Richmal Crompton

“ Just as Robert was taking up a plate of sandwiches to hand them with a courteous gesture to Miss Cannon, his eyes fell upon the long, white road leading from the village to the riverside and remained fixed there, his face frozen with horror. The hand that held the plate dropped lifelessly back again on to the table-cloth. Their eyes followed his. A curious figure was cycling along the road—a figure with blackened face and a few drooping feathers on its head, and a door-mat flying in the wind. A crowd of small children ran behind cheering. ”

“ Miss Cannon was certainly pretty. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and dimples that came and went in her rosy cheeks. She was dressed in white and carried a parasol. She walked up the drive, looking neither to right nor left, till a slight movement in the bushes arrested her attention. She turned quickly and saw a small boy’s face, smeared black with burnt cork and framed in hens’ feathers tied on with tape. The dimples peeped out.
“Hail, O great chief!” she said.
William gazed at her open-mouthed. Such intelligence on the part of a grown-up was unusual. ”

“ William laughed as though vastly amused by this idea.
“Smuts!” he said, giving a surreptitious kick to the chair that infuriated its occupant still more. “I guess there wouldn’t be many of us left in this house if Smuts was like this.”
They passed on to the giant.
“A giant,” said William, re-arranging the tinsel crown, which was slightly too big for him. “Real giant. Look at it. As big as two of you put together. How d’you think he gets in at doors and things? Has to have everything made special. Look at him walk. Walk, Ginger.” ”

“ William was bored. He sat at his desk in the sunny schoolroom and gazed dispassionately at a row of figures on the blackboard.
“It isn’t sense,” he murmured scornfully.
Miss Drew was also bored, but, unlike William, she tried to hide the fact.
“If the interest on a hundred pounds for one year is five pounds,” she said wearily, then, “William Brown, do sit up and don’t look so stupid!” ”

“ His life seemed to stretch before him—youth, manhood, and old age—dreary and desolate, filled only with humiliation and shame. His prestige and reputation would be blasted for ever. He would no longer be William—the Red Indian, the pirate, the daredevil. He would simply be the Boy Who Went to a Wedding Dressed in White Satin. Evidently there would be a surging crowd of small boys at the church door. Every boy for miles round who knew William even by sight had volunteered the information that he would be there. William was to ride with Dorita and Michael in the bride’s carriage. ”

“ Jumble came on. William walked through the village with a self-conscious air of proud yet careless ownership, while Jumble gambolled round his heels.
Every now and then he would turn his head and whistle imperiously, to recall his straying protégé from the investigation of ditches and roadside. It was a whistle, commanding, controlling, yet withal careless, that William had sometimes practised privately in readiness for the blissful day when Fate should present him with a real live dog of his own. So far Fate, in the persons of his father and mother, had been proof against all his pleading. ”

“ Ethel stood at the door, gazing after him, with a far-away look in her eyes. William was interested.
“That was Jack Morgan, wasn’t it?” he said.
“Yes,” said Ethel absently and went into the house.
The look, the long handclasp, the words lingered in William’s memory. They must be jolly fond of each other, like people are when they’re engaged, but he knew they weren’t engaged. P’raps they were too proud to let each other know how fond they were of each other—like the man and girl at the pictures. Ethel wanted a brother like the one in the pictures to let the man know she was fond of him. ”

“ Jumble ran to her with shrill barks of welcome, then ran back to William to reassure him of his undying loyalty.
“It is Jumble,” said the man. “He’s called Jumble,” he explained to William, “because he is a jumble. He’s all sorts of a dog, you know. This is Ninette, my daughter, and my name is Jarrow, and we’ve taken Lavender Cottage for two months. We’re roving vagabonds. We never stay anywhere longer than two months. So now you know all about us. Jumble seems to have adopted you. Ninette, my dear, you are completely ousted from Jumble’s heart. ”

“ Robert spoke with an air of super-human patience, “she’s a Miss Cannon and she’s staying with the Clives and I met her out with Mrs. Clive this morning and she introduced me and she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and she——”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Brown hastily, “you told me all that.”
“Well,” went on the infatuated Robert, “we must have her to tea. I know I can’t marry yet—not while I’m still at college—but I could get to know her. Not that I suppose she’d look at me. She’s miles above me—miles above anyone. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. You can’t imagine her. ”

“ At the look of concentrated fury on William’s face, older and stronger people than Mrs. de Vere Carter would have quailed, but she only smiled as, with another virulent glare at her, he turned on his heel and walked away. ”

“ Tell me what else you’d like?”
“Please, I haven’t any more money,” gasped a small, bewildered voice.
“Money don’t matter,” said William. “Things is cheap to-day. Things is awful cheap to-day. Awful cheap! You can have—anythin’ you like for that fourpence. Anythin’ you like.”
“’Cause it’s New Year’s Day?” said the vision, with a gleam of understanding.
“Yes,” said William, “’cause it’s that.”
“Is it your shop?”
“Yes,” said William with an air of importance. “It’s all my shop.” ”

“ He held the baby to his chest with both arms clasped tightly round its waist. Its feet dangled in the air. It occupied the time by kicking William in the stomach, pulling his hair, and putting its fingers in his eyes.
“It beats me,” panted William to himself, “what people see in babies! Scratchin’ an’ kickin’ and blindin’ folks and pullin’ their hair all out!”
When he entered the barn he was greeted by a sudden silence.
“Look here!” began one outlaw in righteous indignation.
“It’s a kidnap,” said William, triumphantly. “We’ll get a ransom on it.” ”

“ Miss Drew interrupted sharply. Teaching on a hot afternoon is rather trying.
“You’d better stay in after school, William, and I’ll explain.”
William scowled, emitted his monosyllable of scornful disdain “Huh!” and relapsed into gloom.
He brightened, however, on remembering a lizard he had caught on the way to school, and drew it from its hiding-place in his pocket. But the lizard had abandoned the unequal struggle for existence among the stones, top, penknife, bits of putty, and other small objects that inhabited William’s pocket. The housing problem had been too much for it. ”

“ William came to the end of the road. He did not turn aside to either of the roads by the riverside. He did not even recognise or look at them. With set, colourless face he rode on to the river bank, and straight amongst them. They fled from before his charge. He rode over the table-cloth, over the sandwiches, patties, rolls and cakes, down the bank and into the river.
They rescued him and the bicycle. Fate was against Robert even there. It was a passing boatman who performed the rescue. William emerged soaked to the skin, utterly exhausted, but feeling vaguely heroic. ”

“ For Chips the world was very black. Henry’s master mind had scorned his paint box and his water colours. Henry had “borrowed” a blue bag and dabbed it liberally over Chips. Chips had, after the first wild frenzied struggle, offered no resistance. He now sat, a picture of black despair, turning every now and then a melancholy eye upon the still enraged Smuts. But for him cats and joy and life and fighting were no more. He was abject, shamed—a blue dog.
William himself, as showman, was an imposing figure. ”

“ Miss Drew, entering her class-room, was aghast to see instead of the usual small array of buttonholes on her desk, a mass of already withering hothouse flowers completely covering her desk and chair.
William was a boy who never did things by halves. ”

“ She sprang up and, seizing him by the shoulders, shook him till his teeth chattered, the tinsel crown fell down, encircling ears and nose, and one of his moustaches fell limply at his feet.
“You wicked boy!” she said as she shook him, “you wicked, wicked, wicked boy!”
He escaped from her grasp and fled to the showroom, where, in sheer self-defence, he moved a table and three chairs across the door. The room was empty except for Henry, the blue dog, and the still sleeping Smuts. All that was left of the giant was the crumpled sheets. ”

“ Clive can’t come,” announced Mrs. Brown in her comfortable voice, “but Miss Cannon will come alone. It appears she’s met Ethel before. So you needn’t worry any more, dear.”
Robert gave a sardonic laugh.
“Worry!” he said, “There’s plenty to worry about still. What about William?”
“Well, what about him?”
“Well, can’t he go away somewhere to-morrow? Things never go right when William’s there. You know they don’t.”
“The poor boy must have tea with us, dear. He’ll be very good, I’m sure. Ethel will be home then and she’ll help. I’ll tell William not to worry you. I’m sure he’ll be good.” ”

“ William admitted gently, “I don’t generally take much bother over them, but I’m goin’ to now—’cause Miss Drew”—he blushed slightly and paused—“’cause Miss Drew”—he blushed more deeply and began to stammer, “’c—cause Miss Drew”—he was almost apoplectic.
Mr. Brown quietly gathered up his paper and crept out to the verandah, where his wife sat with the week’s mending.
“William’s gone raving mad in the dining-room,” he said pleasantly, as he sat down. “Takes the form of a wild thirst for knowledge, and a babbling of a Miss Drawing, or Drew, or something. He’s best left alone.” ”

“ William clung on behind, nothing loth, and they set off rather slowly down the road. Ethel was overcome with gratitude.
“It is kind of you, Mr. French. I don’t know what we should have done without you. I do hope he’s not fearfully heavy, and I do hope he’s not beginning anything infectious. Do let me take the other parcels. Won’t you, really? Mother will be grateful to you. It’s such a strange thing, isn’t it? I’ve never heard of such a thing before. I’ve always thought William was so strong. I hope it’s not consumption or anything like that. How does consumption begin?” ”

“ He sat with Dorita on the cold and perilous perch of the garden wall and discussed Cousin Sybil and the wedding. Dorita’s language delighted and fascinated William.
“She’s a soppy old luny,” she would remark sweetly, shaking her dark curls. “The soppiest old luny you’d see in any old place on this old earth, you betcher life! She’s made of sop. I wouldn’t be found dead in a ditch with her—wouldn’t touch her with the butt-end of a bargepole. She’s an assified cow, she is. ”

“ The enemy was shutting the small window of the coal-cellar, and there William imprisoned her, turning the key with a loud yell of triumph.
The party then proceeded.
It fulfilled the expectations of the guests that it was to be a party unlike any other party. At other parties they played “Hide and Seek”—with smiling but firm mothers and aunts and sisters stationed at intervals with damping effects upon one’s spirits, with “not in the bedrooms, dear,” and “mind the umbrella stand,” and “certainly not in the drawing-room,” and “don’t shout so loud, darling.” ”

“ A SHOWER OF ONIONS, THE HAM BONE, AND A FEW POTATOES PURSUED HER INTO THE ROAD.
A shower of onions, the ham bone, and a few potatoes pursued her into [131] the road. Shouts of triumph rent the air. Then the shouts of triumph died away abruptly. William’s smile also faded away, and his hand, in the act of flinging an onion, dropped. A cab was turning in at the front gate. In the sudden silence that fell upon the party, cook’s hoarse cries for vengeance rose with redoubled force from the coal cellar. William grew pale. ”

“ WILLIAM’S NEW YEAR’S DAY
William went whistling down the street, his hands in his pockets. William’s whistle was more penetrating than melodious. Sensitive people fled shuddering at the sound. The proprietor of the sweet-shop, however, was not sensitive. He nodded affably as William passed. William was a regular customer of his—as regular, that is, as a wholly inadequate allowance would permit. Encouraged William paused at the doorway and ceased to whistle.
“’Ullo, Mr. Moss!” he said.
“’Ullo, William!” said Mr. Moss. ”