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Still - William

<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> WILLIAM SPOILS THE PARTY The Botts were going to give a fancy dress dance at the Hall on New Year’s Eve, and William and all his family had been invited. The inviting of William, of course, was the initial mistake, and if only the Botts had had the ordinary horse sense (it was Robert, who said this) not to invite William the thing might have been a success. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know William. If they hadn’t known William, Robert said, one might have been sorry for them, but knowing William and deliberately inviting him to a fancy dress dance—well, they jolly well deserved all they got. On the other hand William’s own family didn’t ... and it was jolly hard lines on them (again I quote Robert).... Knowing that they had William all day and every day at home, anyone would think they’d have had the decency to invite them out without him.... I mean whatever you said or whatever you did, you couldn’t prevent it ... he spoilt your life wherever he went. But the Botts (of Botts’ Famous Digestive Sauce) had a ballroom that held 200 guests and they wanted to fill it. Moreover the Botts had a cherished daughter of tender years named Violet Elizabeth, and Violet Elizabeth with her most engaging lisp and that hint of tears that was her most potent weapon, had said that she wanted her friendth to be invited too an’ she’d thcream an’ thcream an’ thcream till she was thick if they din’t invite her friendth to the party too.... [Pg 187] “All right, pet,” had said Mr. Bott soothingly, “After all we may as well give a real slap-up show while we’re about it and swell out the whole place—kids an’ all.” Mr. Bott was “self-made” and considering all things had made quite a decent job of himself, but his manners had not “the repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere.” Violet Elizabeth on the other hand had been brought up from infancy in the lap of luxury and refinement provided by the successful advertising of Botts’ Famous Digestive Sauce. ****** The delight with which Robert and Ethel (William’s elder brother and sister) received the invitation to the fancy dress dance was, as I have said, considerably tempered by the fact of William’s inclusion in the invitation. And William, with his natural perversity, was eager to go. “Any show we want him to go to,” said Robert bitterly, “he raises Cain about, but when a thing like this comes along—a thing that he’ll completely spoil for us if he comes like he always does——” he spread out his arm with the eloquent gesture of one tried almost beyond endurance, and left the sentence unfinished. “Well, let’s accept for ourselves, and say that William can’t go because he’s got a previous engagement,” suggested Ethel. “But I haven’t,” said William indignantly, “I haven’t got anything at all wrong with me. I’m quite well. An’ I want to go. I don’ see why everyone else should go but me. Besides,” using an argument that he knew would appeal to them, “you’ll all be there an’ you’ll be able to see I’m not doing anything wrong, but if I was alone at home you wouldn’t know what I was doing. Not,” he added hastily, “that I want to do anything wrong. All I want to do is to[Pg 188] make others happy. An’ I’ll have a better chance of doin’ that at a party than if I was all alone at home.” These virtuous sentiments did but increase the suspicious distrust of his family. The general feeling was that far worse things happened when William was out to be good than when he was frankly out to be bad. “Oh, I think William must go,” said Mrs. Brown in her placid voice. “It will be so interesting for him and I’m sure he’ll be good.” Mrs. Brown’s rather pathetic faith in William’s latent powers of goodness was unshared by any other of his family. “Anyway,” she went on hastily, seeing only incredulity on the faces around her, “the thing to do now is to decide what we’re all going as.” “I think I’ll go as a lion,” said William. “I should think you could buy a lion skin quite cheap.” “Oh, quite!” said Robert sarcastically. “Why not shoot one while you’re about it?” “Yes, an’ I will,” said William, “’f you’ll show me one. I bet my bow and arrow could kill a few lions.” “No William, darling,” interposed Mrs. Brown again quickly, “I think you’d find a lion skin too hot for a crowded room.” “But I wun’t go into the room,” said William, “I want to crawl about the garden in it roarin’ an’ springin’ out at folks—scarin’ ’em.” “And you just said you wanted to go to make people happy,” said Robert sternly. “Well that’d make ’em happy,” said William unabashed, “it’d be fun for ’em.” “Not a lion, darling,” said his mother firmly. “Well a brigand then,” suggested William, “a brigand with knives all over me.” Mrs. Brown shuddered. “No, William.... I believe Aunt Emma has[Pg 189] a fancy dress suit of Little Lord Fauntleroy that Cousin Jimmie once wore. I expect she’d lend it, but I’m not sure whether it wouldn’t be too small.” Wild shouts greeted this suggestion. “Well,” William said offended, “I don’ know who he was but I don’ know why you should think me bein’ him so funny.” The Little Lord Fauntleroy suit proved too small much to the relief of William’s family, but another cousin was found to have a Page’s costume which just fitted William. But it certainly did not suit him. As Mrs. Brown put it, “I don’t know quite what’s wrong with the costume but somehow it looks so much more attractive off than on.” Robert was to go as Henry V and Ethel as Night. William to his delight found that all the members of his immediate circle of friends (known to themselves as the Outlaws) had been invited to the fancy dress dance. All had wished to go as animals or brigands or pirates, but family opposition and the offer of the loan of costumes from other branches of their families had been too strong in every case. Ginger was to be an Ace of Clubs, Henry a Gondolier (“dunno what it is,” remarked Henry despondently, “but you bet it’s nothing exciting or they wouldn’t have let me be it”). Douglas was to be a Goat Herd (“It’s an ole Little Boy Blue set-out,” he explained mournfully, “but I said I wouldn’t go if they didn’t call it something else. Not but what everyone’ll know,” he ended gloomily). “An’ we could’ve been brigands s’easy, s’easy,” said Ginger indignantly. “Why, you only want a shirt an’ a pair of trousers an’ a coloured handkerchief round your head an’ a scarf thing round your waist with a few knives an’ choppers an’ things on it.... No trouble at all for them, an’ they jus’ won’t let us—jus’ cause we want to.” [Pg 190] There was a short silence. Then William spoke. “Well, let’s,” he said, “let’s get Brigands things an’ change into ’em when we’ve got there. They’ll never know. They’ll never notice. We’ll hide ’em in the old summer house by the lake an’ go an’ change there, an’—an’ we won’t wear their rotten ole Boy Blues an’ Gondowhatevritis. We’ll be Brigands.” “We’ll be Brigands,” agreed the Outlaws joyfully. ****** The Botts were having a large house party for the occasion. “Lord Merton is going to be there,” said Mrs. Brown to her husband, looking up from her usual occupation of darning socks, as he entered the room. “Just fancy! He’s in the Cabinet! Mr. Bott’s got to know his son in business and he’s coming down for it and going to stay the night.” “That fellow!” snorted Mr. Brown, “he ought to be shot.” Mr. Brown’s political views were always very decided and very violent. “He’s ruining the country.” “Is he, dear?” said Mrs. Brown in her usual placid voice. “But I’m sure he’ll look awfully nice as a Toreador. She says he’s going as a Toreador.” “Toreador!” snorted Mr. Brown, “very appropriate too. He is a Toreador!—and we’re the—bull. I tell you that man’s policy is bringing the country to rack and ruin. When you’re dying of starvation you can think of the fellow Toreadoring—Toreador indeed! I wonder decent people have him in their houses. Toreador indeed. I tell you he’s bleeding the country to death. He ought to be hung for murder. That man’s policy, I tell you, is wicked—criminal. Leave him alone and in ten years time he’ll have wiped out half the population of England by slow starvation. He’s killing trade. He’s ruining the country.” “Yes, dear,” murmured Mrs. Brown, “I’m sure[Pg 191] you’re right.... I think these blue socks of yours are almost done, don’t you?” “Ruining it!” snorted Mr. Brown, going out of the room and slamming the door. William looked up from the table where he was engaged theoretically in doing his homework. Practically he was engaged in sticking pins into the lid of his pencil case. “Why’s he not in prison if he’s like that?” said William. “Who, darling?” said Mrs. Brown, “your father?” “No, the man he was talking about. And what’s a Toreador?” “Oh ... a man who fights bulls.” William’s spirits rose. “Will there be bulls there?” “I hope not, dear.” “Shall I go as a bull? It seems silly to have a Tor—what you said, without a bull. I could easy get a bull skin. I ’spect the butcher’d give me one.” Mrs. Brown shuddered. “No dear, most certainly not. Now do get on with your homework.” William, having fixed all his pins except one into the lid, now took the last pin and began to twang them with it. They made different noises according as they were twanged near the head or near the point. Mrs. Brown looked up, then bent her head again over her darning ... what funny things they taught children nowadays, she thought. ****** The day of the dance drew nearer. Robert was still feeling sore at the prospect of William’s presence. He relieved his feelings by jeering at William’s costume. William himself, as it happened, was not quite happy about the costume. It was a long stretch from the animal skin and Brigand’s apparel of his fancy to[Pg 192] this pale blue sateen of reality. When he heard a visitor, to whom Mrs. Brown showed it, say that it was “picturesque” his distrust of it grew deeper. Robert was never tired of alluding to it. “Won’t William look sweet?” he would say, and “Don’t frown like that, William. That won’t go with the little Prince Charming costume at all.” William accepted these taunts with outward indifference, but no one insulted William with impunity. Robert might have taken warning from past experiences.... When not engaged in tempting the Fates by teasing William, Robert was engaged in trying to win the affection of a female epitome of all the virtues and graces who had come to stay with the Crewes for the dance. This celestial creature was called Glory Tompkins. Robert called her Gloire as being more romantic. At least he spelt it Gloire but pronounced it Glor. Through Robert’s life there passed a never-ending procession of young females endowed with every beauty of form and soul. To each one in turn he sincerely vowed eternal fidelity. Each one was told in hoarse accents how from now onwards his whole life would be dedicated to making himself more worthy of her. Then after a week or two her startling perfection would seem less startling, and someone yet more perfect would dawn upon the horizon, shattering poor Robert’s susceptible soul yet again. Fortunately the fidelity of these youthful radiant beings was about on a par with Robert’s own.... Anyway Glory was the latest, and Robert called on the Crewes every evening to tell Glory with his eyes (the expression that he fondly imagined to express lifelong passion as a matter of fact was suggestive chiefly of acute indigestion) or with his lips how empty and worthless his life had been till he met her.... [Pg 193] William had his eye on the affair. He generally followed Robert’s love affairs with interest, though it was difficult to keep pace with them. A handle against Robert was useful and more than once Robert’s love affairs had afforded useful handles. Robert’s physical size and strength made William wary in his choice of weapons, but it was generally William who scored.... ****** On the day before the dance Robert had written a note to Miss Tompkins. <div class="blockquot"> “Beloved Gloire (Robert preferred writing Gloire to saying it because he had a vague suspicion that he didn’t pronounce it quite right). “You will know with what deep feelings I am looking forward to to-morrow. Will you have the 1st and 3rd and 4th and 7th and 8th with me. The 4th is the Blues you know that we have been practising. If it is fine and the moon is out shall we sit out the 1st in the rose garden on the seat by the sundial? It will be my first meeting with you for two days and I do not want it profaned by other people, who know and care nothing of our deep feeling for each other, all about us. When the music starts will you be there, and just for the few sacred moments we will tell each other all that is in our souls. Then we will be gay for the rest of the evening, but the memory of those few sacred minutes of the first dance in the rose garden, just you and me and the moon and the roses, will be with us in our souls all the evening. “Your knight, “Robert.” </div> He was going to take it himself though he knew that his idol had gone away for the day. However a friend hailed him just as he was setting out, so he[Pg 194] put the note on the hatstand and went out to join his friend, meaning to take the note later. He met William just coming in. “Hello, little page——” he said in mock affection. William looked at him, his brows drawn into a frown, his most sphinx-like expression upon his freckled face. William’s stubbly hair as usual stood up around his face like a halo.... William was not beautiful. Robert, whistling gaily, went down the steps to join his friend at the gate. William took up the note, read the address, and went into the drawing-room where Mrs. Brown was, as usual, darning socks. “Sh’ I take this note for Robert?” he said, assuming his earnestly virtuous expression. Mrs. Brown was touched. “Yes, dear,” she said, “how thoughtful of you.” An hour later Robert returned. “I say,” he said, “where’s that note? I left a note here. Has it been taken round?” “Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Brown absently. At that moment William was sitting on a gate far from the main road reading the note. On his face was a smile of pure bliss. There was a look of purpose in his eye. ****** The evening arrived. William as a Page, Ginger as Ace of Clubs, Douglas as a Goat Herd, Henry as a Gondolier, stood in a sheepish group and were gazed at proudly by their fond mothers. They looked far from happy, but the thought of the Brigands’ clothes concealed in the summer house comforted them. Robert as Henry V was having a good deal of trouble with his costume. He had closed the vizor of his helmet and it refused to open. Several of his friends were trying to force it. Muffled groans came from within. [Pg 195] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/fig29.jpg" alt="" /> “JUST TO THINK, DARLING,” MURMURED ROBERT, “THAT LAST WEEK I DIDN’T KNOW YOU. YOU’VE GIVEN A NEW MEANING TO MY LIFE.” </div> [Pg 196] Violet Elizabeth was dressed as a Star. She was leaping up and down and squeaking, “Look at me. I’m a thtar!” She shed stars at every leap, and an attendant nurse armed with needle and cotton sewed them on again. Pierrots, peasant girls, harlequins, kings, queens, gypsies and representatives of every nationality filled the room. It was noticed, with no particular interest on anyone’s part, that William the Page was no longer the centre of the sheepish group of fancy-dressed Outlaws. William the Page had crept into the ladies’ dressing-room, and in the temporary absence of the attendant (who was engaged in carrying on an impromptu flirtation with a good-looking chauffeur in the drive) he purloined a lady’s black velvet evening cloak and a filmy scarf. Fortunately the cloak had a hood.... ****** Robert, helmetless and rather purple in the face as the result of his prolonged sojourn behind his vizor (from which he had finally been freed by a tin opener borrowed from the kitchen), came to the rose garden. Upon the seat that was the appointed trysting place a petite figure was awaiting him shrouded in a cloak. “Glory!” breathed Robert softly. The figure seemed to sway towards him, though its face was still completely hidden by its scarf and hood. Robert slipped his strong arm round it, and it nestled on his shoulder. “Just to think,” murmured Robert, “that this time last week I didn’t know you. You’ve given an entirely new meaning to my life—I feel that everything will be different now. I shall give up all my life to trying to be more worthy of you——” The figure gave a sudden snort and Robert started. “Glor! Are you ill?” [Pg 197] The figure hastily emitted a deep groan. Robert sprang up. “Glor,” he cried in distress. “I’ll get you some water. I’ll call a doctor. I’ll——” He fled into the house, where he got a glass of water and actually found a doctor—a very unhappy doctor in a hired Italian costume that was too small for him. When he found the seat empty he turned upon Robert indignantly. “But she was here,” said the bewildered Robert. “I left her here in the most awful agony. My God, if she’s dead.” “If she’s dead,” said the doctor coldly, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything. I’m sorry to seem unsympathetic, but if you knew the pain it causes me to walk in these clothes you’d understand my saying that I’ll let the whole world die in awful agony before I come out here again on your wild goose chase after dying females.” Robert was hunting distractedly under all the bushes around the seat.... ****** The Outlaws had changed their clothes. They stood arrayed as Brigands in all the glory of coloured scarves and handkerchiefs and murderous-looking weapons. Upon the floor lay the limp outer coating of the Page, the Ace of Clubs, the Gondolier and the Goat Herd. They leapt with joy and brandished kitchen choppers and bread knives and trowels. “Now what’re we going to do?” said Ginger. “Everyone else is dancing,” suggested Douglas mildly. “Dancing!” repeated William scornfully. “D’you think we’ve put these things on to dance?” “Well, what’re we goin’ to do?” said Ginger. “There’s one thing we mus’ do first of all,” said William. He spoke in his leader’s manner and his[Pg 198] freckled face was stern. “There’s a man here dressed as a tor—as a bull killer.” “A Toreador,” said Douglas with an air of superior knowledge. William looked at him crushingly. “Well—din’ I say that?” he said, then turning to the others. “Well, this man, this torrydoor man’s been starvin’ folks an’ killin’ ’em. I heard my father say so. Well, we’ve gotter do something—we may never get a chance of gettin’ him again. He’s a starver an’ a murderer, I heard my father say so, an’ we’ve gotter do something to him.” “How?” said the Brigands. “Well, you listen to me,” said William. The Brigands gathered round. ****** William crept round the outside of the ballroom. Through the open window came the sound of the band, and looking in, William could see couples of gaily dancing youths and maidens in fantastic dresses. Near one open window Henry V stood with a small and dainty Columbine. “But it is my dance with you, Glor,” Henry V was saying hoarsely. “I wrote to you and asked you, and oh, I’m so glad that you’re better. I’ve been through hours of agony thinking you were dead.” “You’re absolutely mad,” Glory replied impatiently. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You never wrote and you’ve never asked me for a dance. I’ve never seen you all evening till this minute, except in the distance with everyone trying to pull your head off. You shouldn’t come in a costume like that if you don’t know how to open and shut it, and now you suddenly come and begin to talk nonsense about me being dead.” “Glor——” [Pg 199] “I wish you’d stop calling me by that silly name.” “But—Glor—Glory—you must have got my note. You were in the rose garden. You let me put my arm round you. I’ve been treasuring the memory all evening when I wasn’t racked with agony at the thought of you being ill—or dead.” “I never met you in the rose garden. You’re mad!” “I’m not. You did. Oh, Glor——” “Stop calling me that. It sounds like a patent medicine or a new kind of metal polish ... and as you don’t care for me enough to get a dance in decent time, and as you go mooning about the garden with other girls—girls who seem to go dying all over the place from your account—and pretend you think they’re me——” “I didn’t pretend. I thought it was. It must have been. Oh, Glor——” “Stop saying that! I’ve simply finished with you. Well, if you don’t care about me enough to know who is me and—thank you, when I want to die I’ll do it at home and not in a beastly old rose garden—so there—And I’ve finished with you, Robert Brown,—so there.” Columbine flounced off and Henry V, pale and distraught, pursued her with a ghostly, “Oh, Glor——” The Brigand passed on, a faint smile on his face. ****** The Toreador had found a quiet corner in the empty smoking-room and was relaxing his weary limbs in an arm chair. He had indulged in a quiet smoke and was now indulging in a quiet doze.... He did not like dancing. He did not like wearing fancy dress. He did not like the Botts. He did not like the noise of the band. He did not like anything.... He opened his eyes with a start, conscious of an alien presence. By his side he saw a small and very[Pg 200] villainous-looking Brigand with a stern freckled face, a row of gardening tools and a carving knife round his waist and a red handkerchief tied round his head. “There’s a Russian wants to see you,” said the Brigand in a dramatic whisper, “he’s waiting for you in the coach-house. He’s gotter message for you from the Russians—private.” The Toreador sat up and rubbed his eyes. The Brigand was still there. “Please say it again,” said the Toreador. “There’s a Russian wants to see you. He’s waiting for you in the coach-house. He’s gotter message for you from the Russians,” repeated the Brigand. “Where did you say he was?” said the Toreador. “In the coach-house.” “And what do you say he’s got?” “A message from the Russians.” “What Russians?” “All the Russians.” “Good Lord!” said the Toreador. “Just pinch me, will you?” William obeyed without a flicker of expression upon his face. “Still here,” said the Toreador in a resigned tone of voice. “I thought it might be a nightmare. Well, there’s no harm in going to see. What’s he like?” “Oh—just like a Russian,” said William vaguely. “Russian clothes an’ Russian face an’—an’—Russian boots.” “How did he get here?” “Walked,” said William calmly. “Walked all the way from Russia.” “Does he speak English?” “No. Russian.” “How do you know what he says then?” “I learn Russian at school,” said William with admirable presence of mind. [Pg 201] “You’re a linguist,” commented the Toreador. “No, I’m not,” corrected William, “I’m English like you.” They were on the way to the coach-house. “I may as well see it through,” said the Toreador. “It’s so intriguing. It’s like Alice in Wonderland. A Russian brought a message from all the Russians and walked all the way from Russia. He must have started when he was quite a child. It’s better than being bored to death watching idiots making still greater idiots of themselves.” “This is the coach-house,” said the Brigand. “It’s dark.” “Yes,” said the Brigand. “He’s right in the corner over there. He’s just having a little sleep.” The Toreador stepped into the coach-house. The door was immediately slammed and bolted from outside. The Toreador took out his pocket torch and looked round the room. It was empty. No Russian in Russian boots, etc., with a message from all the Russians slept in a corner. The only means of exit were the door and a barred window. He went to the barred window. Four small stern Brigands stood outside. “I say,” said the Toreador. “Look here——” The freckled frowning Brigand who had led him there spoke. “We’re not going to let you out,” he said, “till you’ve promised to go away from England and never come back.” “But why?” said the Toreador. “Why should I? I know it’s all a dream. But just tell me why I should, anyway.” “Because you’re starvin’ an’ killin’ folks,” said the Brigand sternly. “You’re ruinin’ the country.” “I do hope I remember all this when I wake up,” said the Toreador, “it’s too priceless. But look here [Pg 203]—if you don’t let me out I’ll kick the door down. I’ve never starved anyone and I’ve never killed anyone, and I——” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/fig30.jpg" alt="" /> “I SAY,” SAID THE TOREADOR, “IF YOU DON’T LET ME OUT I’LL KICK THE DOOR DOWN.” </div> “We don’ want to argue,” said William remembering a frequent remark of his father’s and trying to imitate his tone of voice, “but we’re not goin’ to let you out till you promise to go out of England and never come back.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/fig31.jpg" alt="" /> “WE’RE NOT GOING TO LET YOU OUT,” SAID WILLIAM, “TILL YOU PROMISE TO GO OUT OF ENGLAND, AND NEVER COME BACK.” </div> [Pg 204] With that the Brigands turned and went slowly back to the house. The sound of a mighty kick against the coach-house door followed them into the night. “What we goin’ to do now,” said Ginger. “Oh, jus’ look round a bit,” said William. Again they went round the outside of the house passing by each open window. Just inside one sat Henry V with a very demure Spring. “I can’t tell you what a difference it’s made to me getting to know you——” Henry V was saying. By another a group of people stood around a—Yes—the Brigands rubbed their eyes, but there he was—a Toreador. A tall angular Helen of Troy well past her first youth and quite obviously never having possessed a face that could launch a thousand ships, was sitting in the window recess with an emaciated Henry VIII. “Look,” she was saying, “that Toreador’s Lord Merton—on the Cabinet you know, quite important.” The Brigands gaped at each other. A few minutes later Helen of Troy looking down saw a small meek boy dressed in a sort of pirate’s costume sitting by her. “Please,” he said politely, “Would you kin’ly tell me who that man in a bull fighter’s dress is.” “That’s Lord Merton, dear,” said Helen of Troy kindly. “He’s in the Cabinet. Do you know what that means?” “Then is there—are there two Toreadors?” “Yes. The other’s Mr. Jocelyn. He’s a writer, I believe. Nobody important.” “We’ve took the wrong one,” said William in a hoarse whisper, as he rejoined the Brigands, “There was two.” “Crumbs!” said the Brigands aghast. “What we goin’ to do now?” said Ginger. William was not one to relinquish a task half done. “We’ll have to put this one in an’ let the other out,” he said. [Pg 205] A few minutes later the Toreador came out on to the lawn smoking a cigar. “If you please,” said a miniature Brigand, who seemed to rise up from the ground at his feet, “Some one wants to see you special. He says he’s a German with a message quite private. He doesn’t want anyone else to know.” “Ha!” snorted the Toreador throwing away his cigar. “Show me, boy.” He followed William to the coach-house. The other Brigands came behind athrill for whatever would happen. William flung open the door of the coach-house. The second Toreador entered. The first Toreador, who had by this time completely lost sight of any humorous aspect the affair might previously have had in his eyes, and had worked himself up into a blind fury, sprang upon the second Toreador as he entered and threw him to the ground. The second Toreador pulled the first down with him, and they fought fiercely in the dark upon the floor of the coach-house, with inarticulate bellows of rage and rendings of clothes and hurling of curses.... ****** Aghast, and apprehensive of consequences, the Brigands turned and went quickly towards the house so as to be as far as possible from the scene of the crime. But all was changed at the house. There was no dancing. The band was mute. In the middle of the ballroom was a little heap of clothes, a Page’s costume, an Ace of Clubs costume, a Gondolier’s costume, and a Goat Herd’s costume, and over it stood four distraught mothers. Mrs. Brown was almost hysterical. The guests stood in wondering groups around. “The clothes have been found near the lake,” sobbed Mrs. Brown. “There’s no trace of them anywhere,” sobbed Ginger’s mother. [Pg 206] “The grounds have been searched.” “They’re nowhere in the house.” “They must have taken off their clothes to swim.” “And they’re drowned.” “Drowned.” “Now don’t take on,” said Mrs. Bott soothingly to the distraught mothers, “don’t take on so, dearies. Botty’ll have the lake dragged at once. There’s nothing to worry about.” The mothers went down to the lake followed by the whole assembly. The Brigands, feeling that the situation had got far beyond their control, followed cautiously in the rear keeping well in the shadow of the bushes. It was bright moonlight. All the guests stood round the lake gazing with mournful anticipation at its calm surface. The mothers clung to each other sobbing. “He was always such a good boy,” sobbed Mrs. Brown. “And he looked so sweet in his little blue suit.” Henry V, with one arm round Spring, was leaning over the lake and vaguely fishing in it with a garden rake that he had picked up near by. “You didn’t know him, of course,” he said to Spring, “but he was such a dear little chap and so fond of me.” Then the Toreadors arrived, torn and battered and cobwebby and grimy. “Where are they?” they panted as they ran. “We’ve been insulted. We’ve been outraged. We’ve been shamefully treated. We demand those boys. We—ah!” They caught sight of four Brigands cowering behind the bushes, and sprang at them. The Brigands fled from them towards the lake. Henry V and Spring blocked William’s way. He pushed them on to one side, and both fell with a splash into the lake. Then the guests and fate closed round the Brigands. [Pg 207] In the scene of retribution that followed Robert showed himself unsympathetic, even glorying in William’s afflictions.... For a whole week after the fancy dress dance Robert repeatedly proclaimed that William had spoilt his life again. “She’ll never look at me now, of course,” he said bitterly to his mother. “How could she look at the brother of the boy who nearly drowned her. And the only girl I’ve ever met who really understood me. And her mother says she’s had a cold in her head ever since.” “What was her name? Glory something, wasn’t it, dear?” “No, Mother,” impatiently, “That’s a girl I knew ever so long ago, and who never really understood me. This one——” William entered and Robert stopped abruptly. “How do you like those new socks I made for you, dear?” said his mother to William. “Are they all right?” William felt that his hour had come. He’d had a rotten time but he was going to do just a little scoring on his own. “Yes,” said William slowly, “and just to think that this time last week I didn’t know them. They’ve given an entirely new meaning to my life. I shall give up all my life trying to be more worthy of them. I’ve not got them on now because I don’t want them profaned by people who don’ know or care about them——” Then William gave a little groan and flopped into a chair in a fainting position. “William,” said Mrs. Brown, “What ever’s the matter with you?” But Robert had gone a deep purple and was creeping quickly from the room. William watched him, smoothing back his unsmoothable hair. “Oh, Glor!” he ejaculated softly. <hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" /> [Pg 208] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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