CHAPTER III
WILLIAM BELOW STAIRS
William was feeling embittered with life in general. He was passingthrough one of his not infrequent periods of unpopularity. The climaxhad come with the gift of sixpence bestowed on him by a timid aunt, whohoped thus to purchase his goodwill. With the sixpence he had bought aballoon adorned with the legs and head of a duck fashioned in cardboard.This could be blown up to its fullest extent and then left to subside.It took several minutes to subside, and during those minutes it emitteda long-drawn-out and high-pitched groan. The advantage of this wasobvious. William could blow it up to its fullest extent in private andleave it to subside in public concealed beneath his coat. While this wasgoing on William looked round as though in bewildered astonishment. Heinflated it before he went to breakfast. He then held it firmly andsecretly so as to keep it inflated till he was sitting at the table.Then he let it subside. His mother knocked over a cup of coffee, and hisfather cut himself with the bread knife. Ethel, his elder sister,indulged in a mild form of nervous breakdown. William sat with a face ofstartled innocence. But nothing enraged his family so much as William'sexpression of innocence. They fell upon him, and he defended himself aswell as he could. Yes, he was holding the balloon under the table. Well,he'd blown it up some time ago. He couldn't keep it blown up for ever.He had to let the air out some time. He couldn't help it making a noisewhen the air went out. It was the way it was made. He hadn't made it. Heset off to school with an air of injured innocence--and the balloon.Observing an elderly and irascible-looking gentleman in front of him, hewent a few steps down a back street, blew up his balloon and held ittightly under his coat. Then, when abreast of the old gentleman, he letit off. The old gentleman gave a leap into the air and glared fiercelyaround. He glanced at the small virtuous-looking schoolboy withobviously no instrument of torture at his lips, and then concentratedhis glare of fury and suspicion on the upper windows. William hastenedon to the next pedestrian. He had quite a happy walk to school.
School was at first equally successful. William opened his desk, hastilyinflated his balloon, closed his desk, then gazed round with hispractised expression of horrified astonishment at what followed. Hedrove the French master to distraction.
"Step out 'oo makes the noise," he screamed.
No one stepped out, and the noise continued at intervals.
The mathematics master finally discovered and confiscated the balloon.
"I hope," said the father at lunch, "that they've taken away thatinfernal machine of yours."
William replied sadly that they had. He added that some people didn'tseem to think it was stealing to take other people's things.
"Then we may look forward to a little peace this evening?" said thefather politely. "Not that it matters to me, as I'm going out to dinner.The only thing that relieves the tedium of going out to dinner is thefact that for a short time one has a rest from William."
William acknowledged the compliment by a scowl and a mysterious mutteredremark to the effect that some people were always at him.
During preparation in afternoon school he read a story-book kindly lenthim by his next-door neighbour. It was not because he had no work to dothat William read a story-book in preparation. It was a mark of defianceto the world in general. It was also a very interesting story-book. Itopened with the hero as a small boy misunderstood and ill-treated byeveryone around him. Then he ran away. He went to sea, and in a fewyears made an immense fortune in the goldfields. He returned in the lastchapter and forgave his family and presented them with a noble mansionand several shiploads of gold. The idea impressed William--all exceptthe end part. He thought he'd prefer to have the noble mansion himselfand pay rare visits to his family, during which he would listen to theirhumble apologies, and perhaps give them a nugget or two, but not verymuch--certainly not much to Ethel. He wasn't sure whether he'd everreally forgive them. He'd have rooms full of squeaky balloons andtrumpets in his house anyway, and he'd keep caterpillars and white ratsall over the place too--things they made such a fuss about in their oldhouse--and he'd always go about in dirty boots, and he'd never brush hishair or wash, and he'd keep dozens of motor-cars, and he wouldn't letEthel go out in any of them. He was roused from this enthrallingday-dream by the discovery and confiscation of his story-book by themaster in charge, and the subsequent fury of its owner. In orderadequately to express his annoyance, he dropped a little ball ofblotting-paper soaked in ink down William's back. William, on attemptingretaliation, was sentenced to stay in half an hour after school. Hereturned gloomily to his history book (upside down) and his misanthropicview of life. He compared himself bitterly with the hero of thestory-book and decided not to waste another moment of his life inuncongenial surroundings. He made a firm determination to run away assoon as he was released from school.
* * * * *
He walked briskly down the road away from the village. In his pocketreposed the balloon. He had made the cheering discovery that themathematics master had left it on his desk, so he had joyfully taken itagain into his possession. He thought he might reach the coast beforenight, and get to the goldfields before next week. He didn't suppose ittook long to make a fortune there. He might be back before nextChristmas and--crumbs! he'd jolly well make people sit up. He wouldn'tgo to school, for one thing, and he'd be jolly careful who he gavenuggets to for another. He'd give nuggets to the butcher's boy and thepostman, and the man who came to tune the piano, and the chimney-sweep.He wouldn't give any to any of his family, or any of the masters at theschool. He'd just serve people out the way they served him. He justwould. The road to the coast seemed rather long, and he was growingrather tired. He walked in a ditch for a change, and then scrapedthrough a hedge and took a short cut across a ploughed field. Dusk wasfalling fast, and even William's buoyant spirits began to flag. Thefortune part was all very well, but in the meantime he was cold andtired and hungry. He hadn't yet reached the coast, much less thegoldfields. Something must be done. He remembered that the boy in thestory had "begged his way" to the coast. William determined to beg his.But at present there seemed nothing to beg it from, except a hawthornhedge and a scarecrow in the field behind it. He wandered ondisconsolately deciding to begin his career as a beggar at the firstsign of human habitation.
At last he discovered a pair of iron gates through the dusk and,assuming an expression of patient suffering calculated to melt a heartof stone, walked up the drive. At the front door he smoothed down hishair (he had lost his cap on the way), pulled up his stockings, and rangthe bell. After an interval a stout gentleman in the garb of a butleropened the door and glared ferociously up and down William.
"Please----" began William plaintively.
The stout gentleman interrupted.
"If you're the new Boots," he said majestically, "go round to the backdoor. If you're not, go away."
"IF YOU'RE THE NEW BOOTS," HE SAID MAJESTICALLY, "GOROUND TO THE BACK DOOR."]
He then shut the door in William's face. William, on the top step,considered the question for a few minutes. It was dark and cold, withevery prospect of becoming darker and colder. He decided to be the newBoots. He found his way round to the back door and knocked firmly. Itwas opened by a large woman in a print dress and apron.
"What y' want?" she said aggressively.
"He said," said William firmly, "to come round if I was the new Boots."
The woman surveyed him in grim disapproval.
"You bin round to the front?" she said. "Nerve!"
Her disapproval increased to suspicion.
"Where's your things?" she said.
"Comin'," said William without a moment's hesitation.
"Too tired to bring 'em with you?" she said sarcastically. "All right.Come in!"
William came in gratefully. It was a large, warm, clean kitchen. A smallkitchen-maid was peeling potatoes at a sink, and a housemaid in black,with a frilled cap and apron, was powdering her nose before a glass onthe wall. They both turned to
stare at William.
"'Ere's the new Boots," announced Cook, "'is valet's bringin' 'is thingslater."
The housemaid looked up William from his muddy boots to his untidy hair,then down William from his untidy hair to his muddy boots.
"Imperdent-lookin' child," she commented haughtily, returning to hertask.
William decided inwardly that she was to have no share at all in thenuggets.
The kitchen-maid giggled and winked at William, with obviously friendlyintent. William mentally promised her half a ship-load of nuggets.
"Now, then, Smutty," said the house-maid with out turning round, "noneof your sauce!"
"'Ad your tea?" said the cook to William. William's spirits rose.
"No," he said plaintively.
"All right. Sit down at the table."
William's spirits soared sky high.
He sat at the table and the cook put a large plate of bread and butterbefore him.
William set to work at once. The house-maid regarded him scornfully.
"Learnt 'is way of eatin' at the Zoo," she said pityingly.
The kitchen-maid giggled again and gave William another wink. Williamhad given himself up to whole-hearted epicurean enjoying of his breadand butter and took no notice of them. At this moment the butlerentered.
He subjected the quite unmoved William to another long survey.
"When next you come a-hentering of this 'ouse, my boy," he said, "kindlyremember that the front door is reserved for gentry an' the back forbrats."
William merely looked at him coldly over a hunk of bread and butter.Mentally he knocked him off the list of nugget-receivers.
The butler looked sadly round the room.
"They're all the same," he lamented. "Eat, eat, eat. Nothin' but eat.Eat all day an' eat all night. 'E's not bin in the 'ouse two minutes an''e's at it. Eat! eat! eat! 'E'll 'ave all the buttons bust off hisuniform in a week like wot the larst one 'ad. Like eatin' better thanworkin', don't you?" he said sarcastically to William.
"Yes, I do, too," said William with firm conviction.
The kitchen-maid giggled again, and the housemaid gave a sigh expressiveof scorn and weariness as she drew a thin pencil over her eyebrows.
"Well, if you've quite finished, my lord," said the butler in ponderousirony, "I'll show you to your room."
William indicated that he had quite finished, and was led up to a verysmall bed-room. Over a chair lay a page's uniform with the conventionalrow of brass buttons down the front of the coat.
"Togs," explained the butler briefly. "Your togs. Fix 'em on quick asyou can. There's company to dinner to-night."
William fixed them on.
"You're smaller than wot the last one was," said the butler critically."They 'ang a bit loose. Never mind. With a week or two of stuffin'you'll 'ave most probable bust 'em, so it's as well to 'ang loose first.Now, come on. 'Oo's bringing over your things?"
"E--a friend," explained William.
"I suppose it _is_ a bit too much to expeck you to carry your ownparcels," went on the butler, "in these 'ere days. Bloomin' Bolshevist,I speck, aren't you?"
William condescended to explain himself.
"I'm a gold-digger," he said.
"Criky!" said the butler.
William was led down again to the kitchen.
The butler threw open a door that led to a small pantry.
"This 'ere is where you work, and this 'ere," pointing to a largekitchen, "is where you live. You 'ave not," he ended haughtily "thehentry into the servants' 'all."
"Crumbs!" said William.
"You might has well begin at once," went on the butler, "there's allthis lunch's knives to clean. 'Ere's a hapron, 'ere's the knife-boardan' 'ere's the knife-powder."
He shut the bewildered William into the small pantry and turned to thecook.
"What do you think of 'im?" he said.
"'E looks," said the cook gloomily, "the sort of boy we'll 'ave troublewith."
"Not much clarse," said the house-maid, arranging her frilled apron. "Itsurprises me 'ow any creature like a boy can grow into an experienced,sensible, broad-minded man like you, Mr. Biggs."
Mr. Biggs simpered and straightened his necktie.
"Well," he admitted, "as a boy, of course, I wasn't like 'im."
Here the pantry-door opened and William's face, plentifully adorned withknife-powder came round.
"I've done some of the knives," he said, "shall I be doin' somethingelse and finish the others afterwards?"
"'Ow many 'ave you done?" said Mr. Biggs.
"One or two," said William vaguely, then with a concession to accuracy,"well, two. But I'm feeling tired of doin' knives."
The kitchen-maid emitted a scream of delight and the cook heaved a deepsigh.
The butler advanced slowly and majestically towards William's tousledhead, which was still craned around the pantry door.
"You'll finish them knives, my boy," he said, "or----"
William considered the weight and size of Mr. Biggs.
"All right," he said pacifically. "I'll finish the knives."
He disappeared, closing the pantry door behind him.
"'E's goin' to be a trile," said the cook, "an' no mistake."
"Trile's 'ardly the word," said Mr. Biggs.
"Haffliction," supplied the housemaid.
"That's more like it," said Mr. Biggs.
Here William's head appeared again.
"Wot time's supper?" he said.
He retired precipitately at a hysterical shriek from the kitchen-maidand a roar of fury from the butler.
"You'd better go an' do your potatoes in the pantry," said the cook tothe kitchenmaid, "and let's 'ave a bit of peace in 'ere and see 'e'sdoin' of 'is work all right."
The kitchenmaid departed joyfully to the pantry.
William was sitting by the table, idly toying with a knife. He hadexperimented upon the knife powder by mixing it with water, and thelittle brown pies that were the result lay in a row on the mantelpiece.He had also tasted it, as the dark stains upon his lips testified. Hishair was standing straight up on his head as it always did when life wasstrenuous. He began the conversation.
"You'd be surprised," he said, "if you knew what I really was."
She giggled.
"Go on!" she said. "What are you?"
"I'm a gold-digger," he said. "I've got ship-loads an' ship-loads ofgold. At least, I will have soon. I'm not goin' to give _him_," pointingtowards the door, "any, nor any of them in there."
"Wot about me?" said the kitchenmaid, winking at the cat as the onlythird person to be let into the joke.
"You," said William graciously, "shall have a whole lot of nuggets. Lookhere." With a princely flourish he took up a knife and cut off threebuttons from the middle of his coat and gave them to her. "You keepthose and they'll be kind of tokens. See? When I come home rich you showme the buttons an' I'll remember and give you the nuggets. See? I'llmaybe 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 belland the arrival of the "company."
Mr. Biggs and the housemaid departed to do the honours. The kitchenmaidran to help with the dishing up, and William was left sitting on thepantry table, idly making patterns in knife powder with his finger.
"I'M A GOLD DIGGER," SAID WILLIAM. "I'VE GOT SHIPLOADSAN' SHIPLOADS 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 someboots and shoes on the floor to be done. Brushes an' blacking on theshelf."
William arose with alacrity. He thought boots would be more interestingthan knives. He carefully concealed the pile of uncleaned knive
s behindthe knife-box and began on the shoes.
The butler returned.
"Soup ready?" he said. "The company's just goin' into the dining-room--apal 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 partof it adhered to his own hands. The butler looked in at him.
"Wot's 'appened to your buttons?" he said sternly.
"Come off," said William.
"Bust off," corrected the butler. "I said so soon as I saw you. I saidyou'd 'ave eat your buttons bust off in a week. Well, you've eat 'embust off in ten minutes."
"Eatin' an' destroyin' of 'is clothes," he said gloomily, returning tothe kitchen. "It's all boys ever do--eatin' an' destroyin' of theirclothes."
He went out with the soup and William was left with the boots. He wasgetting tired of boots. He'd covered them all thickly with blacking, andhe didn't know what to do next. Then suddenly he remembered his balloonin his pocket upstairs. It might serve to vary the monotony of life. Heslipped 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 awayslowly 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 stoodholding in one hand an inflated balloon with the cardboard head and legsof a duck.
The butler approached him.
"If you let off that there thing once more, you little varmint," hesaid, "I'll----"
Threateningly he had advanced his large expanse of countenance veryclose to William's. Acting upon a sudden uncontrollable impulse Williamtook 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 hurledhimself furiously upon William....
* * * * *
In the dining-room sat the master and mistress of the house and theirguest.
"Did the new Boots arrive?" said the master to his wife.
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 possessone. Though he is my own son, I find it difficult to describe theatmosphere of peace and relief that pervades the house when he is out ofit."
"I'd like to meet your son," said the host.
"You probably will, sooner or later," said the guest gloomily. "Everyonein the neighbourhood meets him sooner or later. He does not hide hislight 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. 'Ihope,' she read, 'that you aren't inconvenienced much by the non-arrivalof the Boots I engaged for you. He's got "flu."' But he's come," shesaid wonderingly.
There came the sound of an angry shout, a distant scream and theclattering of heavy running footsteps ... growing nearer....
"A revolution, I expect," said the guest wearily. "The Reds are uponus."
At that moment the door was burst open and in rushed a boy with ablacking brush in one hand and an inflated balloon in the other. He wasmuch dishevelled, with three buttons off the front of his uniform, andhis face streaked with knife powder and blacking. Behind him ran a fatbutler, his face purple with fury beneath a large smear of blacking. Theboy rushed round the table, slipped on the polished floor, clutcheddesperately at the neck of the guest, bringing both guest and chair downupon the floor beside him. In a sudden silence of utter paralysedhorror, guest and boy sat on the floor and stared at each other. Thenthe boy's nerveless hand relaxed its hold upon the balloon, which hadsomehow or other survived the vicissitudes of the flight, and a shrillsqueak rang through the silence of the room.
The master and mistress of the house sat looking round in dazedastonishment.
As the guest looked at the boy there appeared on his countenanceamazement, then incredulity, and finally frozen horror. As the boylooked at the guest there appeared on his countenance amazement, thenincredulity and finally blank dejection.
"Good Lord!" said the guest, "it's _William_!"
"Oh, crumbs!" said the Boots, "it's _father_!"
Just William Page 3
