affair.
If only they’d taken his word that he wasn’t frightened of old Markie, instead of making him go in and get the beastly thing – and ten to one old Markie would catch him as he
was putting it back and – and – and there’d be a norful fuss.
He considered the advisability of giving it a temporary hiding place in one of his drawers among his handkerchiefs or shirts or collars, then dismissed the idea. His mother might find it and
demand explanations. On the whole, his pocket was the safest place for the present.
He went downstairs feeling gloomy and disillusioned. All the people one read about in books – Odysseus and Tarzan and the rest of them – could do anything they liked and nothing ever
happened to them, while he couldn’t even say he wasn’t fright’ned of old Markie without getting a beastly little pot thing shoved on to him, that there’d be an awful fuss
about if anyone found out he’d got it.
He wandered downstairs, his mind still occupied with the problem of returning the china image before Mr Markson had discovered its absence. Suppose someone had seen him go in and fetch it and
told old Markie, and old Markie summoned him into his study tomorrow morning after prayers. William turned hot and cold at the thought. That gesture of defiance and courage had been very effective
and enjoyable at the time, but its consequences might be unpleasant.
‘What’s the matter, darling?’ inquired Mrs Brown solicitously as William entered the drawing-room.
‘Why?’ said William guiltily, afraid that in some way his appearance betrayed his late escapade.
‘You look so sad,’ said his mother fondly.
William emitted his famous laugh – short and bitter.
‘Huh!’ he ejaculated. ‘I bet you’d be sad if—’
He decided on second thoughts not to make any detailed explanation and stopped short.
‘If what, dear?’ said Mrs Brown sympathetically.
‘If you’d got all the troubles what I’ve got,’ said William darkly.
‘Yes, but what sort of troubles, dear?’ said Mrs Brown.
‘Oh, people botherin’ you an’ not b’lievin’ what you say an’ – an’ gettin’ things you don’t want shoved on to you,’ said William
gloomily.
At this point he caught sight of his reflection in a full-length mirror on the wall and was greatly disconcerted to discover that the Chinese figure made a bulge in his pocket that seemed to
call aloud for comment. At any minute his mother might demand to know what it was. He took advantage of her turning to the window to transfer the figure from his pocket to a small table by the wall
just where he stood. He put it well at the back of a lot of other ornaments. Surely no one would notice it there. It could surely stay there quite safely till the coast was clear for taking it
back, anyway.
He heaved a deep sigh and passed a hand over his brow. Life was very wearing – and there’d certainly be a most awful fuss if anyone found out – an’ all Henry’s and
Ginger’s and Douglas’s fault – it ought to be a lesson to them to believe what people said in the future. Anyway – he found great comfort in the thought – he’d shown ’em.
He joined his mother at the window, scowling gloomily. Suddenly his gloomy scowl changed to a look of rigid horror. Mr Markson was coming along the road with Ethel . . . now they were turning in
at the gate of William’s house. And there on a table in the drawing-room, which presumably they would soon enter, reposed Mr Markson’s Chinese image. William had had many nightmares in
his time but none as bad as this.
Ethel, although William’s sister, was admittedly the prettiest girl for miles around, and Mr Markson, although William’s headmaster, was beneath his mask of ferocity quite a
simple-hearted man, who liked pretty girls and had been much attracted by Ethel when introduced to her the week before.
They entered the room almost immediately, followed by two old ladies who were friends of Mrs
If only they’d taken his word that he wasn’t frightened of old Markie, instead of making him go in and get the beastly thing – and ten to one old Markie would catch him as he
was putting it back and – and – and there’d be a norful fuss.
He considered the advisability of giving it a temporary hiding place in one of his drawers among his handkerchiefs or shirts or collars, then dismissed the idea. His mother might find it and
demand explanations. On the whole, his pocket was the safest place for the present.
He went downstairs feeling gloomy and disillusioned. All the people one read about in books – Odysseus and Tarzan and the rest of them – could do anything they liked and nothing ever
happened to them, while he couldn’t even say he wasn’t fright’ned of old Markie without getting a beastly little pot thing shoved on to him, that there’d be an awful fuss
about if anyone found out he’d got it.
He wandered downstairs, his mind still occupied with the problem of returning the china image before Mr Markson had discovered its absence. Suppose someone had seen him go in and fetch it and
told old Markie, and old Markie summoned him into his study tomorrow morning after prayers. William turned hot and cold at the thought. That gesture of defiance and courage had been very effective
and enjoyable at the time, but its consequences might be unpleasant.
‘What’s the matter, darling?’ inquired Mrs Brown solicitously as William entered the drawing-room.
‘Why?’ said William guiltily, afraid that in some way his appearance betrayed his late escapade.
‘You look so sad,’ said his mother fondly.
William emitted his famous laugh – short and bitter.
‘Huh!’ he ejaculated. ‘I bet you’d be sad if—’
He decided on second thoughts not to make any detailed explanation and stopped short.
‘If what, dear?’ said Mrs Brown sympathetically.
‘If you’d got all the troubles what I’ve got,’ said William darkly.
‘Yes, but what sort of troubles, dear?’ said Mrs Brown.
‘Oh, people botherin’ you an’ not b’lievin’ what you say an’ – an’ gettin’ things you don’t want shoved on to you,’ said William
gloomily.
At this point he caught sight of his reflection in a full-length mirror on the wall and was greatly disconcerted to discover that the Chinese figure made a bulge in his pocket that seemed to
call aloud for comment. At any minute his mother might demand to know what it was. He took advantage of her turning to the window to transfer the figure from his pocket to a small table by the wall
just where he stood. He put it well at the back of a lot of other ornaments. Surely no one would notice it there. It could surely stay there quite safely till the coast was clear for taking it
back, anyway.
He heaved a deep sigh and passed a hand over his brow. Life was very wearing – and there’d certainly be a most awful fuss if anyone found out – an’ all Henry’s and
Ginger’s and Douglas’s fault – it ought to be a lesson to them to believe what people said in the future. Anyway – he found great comfort in the thought – he’d shown ’em.
He joined his mother at the window, scowling gloomily. Suddenly his gloomy scowl changed to a look of rigid horror. Mr Markson was coming along the road with Ethel . . . now they were turning in
at the gate of William’s house. And there on a table in the drawing-room, which presumably they would soon enter, reposed Mr Markson’s Chinese image. William had had many nightmares in
his time but none as bad as this.
Ethel, although William’s sister, was admittedly the prettiest girl for miles around, and Mr Markson, although William’s headmaster, was beneath his mask of ferocity quite a
simple-hearted man, who liked pretty girls and had been much attracted by Ethel when introduced to her the week before.
They entered the room almost immediately, followed by two old ladies who were friends of Mrs
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