Just William

by Richmal Crompton

  CHAPTER VI

  A QUESTION OF GRAMMAR

  It was raining. It had been raining all morning. William was intenselybored with his family.

  "What can I do?" he demanded of his father for the tenth time.

  "_Nothing!_" said his father fiercely from behind his newspaper.

  William followed his mother into the kitchen.

  "What can I do?" he said plaintively.

  "Couldn't you just sit quietly?" suggested his mother.

  "That's not _doin'_ anything," William said. "I _could_ sit quietly allday," he went on aggressively, "if I wanted."

  "But you never do."

  "No, 'cause there wouldn't be any _sense_ in it, would there?"

  "Couldn't you read or draw or something?"

  "No, that's lessons. That's not doin' anything!"

  "I could teach you to knit if you like."

  With one crushing glance William left her.

  He went to the drawing-room, where his sister Ethel was knitting ajumper and talking to a friend.

  "And I heard her say to him----" she was saying. She broke off with thesigh of a patient martyr as William came in. He sat down and glared ather. She exchanged a glance of resigned exasperation with her friend.

  "What are you doing, William?" said the friend sweetly.

  "Nothin'," said William with a scowl.

  "Shut the door after you when you go out, won't you, William?" saidEthel equally sweetly.

  William at that insult rose with dignity and went to the door. At thedoor he turned.

  "I wun't stay here now," he said with slow contempt, "not even if--evenif--even if," he paused to consider the most remote contingency, "noteven if you wanted me," he said at last emphatically.

  He shut the door behind him and his expression relaxed into a sardonicsmile.

  "I bet they feel _small_!" he said to the umbrella-stand.

  He went to the library, where his seventeen-year-old brother Robert wasshowing off his new rifle to a friend.

  "You see----" he was saying, then, catching sight of William's faceround the door, "Oh, get out!"

  William got out.

  He returned to his mother in the kitchen with a still more jaundicedview of life. It was still raining. His mother was looking at thetradesmen's books.

  "Can I go out?" he said gloomily.

  "No, of course not. It's pouring."

  "I don't mind rain."

  "Don't be silly."

  William considered that few boys in the whole world were handicapped bymore unsympathetic parents than he.

  "Why," he said pathetically, "have they got friends in an' me not?"

  "I suppose you didn't think of asking anyone," she said calmly.

  "Well, can I have someone now?"

  "No, it's too late," said Mrs. Brown, raising her head from thebutcher's book and murmuring "ten and elevenpence" to herself.

  "Well, when can I?"

  She raised a harassed face.

  "William, do be quiet! Any time, if you ask. Eighteen and twopence."

  "Can I have lots?"

  "Oh, go and ask your father."

  William went out.

  He returned to the dining-room, where his father was still reading apaper. The sigh with which his father greeted his entrance was not oneof relief.

  "If you've come to ask questions----" he began threateningly.

  "I haven't," said William quickly. "Father, when you're all away onSaturday, can I have a party?"

  "No, of course not," said his father irritably. "Can't you _do_something?"

  William, goaded to desperation, burst into a flood of eloquence.

  "THE SORT OF THINGS I WANT TO DO THEY DON'T WANT ME TODO, AN' THE SORT OF THINGS I DON'T WANT TO DO THEY WANT ME TO DO."WILLIAM'S SCORN AND FURY WAS INDESCRIBABLE.]

  "The sort of things I want to do they don't want me to do an' the sortof things I don't want to do they want me to do. Mother said to knit._Knit!_"

  His scorn and fury were indescribable. His father looked out of thewindow.

  "Thank Heaven, it's stopped raining! Go out!"

  William went out.

  There were some quite interesting things to do outside. In the roadthere were puddles, and the sensation of walking through a puddle, asevery boy knows, is a very pleasant one. The hedges, when shaken, sentquite a shower bath upon the shaker, which also is a pleasant sensation.The ditch was full and there was the thrill of seeing how often onecould jump across it without going in. One went in more often than not.It is also fascinating to walk in mud, scraping it along with one'sboots. William's spirits rose, but he could not shake off the idea ofthe party. Quite suddenly he wanted to have a party and he wanted tohave it on Saturday. His family would be away on Saturday. They weregoing to spend the day with an aunt. Aunts rarely included William intheir invitation.

  He came home wet and dirty and cheerful. He approached his fatherwarily.

  "Did you say I could have a party, father?" he said casually.

  "_No_, I did _not_," said Mr. Brown firmly.

  William let the matter rest for the present.

  He spent most of the English Grammar class in school next morningconsidering it. There was a great deal to be said for a party in theabsence of one's parents and grown-up brother and sister. He'd like toask George and Ginger and Henry and Douglas and--and--and--heaps ofthem. He'd like to ask them all. "They" were the whole class--thirty innumber.

  "What have I just been saying, William?"

  William sighed. That was the foolish sort of question thatschoolmistresses were always asking. They ought to know themselves whatthey'd just been saying better than anyone. _He_ never knew. Why werethey always asking him? He looked blank. Then:

  "Was it anythin' about participles?" He remembered something vaguelyabout participles, but it mightn't have been to-day.

  Miss Jones groaned.

  "That was ever so long ago, William," she said. "You've not beenattending."

  William cleared his throat with a certain dignity and made no answer.

  "Tell him, Henry."

  Henry ceased his enthralling occupation of trying to push a fly into hisink-well with his nib and answered mechanically:

  "Two negatives make an affirmative."

  "Yes. Say that, William."

  William repeated it without betraying any great interest in the fact.

  "Yes. What's a negative, William?"

  William sighed.

  "Somethin' about photographs?" he said obligingly.

  "_No_," snapped Miss Jones. She found William and the heat (Williamparticularly) rather trying.

  "It's 'no' and 'not.' And an affirmative is 'yes.'"

  "Oh," said William politely.

  "So two 'nos' and 'nots' mean 'yes,' if they're in the same sentence. Ifyou said 'There's not no money in the box' you mean there is."

  William considered.

  He said "Oh" again.

  Then he seemed suddenly to become intelligent.

  "Then," he said, "if you say 'no' and 'not' in the same sentence does itmean 'yes'?"

  "Certainly."

  William smiled.

  William's smile was a rare thing.

  "Thank you," he said.

  Miss Jones was quite touched. "It's all right, William," she said, "I'mglad you're beginning to take an interest in your work."

  William was murmuring to himself.

  "'No, of course _not_' and 'No, I did not' and a 'no' an' a 'not' mean a'yes,' so he meant 'yes, of course' and 'yes, I did.'"

  He waited till the Friday before he gave his invitations with a casualair.

  "My folks is goin' away to-morrow an' they said I could have a fewfren's in to tea. Can you come? Tell your mother they said jus' to comean' not bother to write."

  He was a born strategist. Not one of his friends' parents guessed thetrue state of affairs. When William's conscience (that curious organ)rose to reproach him, he said to it firmly:

  "He _said_ I could. He said '_Yes_
, of course.' He said '_Yes_, Idid.'"

  He asked them _all_. He thought that while you are having a party youmight as well have a big one. He hinted darkly at unrestrained joy andmirth. They all accepted the invitation.

  William's mother took an anxious farewell of him on Saturday morning.

  "You don't mind being left, darling, do you?"

  "No, mother," said William with perfect truth.

  "You won't do anything we've told you not to, will you?"

  "No, mother. Only things you've said 'yes' to."

  Cook and Jane had long looked forward to this day. There would be verylittle to do in the house and as far as William was concerned they hopedfor the best.

  William was out all the morning. At lunch he was ominously quiet andpolite. Jane decided to go with her young man to the pictures.

  Cook said she didn't mind being left, as "that Master William" had goneout and there seemed to be no prospect of his return before tea-time.

  So Jane went to the pictures.

  About three o'clock the postman came and cook went to the door for theletters. Then she stood gazing down the road as though transfixed.

  William had collected his guests en route. He was bringing them joyfullyhome with him. Clean and starched and prim had they issued from theirhomes, but they had grown hilarious under William's benign influence.They had acquired sticks and stones and old tins from the ditches asthey came along. They perceived from William's general attitude towardsit that it was no ordinary party. They were a happy crowd. Williamheaded them with a trumpet.

  They trooped in at the garden gate. Cook, pale and speechless, watchedthem. Then her speechlessness departed.

  "You're not coming in here!" she said fiercely. "What've you brought allthose boys cluttering up the garden?"

  "They've come to tea," said William calmly.

  She grew paler still.

  "That they've _not_!" she said fiercely. "What your father'd say----"

  "He _said_ they could come," said William. "I asked him an' he said'Yes, of course,' an' I asked if he'd said so an' he said 'Yes, I did.'That's what he said 'cause of English Grammar an' wot Miss Jones said."

  Cook's answer was to slam the door in his face and lock it. The thirtyguests were slightly disconcerted, but not for long.

  "Come on!" shouted William excitedly. "She's the enemy. Let's storm herole castle."

  The guests' spirits rose. This promised to be infinitely superior to theusual party.

  They swarmed round to the back of the house. The enemy had bolted theback door and was fastening all the windows. Purple with fury she shookher fist at William through the drawing-room window. William brandishedhis piece of stick and blew his trumpet in defiant reply. The army hadarmed itself with every kind of weapon, including the raspberry-caneswhose careful placing was the result of a whole day's work of William'sfather. William decided to climb up to the balcony outside Ethel'sopen bedroom window with the help of his noble band. The air was full oftheir defiant war-whoops. They filled the front garden, trampling on allthe rose beds, cheering William as he swarmed up to the balcony, histrumpet between his lips. The enemy appeared at the window and shut itwith a bang, and William, startled, dropped down among his followers.They raised a hoarse roar of anger.

  THEY TROOPED IN AT THE GARDEN GATE. COOK, PALE ANDSPEECHLESS, WATCHED THEM.]

  "Mean ole cat!" shouted the enraged general.

  The blood of the army was up. No army of thirty strong worthy of itsname could ever consent to be worsted by an enemy of one. All the doorsand windows were bolted. There was only one thing to be done. And thisthe general did, encouraged by loyal cheers from his army. "Go it, oleWilliam! Yah! He--oo--o!"

  The stone with which William broke the drawing-room window fell upon asmall occasional table, scattering Mrs. Brown's cherished silver far andwide.

  William, with the born general's contempt for the minor devastations ofwar, enlarged the hole and helped his gallant band through with only alimited number of cuts and scratches. They were drunk with the thrill ofbattle. They left the garden with its wreck of rose trees and itstrampled lawn and crowded through the broken window with imminent dangerto life and limb. The enemy was shutting the small window of thecoal-cellar, and there William imprisoned her, turning the key with aloud yell of triumph.

  The party then proceeded.

  It fulfilled the expectations of the guests that it was to be a partyunlike any other party. At other parties they played "Hide andSeek"--with smiling but firm mothers and aunts and sisters stationed atintervals with damping effects upon one's spirits, with "not in thebedrooms, dear," and "mind the umbrella stand," and "certainly not inthe drawing-room," and "don't shout so loud, darling." But this was Hideand Seek from the realms of perfection. Up the stairs and down thestairs, in all the bedrooms, sliding down the balusters, in and out ofthe drawing-room, leaving trails of muddy boots and shattered ornamentsas they went!

  Ginger found a splendid hiding-place in Robert's bed, where his bootsleft a perfect impression of their muddy soles in several places. Henryfound another in Ethel's wardrobe, crouching upon her satin eveningshoes among her evening dresses. George banged the drawing-room doorwith such violence that the handle came off in his hand. Douglas becameentangled in the dining-room curtain, which yielded to his struggles anddescended upon him and an old china bowl upon the sideboard. It was sucha party as none of them had dreamed of; it was bliss undiluted. Thehouse was full of shouting and yelling, of running to and fro of smallboys mingled with subterranean murmurs of cook's rage. Cook was utteringhorrible imprecations and hurling lumps of coal at the door. She wasIrish and longed to return to the fray.

  It was William who discovered first that it was tea-time and there wasno tea. At first he felt slightly aggrieved. Then he thought of thelarder and his spirits rose.

  "Come on!" he called. "All jus' get what you can."

  They trooped in, panting, shouting, laughing, and all just got what theycould.

  Ginger seized the remnants of a cold ham and picked the bone, Georgewith great gusto drank a whole jar of cream, William and Douglas betweenthem ate a gooseberry pie, Henry ate a whole currant cake. Each foragedfor himself. They ate two bowls of cold vegetables, a joint of coldbeef, two pots of honey, three dozen oranges, three loaves and two potsof dripping. They experimented upon lard, onions, and raw sausages. Theyleft the larder a place of gaping emptiness. Meanwhile cook's voice,growing hoarser and hoarser as the result of the inhalation of coal dustand exhalation of imprecations, still arose from the depths and stillthe door of the coal-cellar shook and rattled.

  Then one of the guests who had been in the drawing-room window cameback.

  "She's coming home!" he shouted excitedly.

  They flocked to the window.

  Jane was bidding a fond farewell to her young man at the side gate.

  "Don't let her come in!" yelled William. "Come on!"

  With a smile of blissful reminiscence upon her face, Jane turned in atthe gate. She was totally unprepared for being met by a shower ofmissiles from upper windows.

  A lump of lard hit her on the ear and knocked her hat on to one side.She retreated hastily to the side gate.

  "Go on! Send her into the road."

  A SHOWER OF ONIONS, THE HAM BONE, AND A FEW POTATOESPURSUED HER INTO THE ROAD.]

  A shower of onions, the ham bone, and a few potatoes pursued her intothe road. Shouts of triumph rent the air. Then the shouts of triumphdied away abruptly. William's smile also faded away, and his hand, inthe act of flinging an onion, dropped. A cab was turning in at the frontgate. In the sudden silence that fell upon the party, cook's hoarsecries for vengeance rose with redoubled force from the coal cellar.William grew pale.

  The cab contained his family.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later a small feminine friend of William's who had called witha note for his mother, looked up to William's window and caught sight ofWilliam's untidy head.

&
nbsp; "Come and play with me, William," she called eagerly.

  "I can't. I'm goin' to bed," said William sternly.

  "Why? Are you ill, William?"

  "No."

  "Well, why are you going to bed, William?"

  William leant out of the window.

  "I'm goin' to bed," he said, "'cause my father don't understand 'boutEnglish Grammar, that's why!"