Just William

by Richmal Crompton

  CHAPTER II

  WILLIAM THE INTRUDER

  "She's different from everybody else in the world," stammered Robertecstatically. "You simply couldn't describe her. No one could!"

  His mother continued to darn his socks and made no comment.

  Only William, his young brother, showed interest.

  "_How's_ she different from anyone else?" he demanded. "Is she blind orlame or sumthin'?"

  Robert turned on him with exasperation.

  "Oh, go and play at trains!" he said. "A child like you can't understandanything."

  William retired with dignity to the window and listened, with interestunabated, to the rest of the conversation.

  "Yes, but who is she, dear?" said their mother. "Robert, I can't _think_how you get these big holes in your heels!"

  Robert ran his hands wildly through his hair.

  "I've _told_ you who she is, Mother," he said. "I've been talking abouther ever since I came into the room."

  "Yes, I know, dear, but you haven't mentioned her name or anything abouther."

  "Well," Robert spoke with an air of super-human patience, "she's a MissCannon 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 beautifulgirl 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 knowI can't marry yet--not while I'm still at college--but I could get toknow her. Not that I suppose she'd look at me. She's miles aboveme--miles above anyone. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.You can't imagine her. You wouldn't believe me if I described her. Noone could describe her. She----"

  Mrs. Brown interrupted him with haste.

  "I'll ask Mrs. Clive to bring her over one afternoon. I've no more ofthis blue wool, Robert. I wish you didn't have your socks such differentcolours. I shall have to use mauve. It's right on the heel; it won'tshow."

  Robert gave a gasp of horror.

  "You _can't_, Mother. How do you know it won't show? And even if itdidn't show, the thought of it--! It's--it's a crisis of my life nowI've met her. I can't go about feeling ridiculous."

  "I say," said William open-mouthed. "Are you spoony on her?"

  "William, don't use such vulgar expressions," said Mrs. Brown. "Robertjust feels a friendly interest in her, don't you, Robert?"

  "'A friendly interest'!" groaned Robert in despair. "No one ever _tries_to understand what I feel. After all I've told you about her and thatshe's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and miles above me andabove anyone and you think I feel a 'friendly interest' in her.It's--it's the one great passion of my life! It's----"

  "Well," put in Mrs. Brown mildly, "I'll ring up Mrs. Clive and ask ifshe's doing anything to-morrow afternoon."

  Robert's tragic young face lit up, then he stood wrapt in thought, and acloud of anxiety overcast it.

  "Ellen can press the trousers of my brown suit to-night, can't she? And,Mother, could you get me some socks and a tie before to-morrow? Blue, Ithink--a bright blue, you know, not too bright, but not so as you don'tnotice them. I wish the laundry was a decent one. You know, a man'scollar ought to _shine_ when it's new on. They never put a shine on tothem. I'd better have some new ones for to-morrow. It's so important,how one looks. She--people _judge_ you on how you look. They----"

  Mrs. Brown laid her work aside.

  "I'll go and ring up Mrs. Clive now," she said.

  When she returned, William had gone and Robert was standing by thewindow, his face pale with suspense, and a Napoleonic frown on his brow.

  "Mrs. Clive can't come," announced Mrs. Brown in her comfortable voice,"but Miss Cannon will come alone. It appears she's met Ethel before. Soyou needn't worry any more, dear."

  Robert gave a sardonic laugh.

  "_Worry!_" he said, "There's plenty to worry about still. What aboutWilliam?"

  "Well, what about him?"

  "Well, can't he go away somewhere to-morrow? Things never go right whenWilliam'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 worryyou. I'm sure he'll be good."

  * * * * *

  William had received specific instructions. He was not to come into thehouse till the tea-bell rang, and he was to go out and play in thegarden again directly after tea. He was perfectly willing to obey them.He was thrilled by the thought of Robert in the role of the love-lornhero. He took the situation quite seriously.

  He was in the garden when the visitor came up the drive. He had beentold not to obtrude himself upon her notice, so he crept up silently andpeered at her through the rhododendron bushes. The proceeding alsohappened to suit his character of the moment, which was that of a RedIndian chief.

  Miss Cannon was certainly pretty. She had brown hair, brown eyes, anddimples that came and went in her rosy cheeks. She was dressed in whiteand carried a parasol. She walked up the drive, looking neither to rightnor left, till a slight movement in the bushes arrested her attention.She turned quickly and saw a small boy's face, smeared black with burntcork and framed in hens' feathers tied on with tape. The dimples peepedout.

  "Hail, O great chief!" she said.

  William gazed at her open-mouthed. Such intelligence on the part of agrown-up was unusual.

  "HAIL, O GREAT CHIEF!" SHE SAID.]

  "Chief Red Hand," he supplied with a fierce scowl.

  She bowed low, brown eyes alight with merriment.

  "And what death awaits the poor white face who has fallen defencelessinto his hand?"

  "You better come quiet to my wigwam an' see," said Red Hand darkly.

  She threw a glance to the bend in the drive behind which lay the houseand with a low laugh followed him through the bushes. From one point thedrawing-room window could be seen, and there the anxious Robert stood,pale with anxiety, stiff and upright in his newly-creased trousers (wellturned up to show the new blue socks), his soulful eyes fixedsteadfastly on the bend in the drive round which the beloved shouldcome. Every now and then his nervous hand wandered up to touch the newtie and gleaming new collar, which was rather too high and too tight forcomfort, but which the shopkeeper had informed his harassed customer wasthe "latest and most correct shape."

  Meanwhile the beloved had reached William's "dug-out." William had madethis himself of branches cut down from the trees and spent many happyhours in it with one or other of his friends.

  "Here is the wigwam, Pale-face," he said in a sepulchral voice. "Standhere while I decide with Snake Face and the other chiefs what's goin' tobe done to you. There's Snake Face an' the others," he added in hisnatural voice, pointing to a small cluster of shrubs.

  Approaching these, he stood and talked fiercely and unintelligibly fora few minutes, turning his scowling corked face and pointing his fingerat her every now and then, as, apparently, he described his capture.

  Then he approached her again.

  "That was Red Indian what I was talkin' then," he explained in hisordinary voice, then sinking it to its low, roaring note and scowlingmore ferociously than ever, "Snake Face says the Pale-face must bescalped and cooked and eat!"

  He took out a penknife and opened it as though to perform the operation,then continued, "But me and the others say that if you'll be a squaw an'cook for us we'll let you go alive."

  Miss Cannon dropped on to her knees.

  "Most humble and grateful thanks, great Red Hand," she said. "I willwith pleasure be your squaw."

  "I've gotter fire round here," said William proudly, leading her to theback of the wigwam, where a small wood fire smouldered spiritlessly,choked by a large tin full of a dark liquid.

  "That, O Squaw," said Red Hand with a dramatic gesture, "is a Pale-facewe caught las' night!"

  The squaw clasped her hands together.

  "Oh, how _lovely_!" she said. "Is he cooking?"
>
  Red Hand nodded. Then,

  "I'll get you some feathers," he said obligingly. "You oughter havefeathers, too."

  He retired into the depth of the wigwam and returned with a handful ofhen feathers. Miss Cannon took off her big shady hat and stuck thefeathers into her fluffy brown hair with a laugh.

  "This is jolly!" she said. "I love Red Indians!"

  "I've got some cork you can have to do your face, too," went on Williamwith reckless generosity. "It soon burns in the fire."

  She threw a glance towards the chimneys of the house that could be seenthrough the trees and shook her pretty head regretfully.

  "I'm afraid I'd better not," she said sadly.

  "Well," he said, "now I'll go huntin' and you stir the Pale-face andwe'll eat him when I come back. Now, I'll be off. You watch me track."

  He opened his clasp-knife with a bloodthirsty flourish and, castingsinister glances round him, crept upon his hands and knees into thebushes. He circled about, well within his squaw's vision, obviously bentupon impressing her. She stirred the mixture in the tin with a twig andthrew him every now and then the admiring glances he so evidentlydesired.

  Soon he returned, carrying over his shoulder a door-mat which he threwdown at her feet.

  "A venison, O squaw," he said in a lordly voice. "Let it be cooked. I'vehad it out all morning," he added in his ordinary tones; "they've notmissed it yet."

  He fetched from the "wigwam" two small jagged tins and, taking thelarger tin off the fire, poured some into each.

  "Now," he said, "here's some Pale-face for you, squaw."

  "Oh," she said, "I'm sure he's awfully good, but----"

  "You needn't be frightened of it," said William protectively. "It'sjolly good, I can tell you." He picked up the paper cover of a packet ofsoup from behind the trees. "It's jus' that and water and it's jollygood!"

  "How lovely! Do they let you----?"

  "They don't let me," he broke in hastily, "but there's heaps in thelarder and they don't notice one every now an' then. Go on!"encouragingly, "I don't mind you having it! Honest, I don't! I'll getsome more soon."

  Bravely she raised the tin to her lips and took a sip.

  "Gorgeous!" she said, shutting her eyes. Then she drained the tin.

  William's face shone with pride and happiness. But it clouded over asthe sound of a bell rang out from the house.

  "Crumbs! That's tea!"

  Hastily Miss Cannon took the feathers from her hair and put on her hat.

  "You don't keep a looking-glass in your wigwam I suppose?" she said.

  "N-no," admitted William. "But I'll get one for next time you come. I'llget one from Ethel's room."

  "Won't she mind?"

  "She won't know," said William simply.

  Miss Cannon smoothed down her dress.

  "I'm horribly late. What will they think of me? It was awful of me tocome with you. I'm always doing awful things. That's a secret betweenyou and me." She gave William a smile that dazzled him. "Now come in andwe'll confess."

  "I can't," said William. "I've got to wash an' come down tidy. Ipromised I would. It's a special day. Because of Robert, you know. Well_you_ know. Because of--Robert!"

  He looked up at her mystified face with a significant nod.

  * * * * *

  Robert was frantic. He had run his hands through his hair so often thatit stood around his head like a spiked halo.

  "We _can't_ begin without her," he said. "She'll think we're awful. Itwill--put her off me for ever. She's not used to being treated likethat. She's the sort of girl people don't begin without. She's the mostbeautiful girl I've ever met in all my life and you--my ownmother--treat her like this. You may be ruining my life. You've no ideawhat this means to me. If you'd seen her you'd feel more sympathy. Isimply can't describe her--I----"

  "I said four o'clock, Robert," said Mrs. Brown firmly, "and it's afterhalf-past. Ethel, tell Emma she can ring the bell and bring in tea."

  The perspiration stood out on Robert's brow.

  "It's--the downfall of all my hopes," he said hoarsely.

  Then, a few minutes after the echoes of the tea-bell died away, thefront door bell rang sharply. Robert stroked his hair down with wild,unrestrained movements of his hands, and summoned a tortured smile tohis lips.

  Miss Cannon appeared upon the threshold, bewitching and demure.

  "Aren't I perfectly disgraceful?" she said with her low laugh. "To tellthe truth, I met your little boy in the drive and I've been with himsome time. He's a perfect little dear, isn't he?"

  Her brown eyes rested on Robert. Robert moistened his lips and smiledthe tortured smile, but was beyond speech.

  "Yes, I know Ethel and I met your son--_yesterday_, wasn't it?"

  Robert murmured unintelligibly, raising one hand to the too tightcollar, and then bowed vaguely in her direction.

  Then they went in to tea.

  William, his hair well brushed, the cork partially washed from his face,and the feathers removed, arrived a few minutes later. Conversation wascarried on chiefly by Miss Cannon and Ethel. Robert racked his brain forsome striking remark, something that would raise him in her esteem farabove the ranks of the ordinary young man, but nothing came. Wheneverher brown eyes rested on him, however, he summoned the mirthless smileto his lips and raised a hand to relieve the strain of the imprisoningcollar. Desperately he felt the precious moments passing and his passionyet unrevealed, except by his eyes, whose message he was afraid she hadnot read.

  As they rose from tea, William turned to his mother, with an anxioussibilant whisper,

  "Ought _I_ to have put on my best suit _too_?"

  The demure lights danced in Miss Cannon's eyes and the look theperspiring Robert sent him would have crushed a less bold spirit.

  William had quite forgotten the orders he had received to retire fromthe scene directly after tea. He was impervious to all hints. Hefollowed in the train of the all-conquering Miss Cannon to thedrawing-room and sat on the sofa with Robert who had taken his seat nexthis beloved.

  "Are you--er--fond of reading, Miss Cannon?" began Robert with a painfuleffort.

  "I--_wrote_ a tale once," said William boastfully, leaning over Robertbefore she could answer. "It was a jolly good one. I showed it to somepeople. I'll show it to you if you like. It began with a pirate on araft an' he'd stole some jewel'ry and the king the jewels belonged towas coming after him on a steamer and jus' when he was comin' up to himhe jumped into the water and took the jewls with him an' a fish eat thejewls and the king caught it an'," he paused for breath.

  "I'd love to read it!" said Miss Cannon.

  Robert turned sideways, and resting an arm on his knee to exclude thepersistent William, spoke in a husky voice.

  "What is your favourite flower, Miss Cannon?"

  William's small head was craned round Robert's arm.

  "I've gotter garden. I've got Virginia Stock grow'n all over it. Itgrows up in no time. An' must'erd 'n cress grows in no time, too. I likethings what grow quick, don't you? You get tired of waiting for theother sorts, don't you?"

  Robert rose desperately.

  "Would you care to see the garden and green-houses, Miss Cannon?" hesaid.

  "I'd love to," said Miss Cannon.

  With a threatening glare at William, Robert led the way to the garden.And William, all innocent animation, followed.

  WILLIAM'S SMALL HEAD WAS CRANED ROUND ROBERT'S ARM. "ILIKE THINGS WHAT GROW QUICK, DON'T YOU?" HE SAID--ALL INNOCENTANIMATION.]

  "Can you tie knots what can't come untied?" he demanded.

  "No," she said, "I wish I could."

  "I can. I'll show you. I'll get a piece of string and show youafterwards. It's easy but it wants practice, that's all. An' I'll teachyou how to make aeroplanes out of paper what fly in the air when it'swindy. That's quite easy. Only you've gotter be careful to get 'em theright size. I can make 'em and I can make lots of things out of matchboxes an' things an'----"

&nb
sp; The infuriated Robert interrupted.

  "These are my father's roses. He's very proud of them."

  "They're beautiful."

  "Well, wait till you see my Virginia Stock! that's all. Wait----"

  "Will you have this tea-rose, Miss Cannon?" Robert's face was purple ashe presented it. "It--it--er--it suits you. You--er--flowers andyou--that is--I'm sure--you love flowers--you should--er--always haveflowers. If I----"

  "An' I'll get you those red ones and that white one," broke in theequally infatuated William, determined not to be outshone. "An' I'll getyou some of my Virginia Stock. An' I don't give my Virginia Stock to_anyone_," he added with emphasis.

  When they re-entered the drawing-room, Miss Cannon carried a largebouquet of Virginia Stock and white and red roses which completely hidRobert's tea-rose. William was by her side, chatting airily andconfidently. Robert followed--a pale statue of despair.

  In answer to Robert's agonised glance, Mrs. Brown summoned William toher corner, while Robert and Miss Cannon took their seat again upon thesofa.

  "I hope--I hope," said Robert soulfully, "I hope your stay here is along one?"

  "Well, why sha'n't I jus' _speak_ to her?" William's whisper was loudand indignant.

  "'Sh, dear!" said Mrs. Brown.

  "I should like to show you some of the walks around here," went onRobert desperately with a fearful glance towards the corner whereWilliam stood in righteous indignation before his mother. "If I couldhave that--er--pleasure--er--honour?"

  "I was only jus' _speaking_ to her," went on William's voice. "I wasn'tdoin' any harm, was I? Only _speaking_ to her!"

  The silence was intense. Robert, purple, opened his lips to saysomething, anything to drown that horrible voice, but nothing wouldcome. Miss Cannon was obviously listening to William.

  "Is no one else ever to _speak_ to her." The sibilant whisper, raised inindignant appeal, filled all the room. "Jus' 'cause Robert's fell inlove with her?"

  The horror of the moment haunted Robert's nights and days for weeks tocome.

  Mrs. Brown coughed hastily and began to describe at unnecessary lengththe ravages of the caterpillars upon her husband's favourite rose-tree.

  William withdrew with dignity to the garden a minute later and MissCannon rose from the sofa.

  "I must be going, I'm afraid," she said with a smile.

  Robert, anguished and overpowered, rose slowly.

  "You must come again some time," he said weakly but with passionundaunted.

  "I will," she said. "I'm longing to see more of William. I adoreWilliam!"

  * * * * *

  They comforted Robert's wounded feelings as best they could, but it wasEthel who devised the plan that finally cheered him. She suggested apicnic on the following Thursday, which happened to be Robert's birthdayand incidentally the last day of Miss Cannon's visit, and the picnicparty was to consist of--Robert, Ethel, Mrs. Clive and Miss Cannon, andWilliam was not even to be told where it was to be. The invitation wassent that evening and Robert spent the week dreaming of picnic lunchesand suggesting impossible dainties of which the cook had never heard. Itwas not until she threatened to give notice that he reluctantly agreedto leave the arrangements to her. He sent his white flannels (which wereperfectly clean) to the laundry with a note attached, hinting darkly atlegal proceedings if they were not sent back, spotless, by Thursdaymorning. He went about with an expression of set and solemn purpose uponhis frowning countenance. William he utterly ignored. He bought a bookof poems at a second-hand bookshop and kept them on the table by hisbed.

  They saw nothing of Miss Cannon in the interval, but Thursday dawnedbright and clear, and Robert's anxious spirits rose. He was presentedwith a watch and chain by his father and with a bicycle by his motherand a tin of toffee (given not without ulterior motive) by William.

  They met Mrs. Clive and Miss Cannon at the station and took tickets to avillage a few miles away whence they had decided to walk to a shady spoton the river bank.

  William's dignity was slightly offended by his pointed exclusion fromthe party, but he had resigned himself to it, and spent the first partof the morning in the character of Chief Red Hand among the rhododendronbushes. He had added an ostrich feather found in Ethel's room to hishead-dress, and used almost a whole cork on his face. He wore thedoor-mat pinned to his shoulders.

  After melting some treacle toffee in rain-water over his smoking fire,adding orange juice and drinking the resulting liquid, he tired of thegame and wandered upstairs to Robert's bedroom to inspect his birthdaypresents. The tin of toffee was on the table by Robert's bed. Williamtook one or two as a matter of course and began to read the love-poems.He was horrified a few minutes later to see the tin empty, but hefastened the lid with a sigh, wondering if Robert would guess who hadeaten them. He was afraid he would. Anyway he'd given him them. Andanyway, he hadn't known he was eating them.

  He then went to the dressing-table and tried on the watch and chain atvarious angles and with various postures. He finally resisted thetemptation to wear them for the rest of the morning and replaced them onthe dressing-table.

  Then he wandered downstairs and round to the shed, where Robert's newbicycle stood in all its glory. It was shining and spotless and Williamgazed at it in awe and admiration. He came to the conclusion that hecould do it no possible harm by leading it carefully round the house.Encouraged by the fact that Mrs. Brown was out shopping, he walked itround the house several times. He much enjoyed the feeling of importanceand possession that it gave him. He felt loth to part with it. Hewondered if it was very hard to ride. He had tried to ride one once whenhe was staying with an aunt. He stood on a garden bench and withdifficulty transferred himself from that to the bicycle seat. To hissurprise and delight he rode for a few yards before he fell off. Hetried again and fell off again. He tried again and rode straight into aholly bush. He forgot everything in his determination to master the art.He tried again and again. He fell off or rode into the holly bush againand again. The shining black paint of the bicycle was scratched, thehandle bars were slightly bent and dulled; William himself was bruisedand battered but unbeaten.

  At last he managed to avoid the fatal magnet of the holly bush, to steeran unsteady ziz-zag course down the drive and out into the road. He hadhad no particular intention of riding into the road. In fact he wasstill wearing his befeathered headgear, blacked face, and the mat pinnedto his shoulders. It was only when he was actually in the road that herealised that retreat was impossible, that he had no idea how to get offthe bicycle.

  What followed was to William more like a nightmare than anything else.He saw a motor-lorry coming towards him and in sudden panic turned downa side street and from that into another side street. People came out oftheir houses to watch him pass. Children booed or cheered him and ranafter him in crowds. And William went on and on simply because he couldnot stop. His iron nerve had failed him. He had not even the presence ofmind to fall off. He was quite lost. He had left the town behind him anddid not know where he was going. But wherever he went he was the centreof attraction. The strange figure with blackened, streaked face, matflying behind in the wind and a head-dress of feathers from which everynow and then one floated away, brought the population to its doors. Somesaid he had escaped from an asylum, some that he was an advertisement ofsomething. The children were inclined to think he was part of a circus.William himself had passed beyond despair. His face was white and set.His first panic had changed to a dull certainty that this would go onfor ever. He would never know how to stop. He supposed he would go rightacross England. He wondered if he were near the sea now. He couldn't befar off. He wondered if he would ever see his mother and father again.And his feet pedalled mechanically along. They did not reach the pedalsat their lowest point; they had to catch them as they came up and sendthem down with all their might.

  It was very tiring; William wondered if people would be sorry if hedropped down dead.

  I have said that William did not kn
ow where he was going.

  _But Fate knew._

  The picnickers walked down the hill from the little station to the riverbank. It was a beautiful morning. Robert, his heart and hopes high,walked beside his goddess, revelling in his nearness to her though hecould think of nothing to say to her. But Ethel and Mrs. Clive chatteredgaily.

  "We've given William the slip," said Ethel with a laugh. "He's no ideawhere we've gone even!"

  "I'm sorry," said Miss Cannon, "I'd have loved William to be here."

  "You don't know him," said Ethel fervently.

  "What a beautiful morning it is!" murmured Robert, feeling that someremark was due from him. "Am I walking too fast for you--Miss Cannon?"

  "Oh, no."

  "May I carry your parasol for you?" he enquired humbly.

  "Oh, no, thanks."

  He proposed a boat on the river after lunch, and it appeared that MissCannon would love it, but Ethel and Mrs. Clive would rather stay on thebank.

  His cup of bliss was full. It would be his opportunity of sealinglifelong friendship with her, of arranging a regular correspondence, andhinting at his ultimate intentions. He must tell her that, of course,while he was at college he was not in a position to offer his heart andhand, but if she could wait---- He began to compose speeches in hismind.

  They reached the bank and opened the luncheon baskets. Unhampered byRobert the cook had surpassed herself. They spread the white cloth andtook up their position around it under the shade of the trees.

  Just as Robert was taking up a plate of sandwiches to hand them with acourteous gesture to Miss Cannon, his eyes fell upon the long, whiteroad leading from the village to the riverside and remained fixed there,his face frozen with horror. The hand that held the plate droppedlifelessly back again on to the table-cloth. Their eyes followed his. Acurious figure was cycling along the road--a figure with blackened faceand a few drooping feathers on its head, and a door-mat flying in thewind. A crowd of small children ran behind cheering. It was a figurevaguely familiar to them all.

  "It can't be," said Robert hoarsely, passing a hand over his brow.

  No one spoke.

  It came nearer and nearer. There was no mistaking it.

  "William!" gasped four voices.

  William came to the end of the road. He did not turn aside to either ofthe 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 straightamongst them. They fled from before his charge. He rode over thetable-cloth, over the sandwiches, patties, rolls and cakes, down thebank and into the river.

  * * * * *

  They rescued him and the bicycle. Fate was against Robert even there. Itwas a passing boatman who performed the rescue. William emerged soakedto the skin, utterly exhausted, but feeling vaguely heroic. He was notin the least surprised to see them. He would have been surprised atnothing. And Robert wiped and examined his battered bicycle in impotentfury in the background while Miss Cannon pillowed William's drippinghead on her arm, fed him on hot coffee and sandwiches and called him "Mypoor darling Red Hand!"

  HE RODE OVER THE TABLE-CLOTH, OVER THE SANDWICHES ANDPATTIES, DOWN THE BANK AND INTO THE RIVER.]

  She insisted on going home with him. All through the journey shesustained the character of his faithful squaw. Then, leaving a casualinvitation to Robert and Ethel to come over to tea, she departed topack.

  Mrs. Brown descended the stairs from William's room with a tray on whichreposed a half-empty bowl of gruel, and met Robert in the hall.

  "Robert," she remonstrated, "you really needn't look so upset."

  Robert glared at her and laughed a hollow laugh.

  "Upset!" he echoed, outraged by the inadequacy of the expression. "You'dbe upset if your life was ruined. You'd be upset. I've a _right_ to beupset."

  He passed his hand desperately through his already ruffled hair.

  "You're going there to tea," she reminded him.

  "Yes," he said bitterly, "with other people. Who can talk with otherpeople there? No one can. I'd have talked to her on the river. I'd gotheaps of things ready in my mind to say. And William comes along andspoils my whole life--and my bicycle. And she's the most beautiful girlI've ever seen in my life. And I've wanted that bicycle for ever solong and it's not fit to ride."

  "But poor William has caught a very bad chill, dear, so you oughtn't tofeel bitter to him. And he'll have to pay for your bicycle being mended.He'll have no pocket money till it's paid for."

  "You'd think," said Robert with a despairing gesture in the direction ofthe hall table and apparently addressing it, "you'd think four grown-uppeople in a house could keep a boy of William's age in order, wouldn'tyou? You'd think he wouldn't be allowed to go about spoiling people'slives and--and ruining their bicycles. Well, he jolly well won't do itagain," he ended darkly.

  Mrs. Brown, proceeded in the direction of the kitchen.

  "Robert," she said soothingly over her shoulder, "you surely want to beat peace with your little brother, when he's not well, don't you?"

  "_Peace?_" he said. Robert turned his haggard countenance upon her asthough his ears must have deceived him. "_Peace!_ I'll wait. I'll waittill he's all right and going about; I won't start till then.But--peace! It's not peace, it's an _armistice_--that's all."