rescued her from robbers and pirates (here he was somewhat
inconsistent with his own favourite role of robber-chief and pirate), and bore her fainting in his strong arms to safety. Then she clung to him in love and gratitude, and they were married at once
by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York.
William would have no half measures. They were to be married by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, or else the Pope. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t rather have the Pope. He
would wear his black pirate suit with the skull and crossbones. No, that would not do—
WILLIAM FELT THE FIRST DART OF THE LITTLE BLIND GOD. HE BLUSHED AND SIMPERED.
‘What have I just been saying, William?’ said Miss Drew.
William coughed and gazed at her soulfully.
‘’Bout lendin’ money?’ he said, hopefully.
‘William!’ she snapped. ‘This isn’t an arithmetic lesson. I’m trying to teach you about the Armada.’
‘Oh, that !’ said William brightly and ingratiatingly ‘Oh, yes.’
‘Tell me something about it.’
‘I don’t know anything – not jus’ yet—’
‘I’ve been telling you about it. I do wish you’d listen,’ she said despairingly.
William relapsed into silence, nonplussed, but by no means cowed.
When he reached home that evening he found that the garden was the scene of excitement and hubbub. One policeman was measuring the panes of glass in the conservatory door, and another was on his
knees examining the beds near. His grown-up sister, Ethel, was standing at the front door.
‘Every single flower has been stolen from the conservatory some time this morning,’ she said excitedly. ‘We’ve only just been able to get the police. William, did you see
anyone about when you went to school this morning?’
William pondered deeply. His most guileless and innocent expression came to his face.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘No, Ethel, I didn’t see nobody.’
William coughed and discreetly withdrew.
That evening he settled down at the library table, spreading out his books around him, a determined frown upon his small face.
His father was sitting in an armchair by the window reading the evening paper.
‘Father,’ said William suddenly, ‘s’pose I came to you an’ said you was to give me a hundred pounds an’ I’d give you five pounds next year an’ so
on, would you give it me?’
‘I should not, my son,’ said his father firmly.
William sighed.
‘I knew there was something wrong with it,’ he said.
Mr Brown returned to the leading article, but not for long.
‘Father, what was the date of the Armada?’
‘Good Heavens! How should I know? I wasn’t there.’
William sighed.
‘Well, I’m tryin’ to write about it and why it failed an’ – why did it fail?’
Mr Brown groaned, gathered up his paper, and retired to the dining-room.
He had almost finished the leading article when William appeared, his arms full of books, and sat down quietly at the table.
‘Father, what’s the French for “my aunt is walking in the garden”?’
‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Mr Brown irritably.
‘I’m doing my home lessons,’ said William virtuously.
‘I never even knew you had the things to do.’
‘No,’ William admitted gently, ‘I don’t generally take much bother over them, but I’m goin’ to now – ’cause Miss Drew’ – he blushed
slightly and paused – ‘’cause Miss Drew’ – he blushed more deeply and began to stammer, ‘’c – ’cause Miss Drew’ – he was almost
apoplectic.
Mr Brown quietly gathered up his paper and crept out to the verandah, where his wife sat with the week’s mending.
‘William’s gone raving mad in the dining-room,’ he said pleasantly, as he sat down. ‘Takes the form of a wild thirst for knowledge, and a babbling of a Miss Drawing, or
Drew, or something. He’s best left alone.’
Mrs Brown merely smiled placidly over the mending.
Mr Brown had finished one leading article and begun another
inconsistent with his own favourite role of robber-chief and pirate), and bore her fainting in his strong arms to safety. Then she clung to him in love and gratitude, and they were married at once
by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York.
William would have no half measures. They were to be married by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, or else the Pope. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t rather have the Pope. He
would wear his black pirate suit with the skull and crossbones. No, that would not do—
WILLIAM FELT THE FIRST DART OF THE LITTLE BLIND GOD. HE BLUSHED AND SIMPERED.
‘What have I just been saying, William?’ said Miss Drew.
William coughed and gazed at her soulfully.
‘’Bout lendin’ money?’ he said, hopefully.
‘William!’ she snapped. ‘This isn’t an arithmetic lesson. I’m trying to teach you about the Armada.’
‘Oh, that !’ said William brightly and ingratiatingly ‘Oh, yes.’
‘Tell me something about it.’
‘I don’t know anything – not jus’ yet—’
‘I’ve been telling you about it. I do wish you’d listen,’ she said despairingly.
William relapsed into silence, nonplussed, but by no means cowed.
When he reached home that evening he found that the garden was the scene of excitement and hubbub. One policeman was measuring the panes of glass in the conservatory door, and another was on his
knees examining the beds near. His grown-up sister, Ethel, was standing at the front door.
‘Every single flower has been stolen from the conservatory some time this morning,’ she said excitedly. ‘We’ve only just been able to get the police. William, did you see
anyone about when you went to school this morning?’
William pondered deeply. His most guileless and innocent expression came to his face.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘No, Ethel, I didn’t see nobody.’
William coughed and discreetly withdrew.
That evening he settled down at the library table, spreading out his books around him, a determined frown upon his small face.
His father was sitting in an armchair by the window reading the evening paper.
‘Father,’ said William suddenly, ‘s’pose I came to you an’ said you was to give me a hundred pounds an’ I’d give you five pounds next year an’ so
on, would you give it me?’
‘I should not, my son,’ said his father firmly.
William sighed.
‘I knew there was something wrong with it,’ he said.
Mr Brown returned to the leading article, but not for long.
‘Father, what was the date of the Armada?’
‘Good Heavens! How should I know? I wasn’t there.’
William sighed.
‘Well, I’m tryin’ to write about it and why it failed an’ – why did it fail?’
Mr Brown groaned, gathered up his paper, and retired to the dining-room.
He had almost finished the leading article when William appeared, his arms full of books, and sat down quietly at the table.
‘Father, what’s the French for “my aunt is walking in the garden”?’
‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Mr Brown irritably.
‘I’m doing my home lessons,’ said William virtuously.
‘I never even knew you had the things to do.’
‘No,’ William admitted gently, ‘I don’t generally take much bother over them, but I’m goin’ to now – ’cause Miss Drew’ – he blushed
slightly and paused – ‘’cause Miss Drew’ – he blushed more deeply and began to stammer, ‘’c – ’cause Miss Drew’ – he was almost
apoplectic.
Mr Brown quietly gathered up his paper and crept out to the verandah, where his wife sat with the week’s mending.
‘William’s gone raving mad in the dining-room,’ he said pleasantly, as he sat down. ‘Takes the form of a wild thirst for knowledge, and a babbling of a Miss Drawing, or
Drew, or something. He’s best left alone.’
Mrs Brown merely smiled placidly over the mending.
Mr Brown had finished one leading article and begun another
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