More William by Richmal Crompton
CHAPTER X
THE HELPER
The excitement began at breakfast. William descended slightly late,and, after receiving his parents' reproaches with an air of wearyboredom, ate his porridge listlessly. He had come to the conclusionthat morning that there was a certain monotonous sameness about life.One got up, and had one's breakfast, and went to school, and had one'sdinner, and went to school, and had one's tea, and played, and hadone's supper, and went to bed. Even the fact that to-day was ahalf-term holiday did not dispel his depression. _One_ day's holiday!What good was _one_ day? We all have experienced such feelings.
Half abstractedly he began to listen to his elders' conversation.
"They promised to be here by _nine_," his mother was saying. "I dohope they won't be late!"
"Well, it's not much good their coming if the other house isn't ready,is it?" said William's grown-up sister Ethel. "I don't believe they'veeven finished _painting_!"
"I'm so sorry it's William's half-term holiday," sighed Mrs. Brown."He'll be frightfully in the way."
William's outlook on life brightened considerably.
"They comin' removin' this _morning_?" he inquired cheerfully.
"Yes, DO try not to hinder them, William."
"_Me_?" he said indignantly. "I'm goin' to _help_!"
"If William's going to help," remarked his father, "thank Heaven _I_shan't be here. Your assistance, William, always seems to be even moredevastating in its results than your opposition!"
William smiled politely. Sarcasm was always wasted on William.
"Well," he said, rising from the table, "I'd better go an' be gettin'ready to help."
Ten minutes later Mrs. Brown, coming out of the kitchen from herinterview with the cook, found to her amazement that the steps of thefront door were covered with small ornaments. As she stood staringWilliam appeared from the drawing-room staggering under the weight ofa priceless little statuette that had been the property of Mr. Brown'sgreat grandfather.
"WILLIAM!" she gasped.
"I'm gettin' all the little things ready for 'em jus' to carrystraight down. If I put everything on the steps they don't need comeinto the house at all. You _said_ you didn't want 'em trampin' indirty boots!"
It took a quarter of an hour to replace them. Over the fragments of ablue delf bowl Mrs. Brown sighed deeply.
"I wish you'd broken _anything_ but this, William."
"Well," he excused himself, "you said things _do_ get broken removin'.You said so _yourself_! I didn't break it on purpose. It jus' gotbroken removin'."
At this point the removers arrived.
There were three of them. One was very fat and jovial, and one wasthin and harassed-looking, and a third wore a sheepish smile andwalked with a slightly unsteady gait. They made profuse apologies fortheir lateness.
"You'd better begin with the dining-room," said Mrs. Brown. "Will youpack the china first? William, get out of the _way_!"
She left them packing, assisted by William. William carried the thingsto them from the sideboard cupboards.
"What's your names?" he asked, as he stumbled over a glass bowl thathe had inadvertently left on the hearth-rug. His progress was furtherdelayed while he conscientiously picked up the fragments. "Things _do_get broken removin'," he murmured.
"Mine is Mister Blake and 'is is Mister Johnson, and 'is is MisterJones."
"Which is Mr. Jones? The one that walks funny?"
They shook with herculean laughter, so much so that a china cream jugslipped from Mr. Blake's fingers and lay in innumerable pieces roundhis boot. He kicked it carelessly aside.
"Yus," he said, bending anew to his task, "'im wot walks funny."
"Why's he walk funny?" persisted William. "Has he hurt his legs?"
"Yus," said Blake with a wink. "'E 'urt 'em at the Blue Cow comin''ere."
Mr. Jones' sheepish smile broadened into a guffaw.
"Well, you rest," said William sympathetically. "You lie down on thesofa an' rest. _I'll_ help, so's you needn't do _anything_!"
Mr. Jones grew hilarious.
"Come on!" he said. "My eye! This young gent's all _roight_, 'e is.You lie down an' rest, 'e says! Well, 'ere goes!"
To the huge delight of his companions, he stretched himself at lengthupon the chesterfield and closed his eyes. William surveyed him withpleasure.
"That's right," he said. "I'll--I'll show you my dog when your legsare better. I've gotter _fine_ dog!"
"What sort of a dog?" said Mr. Blake, resting from his labours to askthe question.
"He's no _partic'lar_ sort of a dog," said William honestly, "but he'sa jolly fine dog. You should see him do tricks!"
WILLIAM SURVEYED HIM WITH PLEASURE. "I'LL SHOW YOU MYDOG WHEN YOUR LEGS ARE BETTER," HE SAID.]
"Well, let's 'ave a look at 'im. Fetch 'im art."
William, highly delighted, complied, and Jumble showed off his besttricks to an appreciative audience of two (Mr. Jones had alreadysuccumbed to the drowsiness that had long been creeping over him andwas lying dead to the world on the chesterfield).
Jumble begged for a biscuit, he walked (perforce, for William's handfirmly imprisoned his front ones) on his hind legs, he leapt overWilliam's arm. He leapt into the very centre of an old Venetian glassthat was on the floor by the packing-case and cut his foot slightly ona piece of it, but fortunately suffered no ill-effects.
William saw consternation on Mr. Johnson's face and hastened to gatherthe pieces and fling them lightly into the waste-paper basket.
"It's all right," he said soothingly. "She _said_ things get brokenremovin'."
When Mrs. Brown entered the room ten minutes later, Mr. Jones wasstill asleep, Jumble was still performing, and Messrs. Blake andJohnson were standing in negligent attitudes against the wallappraising the eager Jumble with sportsmanlike eyes.
"'E's no breed," Mr. Blake was saying, "but 'e's orl _roight_. I'dloik to see 'im arfter a rat. I bet 'e'd----"
Seeing Mrs. Brown, he hastily seized a vase from the mantel-piece andcarried it over to the packing case, where he appeared suddenly to beworking against time. Mr. Johnson followed his example.
Mrs. Brown's eyes fell upon Mr. Jones and she gasped.
"Whatever--" she began.
"'E's not very well 'm," explained Mr. Blake obsequiously. "'E'll beorl roight when 'e's slep' it orf. 'E's always orl roight when 'e'sslep' 'it orf."
"He's hurt his legs," explained William. "He hurt his legs at the BlueCow. He's jus' _restin'_!"
Mrs. Brown swallowed and counted twenty to herself. It was a practiceshe had acquired in her youth for use in times when words crowded uponher too thick and fast for utterance.
At last she spoke with unusual bitterness.
"Need he rest with his muddy boots on my chesterfield?"
At this point Mr. Jones awoke from sleep, hypnotised out of it by hercold eye.
He was profuse in his apologies. He believed he had fainted. He hadhad a bad headache, brought on probably by exposure to the earlymorning sun. He felt much better after his faint. He regretted havingfainted on to the lady's sofa. He partially brushed off the traces ofhis dirty boots with an equally dirty hand.
"You've done _nothing_ in this room," said Mrs. Brown. "We shall_never_ get finished. William, come away! I'm sure you're hinderingthem."
"Me?" said William in righteous indignation. "_Me?_ I'm _helpin'_!"
After what seemed to Mrs. Brown to be several hours they began on theheavy furniture. They staggered out with the dining-room sideboard,carrying away part of the staircase with it in transit. Mrs. Brown,with a paling face, saw her beloved antique cabinet dismemberedagainst the doorpost, and watched her favourite collapsible card-tableperform a thorough and permanent collapse. Even the hat-stand from thehall was devoid of some pegs when it finally reached the van.
"This is simply breaking my heart," moaned Mrs. Brown.
"Where's William?" said Ethel, gloomily, looking round.
"'Sh! I don't know. He disappeared a few
The removers now proceeded to the drawing-room and prepared to takeout the piano. They tried it every way. The first way took a piece outof the doorpost, the second made a dint two inches deep in the piano,the third knocked over the grandfather clock, which fell with aresounding crash, breaking its glass, and incidentally a tall chinaplant stand that happened to be in its line of descent.
Mrs. Brown sat down and covered her face with her hands.
"It's like some dreadful _nightmare_!" she groaned.
Messrs. Blake, Johnson and Jones paused to wipe the sweat of honesttoil from their brows.
"I dunno _'ow_ it's to be got out," said Mr. Blake despairingly.
"It got in!" persisted Mrs. Brown. "If it got in it can get out."
"We'll 'ave another try," said Mr. Blake with the air of a heroleading a forlorn hope. "Come on, mites."
This time was successful and the piano passed safely into the hall,leaving in its wake only a dislocated door handle and a torn chaircover. It then passed slowly and devastatingly down the hall anddrive.
The next difficulty was to get it into the van. Messrs. Blake, Johnsonand Jones tried alone and failed. For ten minutes they tried alone andfailed. Between each attempt they paused to mop their brows and throwlonging glances towards the Blue Cow, whose signboard was visible downthe road.
The gardener, the cook, the housemaid, and Ethel all gave theirassistance, and at last, with a superhuman effort, they raised it tothe van.
They then all rested weakly against the nearest support and gasped forbreath.
"Well," said Mr. Jones, looking reproachfully at the mistress of thehouse, "I've never 'andled a pianner----"
At this moment a well-known voice was heard in the recesses of thevan, behind the piano and sideboard and hat-stand.
"Hey! let me out! What you've gone blockin' up the van for? I can'tget out!"
There was a horror-stricken silence. Then Ethel said sharply:
"What did you go _in_ for?"
The mysterious voice came again with a note of irritability.
"Well, I was _restin'_. I mus' have some rest, mustn't I? I've beenhelpin' all mornin'."
"Well, couldn't you _see_ we were putting things in?"
The unseen presence spoke again.
"No, I can't. I wasn't lookin'!"
"You can't get out, William," said Mrs. Brown desperately. "We can'tmove everything again. You must just stop there till it's unpacked.We'll try to push your lunch in to you."
There was determination in the voice that answered, "I want to getout! I'm _going_ to get out!"
There came tumultuous sounds--the sound of the ripping of somematerial, of the smashing of glass and of William's voice softlyejaculating "Crumbs! that ole lookin' glass gettin' in the way!"
"You'd better take out the piano again," said Mrs. Brown wanly. "It'sthe only thing to do."
With straining, and efforts, and groans, and a certain amount ofdestruction, the piano was eventually lowered again to the ground.Then the sideboard and hat-stand were moved to one side, and finallythere emerged from the struggle--William and Jumble. Jumble's coat wascovered with little pieces of horsehair, as though from the interiorof a chair. William's jersey was torn from shoulder to hem. He lookedstern and indignant.
WILLIAM'S JERSEY WAS TORN FROM SHOULDER TO HEM. HELOOKED STERN AND INDIGNANT.]
"A nice thing to do!" he began bitterly. "Shuttin' me up in that olevan. How d'you expect me to breathe, shut in with ole bits offurniture. Folks can't live without air, can they? A nice thing ifyou'd found me _dead_!"
Emotion had deprived his audience of speech for the time being.
With a certain amount of dignity he walked past them into the housefollowed by Jumble.
It took another quarter of an hour to replace the piano. As they weremaking the final effort William came out of the house.
"Here, _I'll_ help!" he said, and laid a finger on the side. Hispresence rather hindered their efforts, but they succeeded in spite ofit. William, however, was under the impression that his strength alonehad wrought the miracle. He put on an outrageous swagger.
"I'm jolly strong," he confided to Mr. Blake. "I'm stronger than mostfolk."
Here the removers decided that it was time for their midday repast andretired to consume it in the shady back garden. All except Mr. Jones,who said he would go down the road for a drink of lemonade. Williamsaid that there was lemonade in the larder and offered to fetch it,but Mr. Jones said hastily that he wanted a special sort. He had to bevery particular what sort of lemonade he drank.
Mrs. Brown and Ethel sat down to a scratch meal in the library.William followed his two new friends wistfully into the garden.
"William! Come to lunch!" called Mrs. Brown.
"Oh, leave him alone, Mother," pleaded Ethel. "Let us have a littlepeace."
But William did not absent himself for long.
"I want a red handkerchief," he demanded loudly from the hall.
There was no response.
He appeared in the doorway.
"I say, I want a red handkerchief. Have you gotter red handkerchief,Mother?"
"No, dear."
"Have you Ethel?"
"NO!"
"All right," said William aggrievedly. "You needn't get mad, need you?I'm only askin' for a red handkerchief. I don't want a redhandkerchief off you if you haven't _got_ it, do I?"
"William, go _away_ and shut the door."
William obeyed. Peace reigned throughout the house and garden for thenext half-hour. Then Mrs. Brown's conscience began to prick her.
"William must have something to eat, dear. Do go and find him."
Ethel went out to the back garden. A scene of happy restfulness mether gaze. Mr. Blake reclined against one tree consuming bread andcheese, while a red handkerchief covered his knees. Mr. Johnsonreclined against another tree, also consuming bread and cheese, whilea red handkerchief covered his knees. William leant against a thirdtree consuming a little heap of scraps collected from the larder,while on his knees also reposed what was apparently a redhandkerchief. Jumble sat in the middle catching with nimble, snappingjaws dainties flung to him from time to time by his circle ofadmirers.
Ethel advanced nearer and inspected William's red handkerchief withdawning horror in her face. Then she gave a scream.
"_William_, that's my silk scarf! It was for a hat. I've only justbought it. Oh, mother, do _do_ something to William! He's taken my newsilk scarf--the one I'd got to trim my Leghorn. He's the most _awful_boy. I don't think----"
Mrs. Brown came out hastily to pacify her. William handed the silkscarf back to its rightful owner.
"Well, I'm _sorry_. I _thought_ it was a red handkerchief. It _looked_like a red handkerchief. Well, how could I _know_ it wasn't a redhandkerchief? I've given it her back. It's all right, Jumble's onlybit one end of it. And that's only jam what dropped on it. Well, it'll_wash_, won't it? Well, I've said I'm sorry.
"I don't get much _thanks_," William continued bitterly. "Me givin' upmy half holiday to helpin' you removin', an' I don't get much_thanks_!"
"Well, William," said Mrs. Brown, "you can go to the new house withthe first van. He'll be less in the way there," she confideddistractedly to the world in general.
William was delighted with this proposal. At the new house there was afresh set of men to unload the van, and there was the thrill of makingtheir acquaintance.
Then the front gate was only just painted and bore a notice "WetPaint." It was, of course, incumbent upon William to test personallythe wetness of the paint. His trousers bore testimony to the testingto their last day, in spite of many applications of turpentine. Jumblealso tested it, and had in fact to be disconnected with the front gateby means of a pair of scissors. For many weeks the first thing thatvisitors to the Brown household saw was a little tuft of Jumble's hairadorning the front gate.
William then proceeded to "help" to the utmost of his pow
It was found that the door of a small bedroom at the top of the stairswas locked, and this fact (added to Mr. Jones' failure to return fromhis lemonade) rather impeded the progress of the unpackers.
"Brike it open," suggested one.
"Better not."
"Per'aps the key's insoide," suggested another brightly.
William had one of his brilliant ideas.
"Tell you what I'll do," he said eagerly and importantly. "I'll climbup to the roof an' get down the chimney an' open it from the inside."
They greeted the proposal with guffaws.
They did not know William.
It was growing dusk when Mrs. Brown and Ethel and the second van loadappeared.
"What is that on the gate?" said Ethel, stooping to examine the partof Jumble's coat that brightened up the dulness of the black paint.
"It's that _dog_!" she said.
Then came a ghost-like cry, apparently from the heavens.
"Mother!"
Mrs. Brown raised a startled countenance to the skies. There seemed tobe nothing in the skies that could have addressed her.
Then she suddenly saw a small face peering down over the coping of theroof. It was a face that was very frightened, under a superficialcovering of soot. It was William's face.
"I can't get down," it said hoarsely.
Mrs. Brown's heart stood still.
"Stay where you are, William," she said faintly. "Don't _move_."
The entire staff of removers was summoned. A ladder was borrowed froma neighbouring garden and found to be too short. Another was fetchedand fastened to it. William, at his dizzy height, was growingirritable.
"I can't stay up here for _ever_," he said severely.
At last he was rescued by his friend Mr. Blake and brought down tosafety. His account was confused.
"I wanted to _help_. I wanted to open that door for 'em, so I climbedup by the scullery roof, an' the ivy, an' the drain-pipe, an' I triedto get down the chimney. I didn't know which one it was, but I tried'em all an' they were all too little, an' I tried to get down by theivy again but I couldn't, so I waited till you came an' hollered out.I wasn't scared," he said, fixing them with a stern eye. "I wasn'tscared a bit. I jus' wanted to get down. An' this ole black chimneystuff tastes beastly. No, I'm all right," he ended, in answer totender inquiries. "I'll go on helpin'."
He was with difficulty persuaded to retire to bed at a slightlyearlier hour than usual.
"Well," he confessed, "I'm a bit tired with helpin' all day."
Soon after he had gone Mr. Brown and Robert arrived.
"And how have things gone to-day?" said Mr. Brown cheerfully.
"Thank heaven William goes to school to-morrow," said Ethel devoutly.
Upstairs in his room William was studying himself in the glass--tornjersey, paint-stained trousers, blackened face.
"Well," he said with a deep sigh of satisfaction, "I guess I've jollywell _helped_ to-day!"