, and -in panic William -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span>and Ginger had dashed out of the back door into -the little garden, and into the corrugated iron building. -A lady, dressed in an artist’s smock, a paint -brush in her hand, looked up from an easel.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig48.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">THE OLD GENTLEMAN LANDED ON TOP OF THE CANVAS<br /> -AND SAT THERE MURMURING, “OH, DEAR! OH, DEAR!”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Please don’t come in quite so roughly,” she said -disapprovingly. “I don’t like rough little boys.” She -looked William up and down, and her disapproval -seemed to deepen. “Well,” she said stiffly, “it doesn’t -seem to me <i>quite</i> the costume. I should have thought -the Vicar—— However, you’d better stay now you’ve -come. Is the other little boy your friend? He must -sit down quite quietly and not disturb us. You may -just look at the picture first for a treat.” Bewildered, -but ready to oblige her, William wandered round and -looked at it. It seemed to consist of a chaos of snow -and polar bears.</p> - -<p>“It’s to be called The Frozen North,” she said -proudly. “Now you must stand in the attitude of one -drawing a sleigh—so—no, the expression more <i>gentle</i>, -please. I must say I do <i>not</i> care for the costume, but -the Vicar must know——”</p> - -<p>“I’m a Nanshunt——” began William, then decided -to take the line of least resistance and be the Frozen -North. The lady painted in silence for some time, -occasionally looking at William’s rather mangy skin, -and saying disapprovingly: “No, I must <i>say</i>—I do -<i>not</i>—but, of course, the Vicar——”</p> - -<p>Just as the charm of novelty was disappearing from -the procedure, and he was devising means of escape, -another lady came in.</p> - -<p>“Busy, dear?” she said, then she adjusted her -lorgnettes, and she, too, looked disapprovingly at -William.</p> - -<p>“My dear!” she said. “Isn’t that rather—— Well,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> -of course, I know you artists are—well, Bohemian and -all that, but——”</p> - -<p>The artist looked worried.</p> - -<p>“My dear,” she said, “I showed the Vicar the picture -yesterday, and he said that he had a child’s Esquimo -costume, and he’d find a boy to fit in and send it round -for a model. But—I’d an idea that the esquimos -dressed more—er—more <i>completely</i> than that, hadn’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“I’m a Nanshunt——” began William, and stopped -again.</p> - -<p>“You remember Mrs. Parks asking for money to -buy clothes for her boy?” went on the artist as she -painted. “Well, I got John to go to that Sale of -Work this afternoon and get a suit from the rummage -stall, and he got quite a good suit, and I’ve just sent -it round to her. Do stand <i>still</i>, little boy—You -know, dear, I wish I felt happier about this—er—costume. -Yet I feel I ought not to criticise and even -in my mind, anything the dear Vicar——”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be quite frank,” said the visitor. “I -don’t care for it—and I do think that artists can’t be -too careful—any suggestion of the nude is so—well, -don’t you agree with me? I’m <i>surprised</i> at the Vicar.”</p> - -<p>The artist held out half a crown to William.</p> - -<p>“You may go,” she said coldly. “Take the costume -back to the Vicar, and I <i>don’t</i> think I shall require -you again.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the little old man came in. He -started as his eye fell on William and Ginger.</p> - -<p>“The <i>thief!</i>” he said excitedly. “The <i>thief!</i> Catch -him, catch him, <i>catch</i> him!”</p> - -<p>William dashed to the doorway, upsetting the old -man and a wet canvas on his way. The old man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> -landed on top of the canvas and sat there murmuring, -“Oh, dear, oh dear, what a day!” and looking for -his glasses.</p> - -<p>The visitor pursued the two of them half-heartedly -to the gate, and then returned to help in the work of -separating the old gentleman from the wet canvas.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William and Ginger sat in a neighbouring ditch and -looked at each other breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“Parks,” said Ginger, “that’s the shop at the end -of the village.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said William, “an’ I’m jus’ about sick of -crawlin’ in ditches, an’ what’s wrong with it I’d like -to know,” he went on, looking down indignantly at -his limp skin, “it’s all right—not as clothes—but as -a kind of dress-up thing it’s all right—as good as that -ole pinnyfore <i>she</i> was wearing, an’ I jolly nearly said -so—an’ ‘thief,’ too. Well, I wun’t go inside that house -again, not if—not if—not if they <i>asked</i> me—Anyway,” -his expression softened, “anyway, I got half a crown,” -his expression grew bitter once more, “half a crown, an’ -not even a pocket to put it in. Come on to Parks’.”</p> - -<p>William returned to the ditch. They only passed a -little girl and her small brother.</p> - -<p>“Look, Algy,” said the little girl, “look at ’im. -’E’s a loony an’ the other’s ’is keeper. ’E thinks ’e’s -a frog, prob’ly, an’ that’s why ’e goes in ditches, an’ -doesn’t wear no clothes.”</p> - -<p>William straightened himself.</p> - -<p>“I’m a Nanshunt——” he began, but at sight of his -red and muddy face, surmounted by its crest of muddy -hair, the little girl fled screaming.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Algy, ’e’ll get yer an’ eat yer if yer -don’t——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> - -<p>Algy’s screams reinforced hers, and William disconsolately -returned to the ditch as the screams, still -lusty, faded into the distance.</p> - -<p>“I’m jus’ getting a bit sick of this,” muttered the -Ancient Briton.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>They reached Parks’. William lay concealed behind -the hedge, and Ginger wandered round the shop, -reconnoitring.</p> - -<p>“Go in!” goaded William, in a hoarse whisper from -the hedge. “Go in an’ gettem. Say you’ll fetch a -policeman—<i>make</i> ’em give ’em you—<i>fight</i> ’em—<i>take</i> -’em—<i>you</i> lettem go—I can’t stand this much longer. -I’m cold an’ I’m wet. I feel as if I’d been a Nanshunt -Briton for years an’ years—hurry up—Are-you-goin’-to-get-me-my-<i>clothes?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shut <i>up!</i>” said Ginger miserably. “I’m doin’ -all I can.”</p> - -<p>“Doin’ all you can, are you? Well, you’re not -doin’ much but walkin’ round an’ round the shop. -D’you think ’f you go on walkin’ round and round the -shop my clothes’ll come out of themselves—come -<i>walkin’</i> out to you? ’Cause if you think that——”</p> - -<p>“Shut <i>up</i>.”</p> - -<p>At this moment a small boy walked out of the shop.</p> - -<p>“Hallo!” said Ginger, with a fatuous smile of -friendship.</p> - -<p>“Hallo!” said the boy, ungraciously.</p> - -<p>Ginger moistened his lips and repeated the fatuous -smile.</p> - -<p>“Have you got any new clothes to-day?”</p> - -<p>The boy gave a fairly good imitation of the fatuous -smile.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “have you? Don’t go spoilin’ your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> -fice for me. It’s bee-utiful, but don’t waste it on -me.”</p> - -<p>Then, whistling, he prepared to walk away from -Ginger down the road. Desperately Ginger stopped -him.</p> - -<p>“I’ll—I’ll—I’ll give you,” he swallowed, then, with -an effort, made the nobler offer. “I’ll give you five -shillings if——”</p> - -<p>“Yus?” said the boy suddenly, “if——?”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll give me those clothes the lady wot paints -sent you to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Gimme the five shillings then.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t give you the money till you give me the -clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, won’t you? Well, I won’t give you the clothes -till you give me the money.”</p> - -<p>They stared hostilely at each other.</p> - -<p>“Get my clothes,” said the irate voice from the -ditch. “Punch him—do anythin’ to him. Get—my—clothes.”</p> - -<p>The boy looked round with interest into the ditch.</p> - -<p>“Look at ’im!” he shrieked mirthfully. “Look at -’im. <i>Na</i>kid—jus’ dressed in a muff—Oh! look at ’im.”</p> - -<p>William arose with murder in his face. Ginger -hastily pressed the five shillings into the boy’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Gettem quick,” he said.</p> - -<p>The boy retreated to the shop and closed the door -except for a small crack. Through that crack he -shouted, “We din’ want no narsty, mangy, mouldy, -cast-off clothes from no one. We gived ’em to -Johnsons up the village.”</p> - -<p>Then he banged the door.</p> - -<p>William, in fury, kicked the door, and a crowd of -small boys collected. William, perceiving them, fled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> -through the hedge and into the field. The small boys -followed, uttering derisive cries.</p> - -<p>“<i>Look</i> at ’im—<i>Look</i> at ’im—’e’s a cannibal—he’s -got no clothes—’e’s out of a circus—’e’s balmy—’e’s -wearin’ ’is mother’s fur.”</p> - -<p>William turned on them in fury.</p> - -<p>“I’m a Nanshunt——” he began, rushing upon -them; and they fled in panic.</p> - -<p>William and Ginger sat down behind a haystack.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re very clever at gettin’ back my clothes, -aren’t you?” said William with heavy sarcasm.</p> - -<p>“I’m gettin’ jus’ about sick of your clothes,” said -Ginger gloomily.</p> - -<p>“Sick of ’em?” echoed William. “I only wish I’d -gottem to be sick of. I’m jus’ about sick of not -havin’ ’em an’ walkin’ about on prickles an’ stones and -scratchin’ myself an’ shiverin’ with cold. That boy’d -jus’ better wait till I <i>get</i> my clothes an’ then——” His -eyes gleamed darkly with visions of future vengeance.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he turned to Ginger, “an’ wot we goin’ to -do now?”</p> - -<p>“Dunno,” said Ginger despondently.</p> - -<p>“Well, where’s Johnsons?”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Johnson’s my aunt’s charwoman,” said Ginger, -wearily. “I know where she lives.”</p> - -<p>William rose with a determined air.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he said.</p> - -<p>“If we don’t gettem this time,” said Ginger, as they -started on their furtive journey, “I’m going home.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, are you,” said William sternly. “Well, then, -you’re goin’ in this Anshunt Briton thing an’ I’m -goin’ in your clothes. You lost my clothes an’ if you -can’t gettem back you can give me yours, that’s fair, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, shut <i>up</i>,” said Ginger, in the tone of one who -has suffered all that it is possible to suffer and can -suffer no more. “It’s that five shillings that I keep -thinkin’ of—<i>five shillin’s</i>—an’ all for nothin’.”</p> - -<p>“An’ callin’ my clothes mouldy,” said William, with -equal indignation. “<i>My</i> clothes mouldy.”</p> - -<p>“She lives here,” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>From the shelter of a hedge they watched the house.</p> - -<p>“You’d better go an’ gettem then,” said William -unfeelingly.</p> - -<p>“<i>How?</i>” said Ginger.</p> - -<p>“Well, you sold ’em.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>didn’t</i> sell ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Sh! Look!”</p> - -<p>The door of the Johnson’s home was opening. A -small boy came out.</p> - -<p>“He’s dressed in my clothes,” said William excitedly. -“<i>Gettem</i>—<i>Gettim</i>—my clothes.” His eye brightened, -and into his face came a radiant look as of one beholding -some dear friend after a long absence. “My -clothes.”</p> - -<p>Ginger advanced to the small boy and smiled his -anxious, fatuous, mirthless smile.</p> - -<p>“Like to come an’ play with me?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yeth, pleath,” said the boy, returning the friendly -smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, you can come with me,” said Ginger, ingratiatingly.</p> - -<p>He followed Ginger through the stile, and gave a -shout of derision when he saw William crouching -behind the hedge. “Oh! <i>Look</i> at ’im,” he said, -“dressed up funny.”</p> - -<p>A masterly plan had come into William’s head. He -led the party to the next field, to the disused barn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> -which, in their normal happy life that now seemed -to him so far away, served as castle or pirate ship.</p> - -<p>“Now,” he said, “we’re goin’ to play at soldiers, -an’ you come an’ say you wanter join the army——”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t,” said the small boy solemnly. “That -would be a thtory.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” said William patiently. “You must -pretend you want to join the army. Then you must -take off your clothes and leave ’em with me, and this -boy will pretend to be the doctor, an’ he’ll tell you -if you’re strong enough, you know; he’ll look at your -lungs and things and then—and then—well, that’s -all. Now I’ll give you the half-crown jus’ for a -present if you play it prop’ly.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the boy brightly, beginning to -take off his coat.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got bad lungs, an’ a bad heart, an’ bad -legs, an’ bad arms, an’ bad ears, an’ a bad head,” -said the doctor, “an’ I’m <i>afraid</i> you can’t be a soldier.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the boy brightly. “Don’ wanter -be. Now I’ll put on my clothes.”</p> - -<p>He came out to the back of the barn, where he had -left his clothes, and burst into a howl.</p> - -<p>“Oo—oo—oo—’e’s tooken my clothes—tooken my -clothes—’e’s tooken my clothes. Ma! <i>Ma!</i> <i>Ma!</i> -’E’s tooken my clothes.”</p> - -<p>His shirt fluttering in the wind, he went howling -down the road.</p> - -<p>Ginger went to the ditch whence William’s gesticulating -arms could be seen.</p> - -<p>“Quick! William, quick!” gasped Ginger.</p> - -<p>William arose, holding his Ancient Briton costume -in his hand. He was clothed in a tweed suit—a very, -very small tweed suit—the waistcoat would not button<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> -across him and the sleeve came only a little way -below his elbow.</p> - -<p>“William!” gasped Ginger. “It’s not yours.”</p> - -<p>William’s face was pale with horror.</p> - -<p>“It looked like mine,” he said in a sepulchral voice, -“but it’s not mine.”</p> - -<p>A babel of voices arose.</p> - -<p>“Where are they, lovey?”</p> - -<p>“Boo—hoo—they’ve tooken my clothes.”</p> - -<p>“Wait till I gettem, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, darlin’. Ma’ll learn ’em.”</p> - -<p>With grim despair they saw what seemed to them -an army of women running up the hill, and with them -a howling boy in a fluttering shirt. One of the women -carried a broom.</p> - -<p>“<i>Run</i>, William!” gasped Ginger.</p> - -<p>William flung his skin into the ditch and ran. -Though his suit was so tight that he could only progress -in little leaps and bounds, he progressed with -remarkable speed.</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>At last, exhausted and breathless, he walked round -to the side entrance of his home and stood in the hall. -He could hear his mother’s voice from the drawing -room.</p> - -<p>“Miss Carter’s been ringing up all the afternoon,” -she was saying, “she seems to think that William took -away one of the costumes after the rehearsal. I told -her that I was sure William wouldn’t do such a -thing.”</p> - -<p>“My dear,” in his father’s voice, “you do make the -most rash statements.”</p> - -<p>William entered slowly. His father and mother and -sister turned and stared at him in silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span></p> - -<p>“William!” gasped his mother. “What <i>are</i> you -wearing?”</p> - -<p>William made a desperate effort to carry off the -situation.</p> - -<p>“You know—everyone says how fast I’m growin’—I -keep growin’ out of my things——”</p> - -<p>“Mother!” screamed Ethel, from the window, -“there’s a lot of awful women coming through the -gate and an awful little boy in a shirt!”</p> - -<p class="gtb">*****</p> - -<p>William was brushed and combed and dressed in his -best suit. His week-day suit had been, with great -trouble and at great expense, brought back from Mrs. -Johnson, and taken from the person of her eldest son, -and was now being disinfected from any possible germ -which might have infested the person of her eldest son.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Johnson and her indignant younger son had -been, with great difficulty and also at great expense, -soothed and appeased.</p> - -<p>William had eaten the bread and water considered, -in the circumstances, a suitable meal for the prodigal -son, with that inward fury, but with that outward -appearance of intense enjoyment that he always fondly -imagined made his family feel foolish.</p> - -<p>He was not to leave the garden again that day. He -was to go to bed an hour before his usual time, but -that left him now half an hour to dispose of in the -garden. Through the window William could see his -father reclining in a deck-chair and reading the evening -paper. William considered that his father had that -evening shown himself conspicuously lacking in tact -and sympathy and generosity, but William did not -bear malice, and he knew that such qualities are not -to be expected in grown-ups. Moreover, his father<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> -was the only human being within sight, and William -felt disinclined for active pursuits. He went out to -his father and sat down on the grass in front of him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, about that man wot had his legs bit off by a -shark, father, wot I promised to tell you about—well, it -begins when he starts out in the Ship of Mystery——”</p> - -<p>William’s father tried to continue to read his paper. -Finding it impossible, he folded it up.</p> - -<p>“One minute, William, how long is there before you -go to bed?”</p> - -<p>“Only about half an hour,” said William reproachfully. -“But I can tell you quite a lot in that time, -an’ I can go on to-morrow if I don’t finish it. You’ll -<i>like</i> it—Ginger’n me liked it awfully. Well, he starts -off in the Ship of Mystery, an’ why it’s called the Ship -of Mystery is because every night there’s ghostly -moanin’s an’ rattlin’s of chains, an’ one day the man -wot the tale’s about went down to get something he’d -forgot in the middle of the night, an’ he saw a norful -figure dressed in a long black cloak, with gleamin’ -eyes, and jus’ as he was runnin’ away it put out a -norful skinny hand, an’ said in a norful voice——”</p> - -<p>William’s father looked wildly round for escape, and -saw none.</p> - -<p>Nemesis had overtaken him. With a groan he gave -himself up for lost, and William, already thrilled to -his very soul by his story, the memories of his exciting -day already dim, pursued his ruthless recital.</p> - - -<p class="c p2">THE END</p> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="c">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.</p> - -<p>Punctuation has been retained as published.</p> - -<p>The cover was created by the transcriber using elements from the original publication and placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM—THE FOURTH ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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