Read Online William in Trouble by Richmal Crompton - Free Book Online

Brown. Mr Markson took no notice of William. He knew, of course, that there was a small boy in the
room who might or might not be a pupil at his school, but out of school hours Mr Markson ignored all small boys on principle.
    To William suddenly the Chinese image on the little table seemed to dominate the room. It seemed to tower above every other object, not excluding the grandfather clock. It seemed to yell aloud
to its owner: ‘Hi, you! I’m here! I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!’
    Instinctively William stepped in front of the table, placing his small but solid person between the now hateful image and its rightful owner. Standing thus, red-faced with apprehension and
determination, he glared fiercely around the room as though daring anyone to attempt to dislodge him. There was a How-Horatius-kept-the-Bridge air about him.
    Ethel and Mr Markson and Mrs Brown and one of the old ladies sat at the other end of the room and began to discuss animatedly a forthcoming village pageant. The other old lady drifted across to
William and sat down on a chair near him. She pointed kindly to another chair near her.
    ‘Sit down, little boy,’ she said, ‘pray don’t stand, though it’s nice to see a little boy so polite nowadays.’
    William’s scowl deepened.
    ‘I’d rather stand, thanks,’ he said.
    But the old lady persisted.
    ‘No, do sit down,’ she said with a pleasant smile. ‘I want to have a nice long talk with you; I’m so fond of little boys. But you must sit down or I shan’t feel
comfortable.’
    William was disconcerted for a minute, then he recovered his aplomb.
    ‘I – I can’t sit down,’ he said mysteriously.
    The lady gaped at him, amazed.
    ‘Why, dear?’ she said sympathetically.
    ‘I’ve hurt my legs,’ said William with a flash of inspiration. ‘I can’t bend my knees. Not for sitting down. I gotta stand.’
    He scowled at her more ferociously than ever as he spoke.
    ‘My poor little boy,’ said the old lady sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry. Do you have to stand up all the time? What do the doctors say?’
    ‘They say – they say jus’ that,’ said William lamely, ‘that I’ve gotta stand up all the time.’
    ‘But there’s – hope of your being cured, I suppose, dear?’ said the old lady anxiously.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ William reassured her.
    ‘ When do they say you’ll be all right?’ went on the lady earnestly.
    ‘Oh, any time after today,’ said William unthinkingly.
    ‘You can lie down, I suppose?’ said the old lady, evidently much distressed by William’s mysterious complaint.
    ‘Oh yes,’ said William, who by this time had almost convinced himself of the reality of his disease. ‘I can go to bed at night and that sort of thing.’
    ‘Well, dear, won’t you come and lie down now?’ said the old lady. ‘We’ll go over to the window and you can lie down on the sofa and I’ll sit on the chair
near, and we’ll have a nice little talk. It’s so nice over there in the sunshine.’
    William moistened his lips.
    ‘I – I think I won’t move, thank you,’ said William.
    ‘But you can walk, dear, can’t you?’
    ‘Oh, yes, I can walk, but—’ he stopped and gazed around, seeking inspiration from the wallpaper and ceiling.
    ‘It’s so nice and light over there,’ coaxed the old lady.
    Inspiration came again with a flash. William’s face cleared.
    ‘I’m not s’posed to be in the light,’ he said brightly, ‘because I’ve got bad eyes.’

    ‘I’VE HURT MY LEGS,’ SAID WILLIAM, WITH A FLASH OF INSPIRATION. ‘I CAN’T BEND MY KNEES.’
    The old lady gazed at him weakly.
    ‘Bad – bad eyes, did you say?’
    ‘Yes,’ said William pleasantly, relieved to have found another plausible excuse for not relinquishing his post. ‘I can’t stand the light,’ he explained earnestly.
‘I’ve gotta stay in dark places ’cause of my eyes.’
    ‘B-but how terrible,’ said the old lady, horrified to the depth of her kindly old soul. ‘Bad