Read Online William The Conqueror by Richmal Crompton - Free Book Online
Authors: Richmal Crompton
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William now, Ginger.’
‘All right, you call me Saint Ginger.’
‘All right, I’m goin’ to – Saint Ginger—’
‘Saint William.’
‘All right.’
‘Well, where you goin’ to sell the slippers?’
‘ Brother slippers,’ corrected William. ‘Well, I’m goin’ to sell brother slippers at Mr Marsh’s ’f he’ll buy ’em.’
‘An I’ll take brother ties along, too,’ said Ginger. ‘An’ Henry take brother gloves, an’ Douglas brother inkstand.’
‘ Sister inkstand,’ said Douglas. ‘William—’
‘Saint William,’ corrected William, patiently.
‘Well, Saint William said we could call things brother or sister, an’ my inkstand’s goin’ to be sister.’
‘ Swank! ’ said St Ginger severely, ‘always wanting to be diff’rent from other people!’
Mr Marsh kept a second-hand shop at the end of the village. In his window reposed side by side a motley collection of battered and despised household goods.
He had a less optimistic opinion of the value of brothers slippers and ties and gloves and sister inkstand than the saints.
He refused to allow them more than sixpence each.
‘ Mean! ’ exploded St William indignantly as soon as they had emerged from Mr Marsh’s dingy little sanctum to the village street and the light of day. ‘I call him
sim’ly mean. That’s what I call him.’
‘I s’pose now we’re saints,’ said St Ginger piously, ‘that we’ve gotter forgive folks what wrong us like that.’
‘I’m not goin’ to be that sort of a saint,’ said St William firmly.
Back at the barn they donned their dressing-gowns, St Henry still grumbling at not being able to wear the ‘little hoop’ on his head.
‘Now what d’we do first ?’ said St Ginger energetically, as he fastened the belt of his dressing-gown.
‘Well, anyway, why can’t we cut little bits of our hair at the top like they have in pictures?’ said St Henry disconsolately, ‘that’d be better than nothin ’.’
This idea rather appealed to the saints. St Douglas discovered a penknife and began to operate at once on St Henry, but the latter saint’s yells of agony soon brought the proceedings to a
premature end.
‘Well, you s’gested it,’ said St Douglas, rather hurt, ‘an’ I was doin’ it as gently as I could.’
‘ Gently! ’ groaned Henry, still nursing his saintly head. ‘You were tearing it out by the roots.’
‘Well, come on !’ said St Ginger impatiently, ‘let’s begin now. What did you say we were goin’ to do first?’
‘Preachin’ to animals is the first thing,’ said William in his most business-like manner. ‘I’ve got Brother Jumble here. Ginger – I mean St Ginger, you hold
Brother Jumble while I preach to him ’cause he’s not used to it, an’ he might try to run away, an’ St Henry an’ St Douglas go out an’ preach to birds. The St
Francis man did a lot of preachin’ to birds. They came an’ sat on his arms. See if you can gettem to do that. Well now, let’s start. Ginger – I mean St Ginger – you
catch hold of Brother Jumble.’
Henry and Douglas departed. Douglas’s dressing-gown, made by a thrifty mother with a view to Douglas’s further growth, was slightly too big and tripped him over every few steps.
Henry’s was made of bath towelling and was rather conspicuous in design. They made their way slowly across a field and into a neighbouring wood.
St Ginger encircled the reluctant Jumble with his arms, and St William stood up to preach.
‘Dearly beloved Jumble—’ he began.
‘Brother Jumble,’ corrected St Ginger, with triumph. He liked to catch the founder of the order tripping.
Jumble, under the delusion that something was expected of him, sat up and begged.
‘Dearly beloved Brother Jumble,’ repeated William. He stopped and cleared his throat in the manner of all speakers who are not sure what to say next.
Jumble, impatient of the other saint’s encircling arms, tried another trick, that of standing on
‘All right, you call me Saint Ginger.’
‘All right, I’m goin’ to – Saint Ginger—’
‘Saint William.’
‘All right.’
‘Well, where you goin’ to sell the slippers?’
‘ Brother slippers,’ corrected William. ‘Well, I’m goin’ to sell brother slippers at Mr Marsh’s ’f he’ll buy ’em.’
‘An I’ll take brother ties along, too,’ said Ginger. ‘An’ Henry take brother gloves, an’ Douglas brother inkstand.’
‘ Sister inkstand,’ said Douglas. ‘William—’
‘Saint William,’ corrected William, patiently.
‘Well, Saint William said we could call things brother or sister, an’ my inkstand’s goin’ to be sister.’
‘ Swank! ’ said St Ginger severely, ‘always wanting to be diff’rent from other people!’
Mr Marsh kept a second-hand shop at the end of the village. In his window reposed side by side a motley collection of battered and despised household goods.
He had a less optimistic opinion of the value of brothers slippers and ties and gloves and sister inkstand than the saints.
He refused to allow them more than sixpence each.
‘ Mean! ’ exploded St William indignantly as soon as they had emerged from Mr Marsh’s dingy little sanctum to the village street and the light of day. ‘I call him
sim’ly mean. That’s what I call him.’
‘I s’pose now we’re saints,’ said St Ginger piously, ‘that we’ve gotter forgive folks what wrong us like that.’
‘I’m not goin’ to be that sort of a saint,’ said St William firmly.
Back at the barn they donned their dressing-gowns, St Henry still grumbling at not being able to wear the ‘little hoop’ on his head.
‘Now what d’we do first ?’ said St Ginger energetically, as he fastened the belt of his dressing-gown.
‘Well, anyway, why can’t we cut little bits of our hair at the top like they have in pictures?’ said St Henry disconsolately, ‘that’d be better than nothin ’.’
This idea rather appealed to the saints. St Douglas discovered a penknife and began to operate at once on St Henry, but the latter saint’s yells of agony soon brought the proceedings to a
premature end.
‘Well, you s’gested it,’ said St Douglas, rather hurt, ‘an’ I was doin’ it as gently as I could.’
‘ Gently! ’ groaned Henry, still nursing his saintly head. ‘You were tearing it out by the roots.’
‘Well, come on !’ said St Ginger impatiently, ‘let’s begin now. What did you say we were goin’ to do first?’
‘Preachin’ to animals is the first thing,’ said William in his most business-like manner. ‘I’ve got Brother Jumble here. Ginger – I mean St Ginger, you hold
Brother Jumble while I preach to him ’cause he’s not used to it, an’ he might try to run away, an’ St Henry an’ St Douglas go out an’ preach to birds. The St
Francis man did a lot of preachin’ to birds. They came an’ sat on his arms. See if you can gettem to do that. Well now, let’s start. Ginger – I mean St Ginger – you
catch hold of Brother Jumble.’
Henry and Douglas departed. Douglas’s dressing-gown, made by a thrifty mother with a view to Douglas’s further growth, was slightly too big and tripped him over every few steps.
Henry’s was made of bath towelling and was rather conspicuous in design. They made their way slowly across a field and into a neighbouring wood.
St Ginger encircled the reluctant Jumble with his arms, and St William stood up to preach.
‘Dearly beloved Jumble—’ he began.
‘Brother Jumble,’ corrected St Ginger, with triumph. He liked to catch the founder of the order tripping.
Jumble, under the delusion that something was expected of him, sat up and begged.
‘Dearly beloved Brother Jumble,’ repeated William. He stopped and cleared his throat in the manner of all speakers who are not sure what to say next.
Jumble, impatient of the other saint’s encircling arms, tried another trick, that of standing on
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