Just William

  Produced by David Clarke, and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  JUST--WILLIAM

  WILLIAM, CLASPING AN EMPTY ACID DROP BOTTLE TO HIS BOSOM,WAS LEFT TO FACE MR. MOSS. (_See page 202_).]

  JUST--WILLIAM

  BY RICHMAL CROMPTON

 

  ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS HENRY

  LONDON GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND, W.C.

  _First Edition_ _May, 1922._ _Second Impression_ _October, 1922._ _Third Impression_ _January, 1923._ _Fourth Impression_ _February, 1923._ _Fifth Impression_ _May, 1923._ _Sixth Impression_ _September, 1923._ _Seventh Impression_ _December, 1923._ _Eighth Impression_ _February, 1924._ _Ninth Impression_ _May, 1924._

  _Made and Printed in Great Britain._ _Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London, Reading and Fakenham._

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. WILLIAM GOES TO THE PICTURES 13

  II. WILLIAM THE INTRUDER 33

  III. WILLIAM BELOW STAIRS 57

  IV. THE FALL OF THE IDOL 75

  V. THE SHOW 94

  VI. A QUESTION OF GRAMMAR 117

  VII. WILLIAM JOINS THE BAND OF HOPE 132

  VIII. THE OUTLAWS 150

  IX. WILLIAM AND WHITE SATIN 168

  X. WILLIAM'S NEW YEAR'S DAY 186

  XI. THE BEST LAID PLANS 205

  XII. "JUMBLE" 228

  CHAPTER I

  WILLIAM GOES TO THE PICTURES

  It all began with William's aunt, who was in a good temper that morning,and gave him a shilling for posting a letter for her and carrying herparcels from the grocer's.

  "Buy some sweets or go to the Pictures," she said carelessly, as shegave it to him.

  William walked slowly down the road, gazing thoughtfully at the coin.After deep calculations, based on the fact that a shilling is theequivalent of two sixpences, he came to the conclusion that bothluxuries could be indulged in.

  In the matter of sweets, William frankly upheld the superiority ofquantity over quality. Moreover, he knew every sweet shop within a twomiles radius of his home whose proprietor added an extra sweet after thescale had descended, and he patronised these shops exclusively. Withsolemn face and eager eye, he always watched the process of weighing,and "stingy" shops were known and banned by him.

  He wandered now to his favourite confectioner and stood outside thewindow for five minutes, torn between the rival attractions ofGooseberry Eyes and Marble Balls. Both were sold at 4 ounces for 2d.William never purchased more expensive luxuries. At last his frowningbrow relaxed and he entered the shop.

  "Sixpennoth of Gooseberry Eyes," he said, with a slightly self-consciousair. The extent of his purchases rarely exceeded a penny.

  "Hello!" said the shopkeeper, in amused surprise.

  "Gotter bit of money this mornin'," explained William carelessly, withthe air of a Rothschild.

  He watched the weighing of the emerald green dainties with silentintensity, saw with satisfaction the extra one added after the scale hadfallen, received the precious paper bag, and, putting two sweets intohis mouth, walked out of the shop.

  Sucking slowly, he walked down the road towards the Picture Palace.William was not in the habit of frequenting Picture Palaces. He had onlybeen there once before in his life.

  It was a thrilling programme. First came the story of desperate crookswho, on coming out of any building, glanced cautiously up and down thestreet in huddled, crouching attitudes, then crept ostentatiously ontheir way in a manner guaranteed to attract attention and suspicion atany place and time. The plot was involved. They were pursued by police,they leapt on to a moving train and then, for no accountable reason,leapt from that on to a moving motor-car and from that they plunged intoa moving river. It was thrilling and William thrilled. Sitting quitemotionless, he watched, with wide, fascinated eyes, though his jawsnever ceased their rotatory movement and every now and then his handwould go mechanically to the paper bag on his knees and convey aGooseberry Eye to his mouth.

  The next play was a simple country love-story, in which figured a simplecountry maiden wooed by the squire, who was marked out as the villain byhis moustachios.

  After many adventures the simple country maiden was won by a simplecountry son of the soil in picturesque rustic attire, whose emotionswere faithfully portrayed by gestures that must have required muchgymnastic skill; the villain was finally shown languishing in a prisoncell, still indulging in frequent eye-brow play.

  Next came another love-story--this time of a noble-hearted couple,consumed with mutual passion and kept apart not only by a series ofmisunderstandings possible only in a picture play, but also by maidenlypride and reserve on the part of the heroine and manly pride and reserveon the part of the hero that forced them to hide their ardour beneath acold and haughty exterior. The heroine's brother moved through the storylike a good fairy, tender and protective towards his orphan sister andultimately explained to each the burning passion of the other.

  It was moving and touching and William was moved and touched.

  The next was a comedy. It began by a solitary workman engaged upon there-painting of a door and ended with a miscellaneous crowd of people,all covered with paint, falling downstairs on top of one another. It wasamusing. William was riotously and loudly amused.

  Lastly came the pathetic story of a drunkard's downward path. He beganas a wild young man in evening clothes drinking intoxicants and playingcards, he ended as a wild old man in rags still drinking intoxicants andplaying cards. He had a small child with a pious and superiorexpression, who spent her time weeping over him and exhorting him to abetter life, till, in a moment of justifiable exasperation, he threw abeer bottle at her head. He then bedewed her bed in Hospital withpenitent tears, tore out his hair, flung up his arms towards Heaven,beat his waistcoat, and clasped her to his breast, so that it was not tobe wondered at that, after all that excitement, the child had a relapseand with the words "Good-bye, Father. Do not think of what you havedone. I forgive you," passed peacefully away.

  William drew a deep breath at the end, and still sucking, arose with thethrong and passed out.

  Once outside, he glanced cautiously around and slunk down the road inthe direction of his home. Then he doubled suddenly and ran down a backstreet to put his imaginary pursuers off his track. He took a pencilfrom his pocket and, levelling it at the empty air, fired twice. Two ofhis pursuers fell dead, the rest came on with redoubled vigour. Therewas no time to be lost. Running for dear life, he dashed down the nextstreet, leaving in his wake an elderly gentleman nursing his toe andcursing volubly. As he neared his gate, William again drew the pencilfrom his pocket and, still looking back down the road, and firing as hewent, he rushed into his own gateway.

  LOOKING BACK DOWN THE ROAD AND FIRING HIS PENCIL WILDLY,WILLIAM DASHED INTO HIS OWN GATE.]

  William's father, who had stayed at home that day because of a badheadache and a touch of liver, picked himself up from the middle of arhododendron bush and seized William by the back of his neck.

  "You young ruffian," he roared, "what do you mean by charging into melike that?"

  William gently disengaged himself.

  "I wasn't chargin', Father," he said, meekly. "I was only jus' comin' inat the gate, same as other folks. I jus' wasn't looking jus' the way you
were coming, but I can't look all ways at once, cause----"

  "Be _quiet_!" roared William's father.

  Like the rest of the family, he dreaded William's eloquence.

  "What's that on your tongue! Put your tongue out."

  William obeyed. The colour of William's tongue would have put to shameSpring's freshest tints.

  "How many times am I to tell you," bellowed William's father, "that Iwon't have you going about eating filthy poisons all day between meals?"

  "It's not filthy poison," said William. "It's jus' a few sweets AuntSusan gave me 'cause I kin'ly went to the post office for her an'----"

  "Be _quiet_! Have you got any more of the foul things?"

  "They're not foul things," said William, doggedly. "They're good. Jus'have one, an' try. They're jus' a few sweets Aunt Susan kin'ly gave mean'----"

  "Be _quiet_! Where are they?"

  Slowly and reluctantly William drew forth his bag. His father seized itand flung it far into the bushes. For the next ten minutes Williamconducted a thorough and systematic search among the bushes and for therest of the day consumed Gooseberry Eyes and garden soil in fairly equalproportions.

  He wandered round to the back garden and climbed on to the wall.

  "Hello!" said the little girl next door, looking up.

  Something about the little girl's head and curls reminded William of thesimple country maiden. There was a touch of the artistic temperamentabout William. He promptly felt himself the simple country son of thesoil.

  "Hullo, Joan," he said in a deep, husky voice intended to be expressiveof intense affection. "Have you missed me while I've been away?"

  "Didn't know you'd been away," said Joan. "What are you talking so funnyfor?"

  "I'm not talkin' funny," said William in the same husky voice, "I can'thelp talkin' like this."

  "You've got a cold. That's what you've got. That's what Mother said whenshe saw you splashing about with your rain tub this morning. She said,'The next thing that we shall hear of William Brown will be he's in bedwith a cold.'"

  "It's not a cold," said William mysteriously. "It's jus' the way Ifeel."

  "What are you eating?"

  "Gooseberry Eyes. Like one?" He took the packet from his pocket andhanded it down to her. "Go on. Take two--three," he said in recklessgenerosity.

  "But they're--dirty."

  "Go on. It's only ord'nery dirt. It soon sucks off. They're jolly good."He poured a shower of them lavishly down to her.

  "I say," he said, reverting to his character of simple country lover."Did you say you'd missed me? I bet you didn't think of me as much as Idid of you. I jus' bet you didn't." His voice had sunk deeper and deepertill it almost died away.

  "I say, William, does your throat hurt you awful, that you've got totalk like that?"

  Her blue eyes were anxious and sympathetic.

  William put one hand to his throat and frowned.

  "A bit," he confessed lightly.

  "Oh, William!" she clasped her hands. "Does it hurt all the time?"

  Her solicitude was flattering.

  "I don't talk much about it, anyway, do I?" he said manfully.

  She started up and stared at him with big blue eyes.

  "Oh, William! Is it--is it your--lungs? I've got an aunt that's gotlungs and she coughs and coughs," William coughed hastily, "and it hurtsher and makes her awful bad. Oh, William, I do _hope_ you've not gotlungs."

  Her tender, anxious little face was upturned to him. "I guess I have gotlungs," he said, "but I don't make a fuss about 'em."

  He coughed again.

  "What does the doctor say about it?"

  William considered a minute.

  "He says it's lungs all right," he said at last. "He says I gotter bejolly careful."

  "William, would you like my new paintbox?"

  "I don't think so. Not now. Thanks."

  "I've got three balls and one's quite new. Wouldn't you like it,William?"

  "No--thanks. You see, it's no use my collectin' a lot of things. Younever know--with lungs."

  "Oh, _William_!"

  Her distress was pathetic.

  "Of course," he said hastily, "if I'm careful it'll be all right. Don'tyou worry about me."

  "Joan!" from the house.

  "That's Mother. Good-bye, William dear. If Father brings me home anychocolate, I'll bring it in to you. I will--honest. Thanks for theGooseberry Eyes. Good-bye."

  "Good-bye--and don't worry about me," he added bravely.

  He put another Gooseberry Eye into his mouth and wandered roundaimlessly to the front of the house. His grown-up sister, Ethel, was atthe front door, shaking hands with a young man.

  "I'll do all I can for you," she was saying earnestly.

  Their hands were clasped.

  "I know you will," he said equally earnestly.

  Both look and handclasp were long. The young man walked away. Ethelstood 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'reengaged, but he knew they weren't engaged. P'raps they were too proud tolet each other know how fond they were of each other--like the man andgirl at the pictures. Ethel wanted a brother like the one in thepictures to let the man know she was fond of him. Then a light camesuddenly into William's mind and he stood, deep in thought.

  Inside the drawing-room, Ethel was talking to her mother.

  "He's going to propose to her next Sunday. He told me about it becauseI'm her best friend, and he wanted to ask me if I thought he'd anychance. I said I thought he had, and I said I'd try and prepare her alittle and put in a good word for him if I could. Isn't it thrilling?"

  "Yes, dear. By the way, did you see William anywhere? I do hope he's notin mischief."

  "He was in the front garden a minute ago." She went to the window. "He'snot there now, though."

  William had just arrived at Mr. Morgan's house.

  The maid showed him into Mr. Morgan's sitting-room.

  "Mr. Brown," she announced.

  The young man rose to receive his guest with politeness not unmixed withbewilderment. His acquaintance with William was of the slightest.

  "Good afternoon," said William. "I've come from Ethel."

  "Yes?"

  "Yes." William fumbled in his pocket and at last drew forth a rosebud,slightly crushed by its close confinement in the company of theGooseberry Eyes, a penknife, a top and a piece of putty.

  "She sent you this," said William gravely.

  Mr. Morgan gazed at it with the air of one who is sleep-walking.

  "SHE SENT YOU THIS!" WILLIAM SAID GRAVELY.]

  "Yes? Er--very kind of her."

  "Kinder keep-sake. Souveneer," explained William.

  "Yes. Er--any message?"

  "Oh, yes. She wants you to come in and see her this evening."

  "Er--yes. Of course. I've just come from her. Perhaps she rememberedsomething she wanted to tell me after I'd gone."

  "P'raps."

  Then, "Any particular time?"

  "No. 'Bout seven, I expect."

  "Oh, yes."

  Mr. Morgan's eyes were fixed with a fascinated wondering gaze upon thelimp, and by no means spotless, rose-bud.

  "You say she--sent this?"

  "Yes."

  "And no other message?"

  "No."

  "Er--well, say I'll come with pleasure, will you?"

  "Yes."

  Silence.

  Then, "She thinks an awful lot of you, Ethel does."

  Mr. Morgan passed a hand over his brow.

  "Yes? Kind--er--very kind, I'm sure."

  "Always talkin' about you in her sleep," went on William, warming to histheme. "I sleep in the next room and I can hear her talkin' about youall night. Jus' sayin' your
name over and over again. 'Jack Morgan, JackMorgan, Jack Morgan.'" William's voice was husky and soulful. "Jus'like that--over an' over again. 'Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, JackMorgan.'"

  Mr. Morgan was speechless. He sat gazing with horror-stricken face athis young visitor.

  "Are you--_sure_?" he said at last. "It might be someone else's name."

  "No, 'tisn't," said William firmly. "It's yours. 'Jack Morgan, JackMorgan, Jack Morgan'--jus' like that. An' she eats just nothin' now.Always hangin' round the windows to watch you pass."

  The perspiration stood out in beads on Mr. Morgan's brow.

  "It's--_horrible_," he said at last in a hoarse whisper.

  William was gratified. The young man had at last realised his cruelty.But William never liked to leave a task half done. He still sat on andcalmly and silently considered his next statement. Mechanically he put ahand into his pocket and conveyed a Gooseberry Eye to his mouth. Mr.Morgan also sat in silence with a stricken look upon his face, gazinginto vacancy.

  "She's got your photo," said William at last, "fixed up into one ofthose little round things on a chain round her neck."

  "Are--you--_sure_?" said Mr. Morgan desperately.

  "Sure's fate," said William rising. "Well, I'd better be goin'. Shepertic-ler wants to see you alone to-night. Good-bye."

  But Mr. Morgan did not answer. He sat huddled up in his chair staring infront of him long after William had gone jauntily on his way. Then hemoistened his dry lips.

  "Good Lord," he groaned.

  William was thinking of the pictures as he went home. That painter onewas jolly good. When they all got all over paint! And when they all felldownstairs! William suddenly guffawed out loud at the memory. But whathad the painter chap been doing at the very beginning before he began topaint? He'd been getting off the old paint with a sort of torch thingand a knife, then he began putting the new paint on. Just sort ofmelting the old paint and then scraping it off. William had never seenit done in real life, but he supposed that was the way you did get oldpaint off. Melting it with some sort of fire, then scraping it off. Hewasn't sure whether it was that, but he could find out. As he enteredthe house he took his penknife from his pocket, opened it thoughtfully,and went upstairs.

  Mr. Brown came home about dinner-time.

  "How's your head, father?" said Ethel sympathetically.

  "Rotten!" said Mr. Brown, sinking wearily into an arm-chair.

  "Perhaps dinner will do it good," said Mrs. Brown, "it ought to be readynow."

  The housemaid entered the room.

  "Mr. Morgan, mum. He wants to see Miss Ethel. I've shown him into thelibrary."

  "_Now?_" exploded Mr. Brown. "What the deu--why the dickens is the youngidiot coming at this time of day? Seven o'clock! What time does he thinkwe have dinner? What does he mean by coming round paying calls on peopleat dinner time? What----"

  "Ethel, dear," interrupted Mrs. Brown, "do go and see what he wants andget rid of him as soon as you can."

  Ethel entered the library, carefully closing the door behind her to keepout the sound of her father's comments, which were plainly audibleacross the hall.

  She noticed something wan and haggard-looking on Mr. Morgan's face as herose to greet her.

  "Er--good evening, Miss Brown."

  "Good evening, Mr. Morgan."

  Then they sat in silence, both awaiting some explanation of the visit.The silence became oppressive. Mr. Morgan, with an air of acute miseryand embarrassment, shifted his feet and coughed. Ethel looked at theclock. Then--

  "Was it raining when you came, Mr. Morgan?"

  "Raining? Er--no. No--not at all."

  Silence.

  "I thought it looked like rain this afternoon."

  "Yes, of course. Er--no, not at all."

  Silence.

  "It does make the roads so bad round here when it rains."

  "Yes." Mr. Morgan put up a hand as though to loosen his collar."Er--very bad."

  "Almost impassable."

  "Er--quite."

  Silence again.

  Inside the drawing-room, Mr. Brown was growing restive.

  "Is dinner to be kept waiting for that youth all night? Quarter pastseven! You know it's just what I can't stand--having my meals interferedwith. Is my digestion to be ruined simply because this young nincompoopchooses to pay his social calls at seven o'clock at night?"

  "Then we must ask him to dinner," said Mrs. Brown, desperately. "Wereally must."

  "We must _not_," said Mr. Brown. "Can't I stay away from the office forone day with a headache, without having to entertain all the youngjackasses for miles around." The telephone bell rang. He raised hishands above his head.

  "Oh----"

  "I'll go, dear," said Mrs. Brown hastily.

  She returned with a worried frown on her brow.

  "It's Mrs. Clive," she said. "She says Joan has been very sick becauseof some horrible sweets William gave her, and she said she was so sorryto hear about William and hoped he'd be better soon. I couldn't quitemake it out, but it seems that William has been telling them that he hadto go and see a doctor about his lungs and the doctor said they werevery weak and he'd have to be careful."

  Mr. Brown sat up and looked at her. "But--why--on--earth?" he saidslowly.

  "I don't know, dear," said Mrs. Brown, helplessly. "I don't knowanything about it."

  "He's mad," said Mr. Brown with conviction. "Mad. It's the onlyexplanation."

  Then came the opening and shutting of the front door and Ethel entered.She was very flushed.

  WILLIAM WAS HAPPILY AND QUIETLY ENGAGED IN BURNING THEPAINT OFF HIS BEDROOM DOOR.]

  "He's gone," she said. "Mother, it's simply horrible! He didn't tell memuch, but it seems that William actually went to his house and told himthat I wanted to see him alone at seven o'clock this evening. I'vehardly spoken to William to-day. He couldn't have misunderstood anythingI said. And he actually took a flower with him--a dreadful-lookingrosebud--and said I'd sent it. I simply didn't know where to look orwhat to say. It was horrible!"

  Mrs. Brown sat gazing weakly at her daughter.

  Mr. Brown rose with the air of a man goaded beyond endurance.

  "Where _is_ William?" he said shortly.

  "I don't know, but I thought I heard him go upstairs some time ago."

  William _was_ upstairs. For the last twenty minutes he had been happilyand quietly engaged upon his bedroom door with a lighted taper in onehand and penknife in the other. There was no doubt about it. Bysuccessful experiment he had proved that that was the way you got oldpaint off. When Mr. Brown came upstairs he had entirely stripped onepanel of its paint.

  * * * * *

  An hour later William sat in the back garden on an upturned box sucking,with a certain dogged defiance, the last and dirtiest of the GooseberryEyes. Sadly he reviewed the day. It had not been a success. Hisgenerosity to the little girl next door had been misconstrued into anattempt upon her life, his efforts to help on his only sister's loveaffair had been painfully misunderstood, lastly because (among otherthings) he had discovered a perfectly scientific method of removing oldpaint, he had been brutally assaulted by a violent and unreasonableparent. Suddenly William began to wonder if his father drank. He sawhimself, through a mist of pathos, as a Drunkard's child. He tried toimagine his father weeping over him in Hospital and begging hisforgiveness. It was a wonder he wasn't there now, anyway. His shouldersdrooped--his whole attitude became expressive of extreme dejection.

  Inside the house, his father, reclining at length in an armchair,discoursed to his wife on the subject of his son. One hand was pressedto his aching brow, and the other gesticulating freely. "He's insane,"he said, "stark, raving insane. You ought to take him to a doctor andget his brain examined. Look at him to-day. He begins by knocking meinto the middle of the rhododendron bushes--under no provocation, mindyou. I hadn't spoken to him. Then he tries to poison that nice littlething next door with some vile stuff I thought I'd thrown away. T
hen hegoes about telling people he's consumptive. He looks it, doesn't he?Then he takes extraordinary messages and love tokens from Ethel tostrange young men and brings them here just when we're going to begindinner, and then goes round burning and hacking at the doors. Where'sthe sense in it--in any of it? They're the acts of a lunatic--you oughtto have his brain examined."

  Mrs. Brown cut off her darning wool and laid aside the sock she had justfinished darning.

  "It certainly sounds very silly, dear," she said mildly. "But theremight be some explanation of it all, if only we knew. Boys are suchfunny things."

  She looked at the clock and went over to the window, "William!" shecalled. "It's your bed-time, dear."

  William rose sadly and came slowly into the house.

  "Good night, Mother," he said; then he turned a mournful and reproachfuleye upon his father.

  "Good night, Father," he said. "Don't think about what you've done, Ifor----"

  He stopped and decided, hastily but wisely, to retire with all possiblespeed.