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Pussy!’
    The cat gazed at him in surprise. This form of address from William was unusual.
    ‘Good ole Pussy!’ went on William feverishly. ‘Shut up, then. Here’s some nice blancmange. Just have a bit. Go on, have a bit an shut up.’
    He put the dish down on the larder floor before the cat, and the cat, after a few preliminary licks, decided that it was good. William sat watching for a bit. Then he came to the conclusion that
it was no use wasting time, and began to sample the plates around him. He ate a whole jelly, and then took four sandwiches off each plate, and four cakes and pasties off each plate. He had learnt
wisdom since the last party. Meanwhile, the cat licked away at the cream blancmange with every evidence of satisfaction. It even began to purr, and as its satisfaction increased so did the purr. It
possessed a peculiar penetrating purr.
    ‘Cook!’ called out Emma from the kitchen.
    Cook came out of the library where she was assisting with the festoon hanging. ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘There’s a funny buzzing noise in the larder.’
    ‘Well, go in and see what it is. It’s probably a wasp, that’s all.’
    Emma approached with the key, and William, clasping the blancmange to his bosom, withdrew behind the door, slipping off his shoes in readiness for action.
    ‘Poor Puss!’ said Emma, opening the door and meeting the cat’s green, unabashed gaze. ‘Did it get shut up in the nasty dark larder, then? Who did it then?’
    She was bending down with her back to William, stroking the cat in the doorway. William seized his chance. He dashed past her and up the stairs in stockinged feet like a flash of lightning. But
Emma, leaning over the cat, had espied a dark flying figure out of the corner of her eye. She set up a scream. Out of the library came William’s mother, William’s sister,
William’s brother and Cook.
    ‘A burglar in the larder!’ gasped Emma. ‘I seed ’im, I did! Out of the corner of my eye, like, and when I looked up ’e wasn’t there no more. Flittin’ up
the ’all like a shadder, ’e was. Oh, lor! It’s fairly turned me inside! Oh, lor!’
    ‘What rubbish!’ said William’s mother. ‘Emma, you must control yourself.’
    ‘I went into the larder myself, ’m,’ said Cook indignantly, ‘just before I came in to ’elp with the greenery ornaments, and it was hempty as – hair.
It’s all that silly Emma! Always ’avin’ the jumps she is—’
    ‘Where’s William?’ said William’s mother with sudden suspicion. ‘William!’
    William came out of his bedroom and looked over the balusters.
    ‘Yes, Mother,’ he said, with that wondering innocence of voice and look which he had brought to a fine art, and which proved one of his greatest assets in times of stress and
strain.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Jus’ readin’ quietly in my room, Mother.’
    ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t disturb him, then,’ said William’s sister.
    ‘It’s those silly books you read, Emma. You’re always imagining things. If you’d read the ones I recommend instead of the foolish ones you will get hold
of—’
    William’s mother was safely mounted on one of her favourite hobby horses. William withdrew to his room and carefully concealed the cream blancmange beneath his bed. He then waited till he
heard the guests arrive and exchange greetings in the hall. William, listening with his door open, carefully committed to memory the voice and manner of his sister’s greeting to her friends.
That would come in useful later on, probably. No weapon of offence against the world in general and his own family in particular, was to be despised. He held a rehearsal in his room when the guests
were all safely assembled in the drawing-room.
    ‘Oh, how are you, Mrs Green?’ he said in a high falsetto, meant to represent the feminine voice. ‘And how’s the darling baby? Such a duck! I’m
dying to see him again! Oh, Delia, darling! There you are! So glad you could