Just William Part 20

He waited till the Friday before he gave his invitations with a casual air.

"My folks is goin' away to-morrow an' they said I could have a few fren's in to tea. Can you come? Tell your mother they said jus' to come an' not bother to write."

He was a born strategist. Not one of his friends' parents guessed the true state of affairs. When William's conscience (that curious organ) rose to reproach him, he said to it firmly:

"He _said_ I could. He said '_Yes_, of course.' He said '_Yes_, I did.'"

He asked them _all_. He thought that while you are having a party you might as well have a big one. He hinted darkly at unrestrained joy and mirth. They all accepted the invitation.

William's mother took an anxious farewell of him on Sat.u.r.day morning.

"You don't mind being left, darling, do you?"

"No, mother," said William with perfect truth.

"You won't do anything we've told you not to, will you?"

"No, mother. Only things you've said 'yes' to."

Cook and Jane had long looked forward to this day. There would be very little to do in the house and as far as William was concerned they hoped for the best.

William was out all the morning. At lunch he was ominously quiet and polite. Jane decided to go with her young man to the pictures.

Cook said she didn't mind being left, as "that Master William" had gone out and there seemed to be no prospect of his return before tea-time.

So Jane went to the pictures.

About three o'clock the postman came and cook went to the door for the letters. Then she stood gazing down the road as though transfixed.

William had collected his guests en route. He was bringing them joyfully home with him. Clean and starched and prim had they issued from their homes, but they had grown hilarious under William's benign influence.

They had acquired sticks and stones and old tins from the ditches as they came along. They perceived from William's general att.i.tude towards it that it was no ordinary party. They were a happy crowd. William headed them with a trumpet.

They trooped in at the garden gate. Cook, pale and speechless, watched them. Then her speechlessness departed.

"You're not coming in here!" she said fiercely. "What've you brought all those boys cluttering up the garden?"

"They've come to tea," said William calmly.

She grew paler still.

"That they've _not_!" she said fiercely. "What your father'd say----"

"He _said_ they could come," said William. "I asked him an' he said 'Yes, of course,' an' I asked if he'd said so an' he said 'Yes, I did.'

That's what he said 'cause of English Grammar an' wot Miss Jones said."

Cook's answer was to slam the door in his face and lock it. The thirty guests were slightly disconcerted, but not for long.

"Come on!" shouted William excitedly. "She's the enemy. Let's storm her ole castle."

The guests' spirits rose. This promised to be infinitely superior to the usual party.

They swarmed round to the back of the house. The enemy had bolted the back door and was fastening all the windows. Purple with fury she shook her fist at William through the drawing-room window. William brandished his piece of stick and blew his trumpet in defiant reply. The army had armed itself with every kind of weapon, including the raspberry-canes whose careful placing was the result of a whole day's work of William's father. William decided to climb up to the balcony outside Ethel's open bedroom window with the help of his n.o.ble band. The air was full of their defiant war-whoops. They filled the front garden, trampling on all the rose beds, cheering William as he swarmed up to the balcony, his trumpet between his lips. The enemy appeared at the window and shut it with a bang, and William, startled, dropped down among his followers.

They raised a hoa.r.s.e roar of anger.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY TROOPED IN AT THE GARDEN GATE. COOK, PALE AND SPEECHLESS, WATCHED THEM.]

"Mean ole cat!" shouted the enraged general.

The blood of the army was up. No army of thirty strong worthy of its name could ever consent to be worsted by an enemy of one. All the doors and windows were bolted. There was only one thing to be done. And this the general did, encouraged by loyal cheers from his army. "Go it, ole William! Yah! He--oo--o!"

The stone with which William broke the drawing-room window fell upon a small occasional table, scattering Mrs. Brown's cherished silver far and wide.

William, with the born general's contempt for the minor devastations of war, enlarged the hole and helped his gallant band through with only a limited number of cuts and scratches. They were drunk with the thrill of battle. They left the garden with its wreck of rose trees and its trampled lawn and crowded through the broken window with imminent danger to life and limb. The enemy was shutting the small window of the coal-cellar, and there William imprisoned her, turning the key with a loud yell of triumph.

The party then proceeded.

It fulfilled the expectations of the guests that it was to be a party unlike any other party. At other parties they played "Hide and Seek"--with smiling but firm mothers and aunts and sisters stationed at intervals with damping effects upon one's spirits, with "not in the bedrooms, dear," and "mind the umbrella stand," and "certainly not in the drawing-room," and "don't shout so loud, darling." But this was Hide and Seek from the realms of perfection. Up the stairs and down the stairs, in all the bedrooms, sliding down the bal.u.s.ters, in and out of the drawing-room, leaving trails of muddy boots and shattered ornaments as they went!

Ginger found a splendid hiding-place in Robert's bed, where his boots left a perfect impression of their muddy soles in several places. Henry found another in Ethel's wardrobe, crouching upon her satin evening shoes among her evening dresses. George banged the drawing-room door with such violence that the handle came off in his hand. Douglas became entangled in the dining-room curtain, which yielded to his struggles and descended upon him and an old china bowl upon the sideboard. It was such a party as none of them had dreamed of; it was bliss undiluted. The house was full of shouting and yelling, of running to and fro of small boys mingled with subterranean murmurs of cook's rage. Cook was uttering horrible imprecations and hurling lumps of coal at the door. She was Irish and longed to return to the fray.

It was William who discovered first that it was tea-time and there was no tea. At first he felt slightly aggrieved. Then he thought of the larder and his spirits rose.

"Come on!" he called. "All jus' get what you can."

They trooped in, panting, shouting, laughing, and all just got what they could.

Ginger seized the remnants of a cold ham and picked the bone, George with great gusto drank a whole jar of cream, William and Douglas between them ate a gooseberry pie, Henry ate a whole currant cake. Each foraged for himself. They ate two bowls of cold vegetables, a joint of cold beef, two pots of honey, three dozen oranges, three loaves and two pots of dripping. They experimented upon lard, onions, and raw sausages. They left the larder a place of gaping emptiness. Meanwhile cook's voice, growing hoa.r.s.er and hoa.r.s.er as the result of the inhalation of coal dust and exhalation of imprecations, still arose from the depths and still the door of the coal-cellar shook and rattled.

Then one of the guests who had been in the drawing-room window came back.

"She's coming home!" he shouted excitedly.

They flocked to the window.

Jane was bidding a fond farewell to her young man at the side gate.

"Don't let her come in!" yelled William. "Come on!"

With a smile of blissful reminiscence upon her face, Jane turned in at the gate. She was totally unprepared for being met by a shower of missiles from upper windows.

A lump of lard hit her on the ear and knocked her hat on to one side.

She retreated hastily to the side gate.

"Go on! Send her into the road."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SHOWER OF ONIONS, THE HAM BONE, AND A FEW POTATOES PURSUED HER INTO THE ROAD.]

A shower of onions, the ham bone, and a few potatoes pursued her into the road. Shouts of triumph rent the air. Then the shouts of triumph died away abruptly. William's smile also faded away, and his hand, in the act of flinging an onion, dropped. A cab was turning in at the front gate. In the sudden silence that fell upon the party, cook's hoa.r.s.e cries for vengeance rose with redoubled force from the coal cellar.