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

into his mouth and wandered round aimlessly to the front of the house. His grown-up sister, Ethel, was at the front door, shaking hands with a young man.

“I’ll do all I can for you,” she was saying earnestly.

Their hands were clasped.

“I know you will,” he said equally earnestly.

Both look and handclasp were long. The young man walked away. Ethel stood at the door, gazing after him, with a faraway look in her eyes. William was interested.

“That was Jack Morgan, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” said Ethel absently and went into the house.

The look, the long handclasp, the words lingered in William’s memory. They must be jolly fond of each other, like people are when they’re engaged, but he knew they weren’t engaged. P’raps they were too proud to let each other know how fond they were of each other⁠—like the man and girl at the pictures. Ethel wanted a brother like the one in the pictures to let the man know she was fond of him. Then a light came suddenly into William’s mind and he stood, deep in thought.

Inside the drawing-room, Ethel was talking to her mother.

“He’s going to propose to her next Sunday. He told me about it because I’m her best friend, and he wanted to ask me if I thought he’d any chance. I said I thought he had, and I said I’d try and prepare her a little and put in a good word for him if I could. Isn’t it thrilling?”

“Yes, dear. By the way, did you see William anywhere? I do hope he’s not in mischief.”

“He was in the front garden a minute ago.” She went to the window. “He’s not there now, though.”

William had just arrived at Mr. Morgan’s house.

The maid showed him into Mr. Morgan’s sitting-room.

“Mr. Brown,” she announced.

The young man rose to receive his guest with politeness not unmixed with bewilderment. His acquaintance with William was of the slightest.

“Good afternoon,” said William. “I’ve come from Ethel.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” William fumbled in his pocket and at last drew forth a rosebud, slightly crushed by its close confinement in the company of the Gooseberry Eyes, a penknife, a top and a piece of putty.

“She sent you this,” said William gravely.

Mr. Morgan gazed at it with the air of one who is sleepwalking.

“Yes? Er⁠—very kind of her.”

“Kinder keepsake. Souveneer,” explained William.

“Yes. Er⁠—any message?”

“Oh, yes. She wants you to come in and see her this evening.”

“Er⁠—yes. Of course. I’ve just come from her. Perhaps she remembered something she wanted to tell me after I’d gone.”

“P’raps.”

Then, “Any particular time?”

“No. ’Bout seven, I expect.”

“Oh, yes.”

Mr. Morgan’s eyes were fixed with a fascinated wondering gaze upon the limp, and by no means spotless, rosebud.

“You say she⁠—sent this?”

“Yes.”

“And no other message?”

“No.”

“Er⁠—well, say I’ll come with pleasure, will you?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Then, “She thinks an awful lot of you, Ethel does.”

Mr. Morgan passed a hand over his brow.

“Yes? Kind⁠—er⁠—very kind, I’m sure.”

“Always talkin’ about you in her sleep,” went on William, warming to his theme. “I sleep in the next room and I can hear her talkin’ about you all night. Jus’ sayin’ your name over and over again. ‘Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan.’ ” William’s voice was husky and soulful. “Jus’ like that⁠—over an’ over again. ‘Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan.’ ”

Mr. Morgan was speechless. He sat gazing with horror-stricken face at his young visitor.

“Are you⁠—sure?” he said at last. “It might be someone else’s name.”

“No, ’tisn’t,” said William firmly. “It’s yours. ‘Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan, Jack Morgan’⁠—jus’ like that. An’ she eats just nothin’ now. Always hangin’ round the windows to watch you pass.”

The perspiration stood out in beads on Mr. Morgan’s brow.

“It’s⁠—horrible,” he said at last in a hoarse whisper.

William was gratified. The young man had at last realised his cruelty. But William never liked to leave a task half done. He still sat on and calmly and silently considered his next statement. Mechanically he put a hand into his pocket and conveyed a Gooseberry Eye to his mouth. Mr. Morgan also sat in silence with a stricken look upon his face, gazing into vacancy.

“She’s got your photo,” said William at last, “fixed up into one of those little round things on a chain round her neck.”

“Are⁠—you⁠—sure?” said Mr. Morgan desperately.

“Sure’s fate,” said William rising. “Well, I’d better be goin’. She pertic-ler wants to see you alone tonight. Goodbye.”

But Mr. Morgan did not answer. He sat huddled up in his chair staring in front of him long after William had gone jauntily on his way. Then he moistened his dry lips.

“Good Lord,” he groaned.

William was thinking of the pictures as he went home. That painter one was jolly good. When they all got all over paint! And when they all fell downstairs! William suddenly guffawed out loud at the memory. But what had the painter chap been doing at the very beginning before he began to paint? He’d been getting off the old paint with a sort of torch thing and a knife, then he began putting the new paint on. Just sort of melting the old paint and then scraping it off. William had never seen it done in real life, but he supposed that was the way you did get old paint off. Melting it with some sort of fire, then scraping it off. He wasn’t sure whether it was that, but he could find out. As he entered the house he took his penknife from his pocket, opened it thoughtfully, and went upstairs.

Mr. Brown came home about dinnertime.

“How’s your head, father?” said Ethel sympathetically.

“Rotten!” said Mr. Brown, sinking wearily into an armchair.

“Perhaps dinner will do it good,” said Mrs. Brown, “it ought to be ready now.”

The housemaid entered the room.

“Mr. Morgan, mum. He wants to see Miss Ethel. I’ve shown him into the library.”

“Now?” exploded Mr. Brown. “What the deu⁠—why the dickens is the young idiot coming at this time of day? Seven o’clock! What time does he think we have dinner? What does he mean by coming round paying calls on people at dinner time? What⁠—”

“Ethel, dear,” interrupted Mrs. Brown, “do go and see what he wants and get rid of him as soon as