Read Online William The Outlaw by Richmal Crompton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richmal Crompton
Ads: Link
comin’ to stay with them an’ they want to sort of show him off,’ he said, translating freely from the
conversation he had overheard the day before, ‘so they’re goin’ to ask everyone to meet him at a garden party.’
‘How’d he get famous?’ said William with mournful interest.
‘Writin’ plays,’ said Henry.
William groaned.
‘He’ll be worse than ever,’ he said, referring not to the writer of plays but to the perfect little gentleman.
The meeting broke up without having arrived at any satisfactory plan, though Henry still cherished the haunting idea and Douglas still considered that something might be done in the pit and wild
beast line.
The next day the famous cousin arrived at the Murdochs’ and was proudly paraded through the village by Georgie resplendent in a new white suit and a smile that was more smug and complacent
than ever. Close observers might have noticed that the famous cousin looked bored.
The next few days, however, were – outside their homes – days of respite for the Outlaws. For Georgie was too busy with the famous cousin to be able to spare any time for the
Outlaws, and the Outlaws could wallow in the mud, climb trees, and turn somersaults in the road to their hearts’ content without hearing the shrill little refrain, ‘Oh, you naughty boys! what will your mothers say . . . I told them not to do it . . . I said you wouldn’t like it.’
I said ‘outside their homes’. For inside their homes things were if possible worse. For the interest of the whole village was, thanks to the visit of the famous cousin, now
concentrated upon the Murdochs.
‘I met little Georgie Murdoch out with his cousin today. He introduced me so nicely. I only wish that I thought you’d ever be half so polite,’ or, ‘I met
little Georgie Murdoch in the village this morning. He’d gone to post a letter for his cousin. He looked so nice and clean. How I wish you could keep like that.’
As the day of the garden party approached the gloom of the Outlaws deepened.
But they knew that no excuses would avail them. They would have to go there and watch Georgie being ‘more sick’nin’ than ever’, as Henry put it, parading his famous
cousin, showing off his beautiful manners and basking in the admiration of all the guests – And after that he’d be more unbearable even than he had been before.
Fate seemed to be on the side of the Murdochs. The day of the garden party was warm and sunny and cloudless so that the garden party (contrary to its English custom) really could be a garden
party and little Georgie could wear one of his white suits.
William set off to the festivity with his mother, engulfed in gloom and his Sunday suit and looking more as if bound for a funeral than a garden party.
They found a large crowd already assembled and in the middle of it was Georgie wearing his newest and whitest suit and smiling his smuggest smile, and with his golden curls glinting in the
sunshine. . . .
‘Isn’t he a dear little boy?’ heard William on all sides, and ‘He’s such a little gentleman,’ and then from his mother the inevitable, ‘I wish you could behave like that, William.’
William looked about him and soon picked out Ginger and Henry and Douglas all in similar plight. Their mothers too were gazing rapturously at Georgie and telling their sons how they wished that
they could ever behave like that or ever look like that or ever speak like that or ever keep as clean and tidy as that. And the Outlaws (who were quite used to it by this time) bore it in scornful
silence.
Then William noticed the famous cousin. He was standing in the background watching Georgie, not with the radiant pleasure with which the mothers watched him, but with an expression more akin to
that with which the Outlaws watched him. This caused William a passing interest which however he soon forgot in his deep passionate loathing of the perfect little gentleman.
Gradually the Outlaws eluded the
conversation he had overheard the day before, ‘so they’re goin’ to ask everyone to meet him at a garden party.’
‘How’d he get famous?’ said William with mournful interest.
‘Writin’ plays,’ said Henry.
William groaned.
‘He’ll be worse than ever,’ he said, referring not to the writer of plays but to the perfect little gentleman.
The meeting broke up without having arrived at any satisfactory plan, though Henry still cherished the haunting idea and Douglas still considered that something might be done in the pit and wild
beast line.
The next day the famous cousin arrived at the Murdochs’ and was proudly paraded through the village by Georgie resplendent in a new white suit and a smile that was more smug and complacent
than ever. Close observers might have noticed that the famous cousin looked bored.
The next few days, however, were – outside their homes – days of respite for the Outlaws. For Georgie was too busy with the famous cousin to be able to spare any time for the
Outlaws, and the Outlaws could wallow in the mud, climb trees, and turn somersaults in the road to their hearts’ content without hearing the shrill little refrain, ‘Oh, you naughty boys! what will your mothers say . . . I told them not to do it . . . I said you wouldn’t like it.’
I said ‘outside their homes’. For inside their homes things were if possible worse. For the interest of the whole village was, thanks to the visit of the famous cousin, now
concentrated upon the Murdochs.
‘I met little Georgie Murdoch out with his cousin today. He introduced me so nicely. I only wish that I thought you’d ever be half so polite,’ or, ‘I met
little Georgie Murdoch in the village this morning. He’d gone to post a letter for his cousin. He looked so nice and clean. How I wish you could keep like that.’
As the day of the garden party approached the gloom of the Outlaws deepened.
But they knew that no excuses would avail them. They would have to go there and watch Georgie being ‘more sick’nin’ than ever’, as Henry put it, parading his famous
cousin, showing off his beautiful manners and basking in the admiration of all the guests – And after that he’d be more unbearable even than he had been before.
Fate seemed to be on the side of the Murdochs. The day of the garden party was warm and sunny and cloudless so that the garden party (contrary to its English custom) really could be a garden
party and little Georgie could wear one of his white suits.
William set off to the festivity with his mother, engulfed in gloom and his Sunday suit and looking more as if bound for a funeral than a garden party.
They found a large crowd already assembled and in the middle of it was Georgie wearing his newest and whitest suit and smiling his smuggest smile, and with his golden curls glinting in the
sunshine. . . .
‘Isn’t he a dear little boy?’ heard William on all sides, and ‘He’s such a little gentleman,’ and then from his mother the inevitable, ‘I wish you could behave like that, William.’
William looked about him and soon picked out Ginger and Henry and Douglas all in similar plight. Their mothers too were gazing rapturously at Georgie and telling their sons how they wished that
they could ever behave like that or ever look like that or ever speak like that or ever keep as clean and tidy as that. And the Outlaws (who were quite used to it by this time) bore it in scornful
silence.
Then William noticed the famous cousin. He was standing in the background watching Georgie, not with the radiant pleasure with which the mothers watched him, but with an expression more akin to
that with which the Outlaws watched him. This caused William a passing interest which however he soon forgot in his deep passionate loathing of the perfect little gentleman.
Gradually the Outlaws eluded the
Similar Books
