Just William - Richmal Crompton (have you read this book .TXT) 📗

every legitimate means, but he was rather aghast at the means suggested. Still⁠—white rats were white rats.

The next morning William assumed his expression of shining virtue⁠—the expression he reserved for special occasions.

“You goin’ shoppin’ this mornin’?” he inquired politely of Ethel.

“You know I am,” said Ethel shortly.

“Shall I come with you to carry parcels an’ things?” said William unctuously.

Ethel looked at him with sudden suspicion.

“What do you want?” she said. “I’m not going to buy you anything.”

William looked pained.

“I don’t want anything,” he said. “I jus’ want to help you, that’s all. I jus’ want to carry your parcels for you. I⁠—I jus’ don’t want you to get tired, that’s all.”

“All right.” Ethel was still suspicious. “You can come and you can carry parcels, but you won’t get a penny out of me.”

They walked down together to the shops, and William meekly allowed himself to be laden with many parcels. Ethel’s grim suspicion passed into bewilderment as he passed toyshop after toyshop without a glance. In imagination he was already teaching complicated tricks to a pair of white rats.

“It’s⁠—it’s awfully decent of you, William,” said Ethel, at last, almost persuaded that she had misjudged William for the greater part of his life. “Do you feel all right? I mean, you don’t feel ill or anything, do you?”

“No,” he said absently, then corrected himself hastily. “At least, not jus’ now. I feel all right jus’ now. I feel as if I might not feel all right soon, but I don’t know.”

Ethel looked anxious.

“Let’s get home quickly. What have you been eating?”

“Nothing,” said William indignantly. “It’s not that sort of not well. It’s quite diff’rent.”

“What sort is it?”

“It’s nuffin’⁠—not jus’ now. I’m all right jus’ now.”

They walked in silence till they had left the road behind and had turned off to the long country road that led to William’s house. Then, slowly and deliberately, still clasping his burden of parcels, William sat down on the ground.

“I can’t walk any more, Ethel,” he said, turning his healthy countenance up to her. “I’m took ill sudden.”

She looked down at him impatiently.

“Don’t be absurd, William,” she said. “Get up.”

“I’m not absurd,” he said firmly. “I’m took ill.”

“Where do you feel ill?”

“All over,” he said guardedly.

“Does your ankle hurt?”

“Yes⁠—an’ my knees an’ all up me. I jus’ can’t walk. I’m took too ill to walk.”

She looked round anxiously.

“Oh, what are we going to do? It’s a quarter of a mile home!”

At that moment there appeared the figure of a tall young man. He drew nearer and raised his hat.

“Anything wrong, Miss Brown?” he said, blushing deeply.

“Just look at William!” said Ethel, pointing dramatically at the small figure seated comfortably in the dust of the road. “He says he can’t walk, and goodness knows what we’re going to do.”

The young man bent over William, but avoided meeting his eyes.

“You feeling ill, my little man?” he said cheerfully.

“Huh!” snorted William. “That’s a nice thing for you to ask when you know you told me⁠—”

The young man coughed long and loud.

“All right,” he said hastily. “Well, let’s see what we can do. Could you get on my back, and then I can carry you home? Give me your parcels. That’s right. No, Miss Brown. I insist on carrying the parcels. I couldn’t dream of allowing you⁠—well, if you’re sure you’d rather. Leave me the big ones, anyway. Now, William, are we ready?”

William clung on behind, nothing loth, and they set off rather slowly down the road. Ethel was overcome with gratitude.

“It is kind of you, Mr. French. I don’t know what we should have done without you. I do hope he’s not fearfully heavy, and I do hope he’s not beginning anything infectious. Do let me take the other parcels. Won’t you, really? Mother will be grateful to you. It’s such a strange thing, isn’t it? I’ve never heard of such a thing before. I’ve always thought William was so strong. I hope it’s not consumption or anything like that. How does consumption begin?”

Mr. French had had no conception of the average weight of a sturdy small boy of eleven. He stumbled along unsteadily.

“Oh, no,” he panted. “Don’t mention it⁠—don’t mention it. It’s a pleasure⁠—really it is. No, indeed you mustn’t take the parcels. You have quite enough already. Quite enough. No, he isn’t a bit heavy. Not a bit. I’m so glad I happened to come by at a moment that I could do you a service. So glad!” He paused to mop his brow. He was breathing very heavily. There was a violent and quite unreasonable hatred of William at his heart.

“Don’t you think you could walk now⁠—just a bit, William?” he said, with a touch of exasperation in his panting voice. “I’ll help you walk.”

“All right,” William acceded readily. “I don’t mind. I’ll lean on you hard, shall I?”

“Do you feel well enough?” said Ethel anxiously.

“Oh, yes. I can walk now, if he wants⁠—I mean if he doesn’t mind me holding on to his arm. I feel as if I was goin’ to be quite all right soon. I’m nearly all right now.”

The three of them walked slowly up the drive to the Brown’s house, William leaning heavily on the young man’s arm. Mrs. Brown saw them from the window and ran to the door.

“Oh, dear!” she said. “You’ve run over him on your motorcycle. I knew you’d run over somebody soon. I said when I saw you passing on it yesterday⁠—”

Ethel interrupted indignantly.

“Why, Mother, Mr. French has been so kind. I can’t think what I’d have done without him. William was taken ill and couldn’t walk, and Mr. French has carried him all the way from the other end of the road, on his back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! How very kind of you, Mr. French. Do come in and stay to lunch. William, go upstairs to bed at once and I’ll ring up Dr. Ware.”

“No,” said William firmly. “Don’t bother poor Dr. Ware. I’m all right now. Honest I am. He’d be mad to come and find me all right.”

“Of course you must