Just William by Richmal Crompton (funny books to read TXT) 📕

“This ’ere is where you work, and this ’ere,” pointing to a large kitchen, “is where you live. You ’ave not,” he ended haughtily “the hentry into the servants’ ’all.”

“Crumbs!” said William.

“You might has well begin at once,” went on the butler, “there’s all this lunch’s knives to clean. ’Ere’s a hapron, ’ere’s the knife-board an’ ’ere’s the knife-powder.”

He shut the bewildered William into the small pantry and turned to the cook.

“What do you think of ’im?” he said.

“ ’E looks,” said the cook gloomily, “the sort of boy we’ll ’ave trouble with.”

“Not much clarse,” said the housemaid, arranging her frilled apron. “It surprises 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 with knife-powder came round.

“I’ve done some of the knives,” he said, “shall I be doin’ something else 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 deep sigh.

The butler advanced slowly and majestically towards William’s tousled head, 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-maid and a roar of fury from the butler.

“You’d better go an’ do your potatoes in the pantry,” said the cook to the kitchenmaid, “and let’s ’ave a bit of peace in ’ere and see ’e’s doin’ of ’is work all right.”

The kitchenmaid departed joyfully to the pantry.

William was sitting by the table, idly toying with a knife. He had experimented upon the knife powder by mixing it with water, and the little 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. His hair was standing straight up on his head as it always did when life was strenuous. 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 shiploads an’ shiploads of gold. At least, I will have soon. I’m not goin’ to give him,” pointing towards the door, “any, nor any of them in there.”

“Wot about me?” said the kitchenmaid, winking at the cat as the only third person to be let into the joke.

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

The kitchenmaid put her head round the pantry door.

“ ’E’s loony,” she said. “It’s lovely listening to ’im talkin.’ ”

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

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

“Wot was ’e doin’?” said the cook to the kitchenmaid.

“Nothin’⁠—’cept talkin’,” said the kitchenmaid. “ ’E’s a cure, ’e is,” she added.

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

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

The butler returned.

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

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

“Wot’s ’appened to your buttons?” he said sternly.

“Come off,” said William.

“Bust off,” corrected the butler. “I said so soon as I saw you. I said you’d ’ave eat your buttons bust off in a week. Well, you’ve eat ’em bust off in ten minutes.”

“Eatin’ an’ destroyin’ of ’is clothes,” he said gloomily, returning to the kitchen. “It’s all boys ever do⁠—eatin’ an’ destroyin’ of their clothes.”

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

Soon Mr. Biggs and the housemaid returned with the empty soup-plates. Then through the kitchen resounded a high-pitched squeal, dying away slowly and shrilly.

The housemaid screamed.

“Lawks!” said the cook, “someone’s atorchurin’ of the poor cat to death. It’ll be that blessed boy.”

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

The butler approached him.

“If you let off that there thing once more, you little varmint,” he said, “I’ll⁠—”

Threateningly he had advanced his large expanse of countenance very close to William’s. Acting upon a sudden uncontrollable impulse William took up the