Just William Part 10

"You," said William graciously, "shall have a whole lot of nuggets. Look here." With a princely flourish he took up a knife and cut off three b.u.t.tons from the middle of his coat and gave them to her. "You keep those and they'll be kind of tokens. See? When I come home rich you show me the b.u.t.tons an' I'll remember and give you the nuggets. See? I'll maybe marry you," he promised, "if I've not married anyone else."

The kitchenmaid put her head round the pantry door.

"'E's loony," she said. "It's lovely listening to 'im talkin.'"

Further conversation was prevented by the ringing of the front-door bell and the arrival of the "company."

Mr. Biggs and the housemaid departed to do the honours. The kitchenmaid ran to help with the dis.h.i.+ng up, and William was left sitting on the pantry table, idly making patterns in knife powder with his finger.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I'M A GOLD DIGGER," SAID WILLIAM. "I'VE GOT s.h.i.+PLOADS AN' s.h.i.+PLOADS OF GOLD. AT LEAST, I WILL HAVE SOON."]

"Wot was 'e doin'?" said the cook to the kitchenmaid.

"Nothin'--'cept talkin'," said the kitchenmaid. "'E's a cure, _'e_ is,"

she added.

"If you've finished the knives," called out the cook, "there's some boots and shoes on the floor to be done. Brushes an' blacking on the shelf."

William arose with alacrity. He thought boots would be more interesting than knives. He carefully concealed the pile of uncleaned knives behind the knife-box and began on the shoes.

The butler returned.

"Soup ready?" he said. "The company's just goin' into the dining-room--a pal of the master's. Decent-lookin' bloke," he added patronisingly.

William, in his pantry, had covered a brush very thickly with blacking, and was putting it in heavy layers on the boots and shoes. A large part of it adhered to his own hands. The butler looked in at him.

"Wot's 'appened to your b.u.t.tons?" he said sternly.

"Come off," said William.

"Bust off," corrected the butler. "I said so soon as I saw you. I said you'd 'ave eat your b.u.t.tons bust off in a week. Well, you've eat 'em bust off in ten minutes."

"Eatin' an' destroyin' of 'is clothes," he said gloomily, returning to the kitchen. "It's all boys ever do--eatin' an' destroyin' of their clothes."

He went out with the soup and William was left with the boots. He was getting tired of boots. He'd covered them all thickly with blacking, and he didn't know what to do next. Then suddenly he remembered his balloon in his pocket upstairs. It might serve to vary the monotony of life. He slipped quietly upstairs for it, and then returned to his boots.

Soon Mr. Biggs and the housemaid returned with the empty soup-plates.

Then through the kitchen resounded a high-pitched squeal, dying away slowly and shrilly.

The housemaid screamed.

"Lawks!" said the cook, "someone's atorchurin' of the poor cat to death.

It'll be that blessed boy."

The butler advanced manfully and opened the pantry door. William stood holding in one hand an inflated balloon with the cardboard head and legs of a duck.

The butler approached him.

"If you let off that there thing once more, you little varmint," he said, "I'll----"

Threateningly he had advanced his large expanse of countenance very close to William's. Acting upon a sudden uncontrollable impulse William took up the brush thickly smeared with blacking and pushed back Mr.

Biggs's face with it.

There was a moment's silence of sheer horror, then Mr. Biggs hurled himself furiously upon William....

In the dining-room sat the master and mistress of the house and their guest.

"Did the new Boots arrive?" said the master to his wife.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WILLIAM TOOK UP THE BRUSH, THICKLY SMEARED WITH BLACKING, AND PUSHED BACK MR. BIGGS'S FACE WITH IT.]

"Yes," she said.

"Any good?" he said.

"He doesn't seem to have impressed Biggs very favourably," she said, "but they never do."

"The human boy," said the guest, "is given us as a discipline. I possess one. Though he is my own son, I find it difficult to describe the atmosphere of peace and relief that pervades the house when he is out of it."

"I'd like to meet your son," said the host.

"You probably will, sooner or later," said the guest gloomily. "Everyone in the neighbourhood meets him sooner or later. He does not hide his light under a bushel. Personally, I prefer people who haven't met him.

They can't judge me by him."

At this moment the butler came in with a note.

"No answer," he said, and departed with his slow dignity.

"Excuse me," said the lady as she opened it, "it's from my sister. 'I hope,' she read, 'that you aren't inconvenienced much by the non-arrival of the Boots I engaged for you. He's got "flu."' But he's come," she said wonderingly.

There came the sound of an angry shout, a distant scream and the clattering of heavy running footsteps ... growing nearer....

"A revolution, I expect," said the guest wearily. "The Reds are upon us."

At that moment the door was burst open and in rushed a boy with a blacking brush in one hand and an inflated balloon in the other. He was much dishevelled, with three b.u.t.tons off the front of his uniform, and his face streaked with knife powder and blacking. Behind him ran a fat butler, his face purple with fury beneath a large smear of blacking. The boy rushed round the table, slipped on the polished floor, clutched desperately at the neck of the guest, bringing both guest and chair down upon the floor beside him. In a sudden silence of utter paralysed horror, guest and boy sat on the floor and stared at each other. Then the boy's nerveless hand relaxed its hold upon the balloon, which had somehow or other survived the vicissitudes of the flight, and a shrill squeak rang through the silence of the room.

The master and mistress of the house sat looking round in dazed astonishment.

As the guest looked at the boy there appeared on his countenance amazement, then incredulity, and finally frozen horror. As the boy looked at the guest there appeared on his countenance amazement, then incredulity and finally blank dejection.

"Good Lord!" said the guest, "it's _William_!"

"Oh, crumbs!" said the Boots, "it's _father_!"