William Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

experience to that glare of William’s, retired
hastily behind his paper. Then, with a short and bitter laugh, William turned on his heel and left the room. That was the last straw. He’d finished with them. He’d simply finished with
them.
    He put his head in at the window as he went towards the gate.
    ‘I’m goin’ out, Mother,’ he said in a voice which expressed stern sorrow rather than anger.
    ‘All right, dear,’ said Mrs Brown sweetly.
    ‘I may not be coming back – never,’ he added darkly.
    ‘All right, dear,’ said William’s mother.
    William walked with slow dignity down to the gate.
    All I say is,’ he remarked pathetically to the gatepost as he passed, ‘I might as well be dead for all anyone thinks of tryin’ to make my life a bit
happier.’
    He walked down to the village – a prey to black dejection. What people came away for holidays for beat him. At home there was old Jumble to take for a walk and throw sticks for, and the
next-door cat to tease and the butcher’s boy to fight, and various well-known friends and enemies to make life interesting. Here there was – well, all he said was, he might as well be dead.
    A charabanc stood outside the post office, and people were taking their places in it. William looked at it contemptuously. He began to listen in a bored fashion to the conversation of two
young men.
    ‘I’m awfully glad you ran down,’ one of them was saying to the other; ‘we can have a good tramp together. To tell you the truth I’d got so bored that I’d
taken a ticket for this charabanc show . . . Can’t stand ’em really.’
    ‘Will they give you your money back?’ said the other.
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said the first.
    Then he met William’s dark, unflinching gaze and said carelessly, ‘Here, kid, like a ticket for the charabanc trip?’
    William considered the question. Anything that would take him away from the immediate vicinity of his family seemed at that moment desirable.
    ‘Does it come back?’ he said.
    ‘It’s supposed to,’ said the young man.
    That seemed rather a drawback. William felt that he would have preferred to go away from his family on something that did not come back. However, this was better than nothing.
    ‘All right,’ he said graciously, ‘I don’t mind going.’
    The young man handed him the ticket.
    William sat in the middle of a seat between a very fat lady and a very fat gentleman.
    ‘Not much room,’ he remarked bitterly to the world in general.
    The fat lady and the fat gentleman turned crushing glances upon him simultaneously. William received and returned them. He even enlarged upon his statement.
    ‘All I say is ,’ he said pugnaciously, trying to scowl up at both sides at once, ‘that there’s not much room.’
    The fat lady put up lorgnettes and addressed the fat gentleman over William’s head.
    ‘What a very rude little boy!’ she said.
    Being apparently agreed upon that point they became friendly and conversed together for the rest of the journey, ignoring the subterranean rumbles of indignation that came from the small boy
between them.
    At last the charabanc stopped at a country village. The driver explained that the church was an excellent example of Early Norman architecture. This left William cold. He did not even glance at
it. The driver went on to remark that an excellent meal could be obtained at the village inn. Here William’s expression kindled into momentary animation only to fade again into despair. For
William had spent his last twopence that morning upon a stick of liquorice. It had caused a certain amount of friction between himself and his elder brother. William had put it – partially sucked –
upon a chair while he went to wash his hands, and Robert had come in from tennis and inadvertently sat down upon it. Being in a moist condition it had adhered to Robert’s white flannel
trousers. Even when detached the fact of its erstwhile adherence could not be concealed.