William Again (26 page)

William glared at him savagely.

‘Nothin’ to do with Joan,’ he said. ‘I got it myself.’ He divested himself of the suit, shook out his tablecloth and wrapped it round him, scowling darkly.
‘Well,’ he said, slowly and bitterly, ‘if you don’t mind me goin’ through the village in
this
—’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Mr Clive pleasantly, ‘not at all. Allow me to see you to the door. Good-night, William.’

He closed the door and went to the library window. There he watched the white-clad figure disappear down the drive. ‘That young man’s progress through the village,’ he said
aloud, ‘ought to be worth watching.’

William set out once more on his adventurous journey At the thought of the village street his knees felt quite definitely unsteady. Never to William had his home seemed so near and yet so
unattainable. Suddenly he thought of the path over the fields and through the churchyard. It would bring him out a good way beyond his home, but it would avoid that nightmare of the village
street.

William climbed over the stile and set off over the fields. It was nearly dark anyway. He could see no one near . . . He climbed the second stile that led into the churchyard, and began to walk
forward. Suddenly a woman who had been standing with her back to him, reading one of the gravestones, turned, stared at him with open mouth and eyes, gave a scream that made the hair on
William’s head stand upright, and shot off like an arrow from a bow, falling head over heels over the opposite stile, picking herself up and running with deafening screams in the direction of
the village. William, feeling slightly shaken, sat down behind a tombstone to recover.

Several people passed, but William’s nerve had gone. He dared not emerge from his damp and gloomy refuge. At last he heard the sound of many cheerful voices, as if seven or eight people
were coming together through the churchyard. His spirits rose. He would tell them his plight. Seven or eight people all together would not be afraid of him . . . He rose from behind his tombstone
and with eight wild yells eight young women made for the horizon. All but one. She tripped over a stone and crouched with her head on her hands where she fell. With a thrill of joy William
recognised his mother’s housemaid. His troubles were at an end. She would fetch him his overcoat.

‘Ellen –’ he began.

‘OO-ow-ow-ow
!’ yelled Ellen.

With a shriek more piercing than he had yet heard, Ellen fled from William’s sight.

‘I don’t know where William is,’ said Mrs Brown to her husband. ‘He wasn’t in to tea.’

‘Don’t worry yourself about him unduly,’ said her husband. ‘There was a rumour rife in the village as I came from the station to the effect that William had been seen
walking in the direction of the village over an hour ago wearing a suit of clothes of abnormal size.’

Mrs Brown sat down suddenly.

‘Abnormal size? But he was wearing his ordinary suit at lunch.’

‘I can’t explain it,’ said her husband. ‘I merely repeat the rumour.’

‘An hour ago – then why isn’t he home?’

‘I can’t say,’ said her husband callously opening the evening paper.

At this point an unearthly yell broke the silence of the house, and Ellen rushed into the room, flinging herself beneath the table.

‘It’s come after me,’ she screamed. ‘It’s at the side-door – Oh lor! Oh lor! – It’s there, all white an’ all. Oh, don’t let it get me – I
don’t want to die – I’ll repent – I’ll – Oh lor! Oh lor!’

Mr Brown laid down his paper with a sigh.

‘What is it?’ he said wearily.

‘Oh lor! Oh lor!’ sobbed Ellen, beneath the table.

A figure appeared in the doorway – a wild figure, with a fierce, indignant, aggrieved expression and hair that stood up round its face, a figure that clutched a ragged tablecloth round it with
certain enraged dignity.

‘It – it – it’s William,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘But they was
stole
off me,’ said William wildly.

‘So I gathered from your account,’ said Mr Brown, politely.

‘Well, is it fair to ’speck me to pay for things wot was stole off me?’

‘I have already remarked that if I observed in you any sudden growth of such virtues as cleanliness, tidiness, obedience, silence, modesty – er – and the rest, I might myself contribute a
little towards the waistcoat, say, or the collar and tie. We will now consider the discussion closed.’

‘It’s ever so long past your bedtime, William,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘Do go to bed. I simply can’t bear to see you wearing that dreadful thing any longer.’

With a glance of sorrowful anger at his parents William drew his tablecloth about him and prepared to depart. He felt injured, infuriated, ill-treated, and weary His self-esteem was cruelly
hurt. Screams of laughter came from the next room where his grown-up brother and sister were relating his adventures to a friend.

The telephone rang.

‘William, someone wants to speak to you.’

He took the receiver unsmilingly.

‘William, Daddy said I could ring you up to say goodnight to you. I was so sorry I couldn’t go home with you. William, I don’t think you looked a bit funny in those things – I
think you looked
nice
in the tablecloth and it wasn’t your fault – and you were awfully brave about it – and wasn’t it
fun –
the desert island part? – I
did
enjoy it
– we’ll play a game like that again soon, won’t we? – Goodnight, William darling.’

‘Goodnight.’

William hung up the receiver and went upstairs to bed. He held his untidy carroty head erect. On his freckled face was a softened expression – nearly as good as a smile – he wore his tablecloth
with an almost jaunty air.

He was himself again.

Richmal Crompton was born in Lancashire in 1890. The first story about William Brown appeared in
Home
magazine in 1919, and the first collection of William stories was
published in book form three years later. In all, thirty-eight William books were published, the last one in 1970, after Richmal Crompton’s death.

‘Richmal Crompton’s creation [has] been famed for his cavalier attitude to life and those who would seek to circumscribe his enjoyment of it ever since he first
appeared’

Guardian

Books available in the Just William series

More William

William Again

William the Fourth

Still William

William the Conqueror

William the Outlaw

William in Trouble

William the Good

William at War

First published in 1923

This selection first published 1995 by Macmillan Children’s Books

This edition published 2011 by Macmillan Children’s Books

This electronic edition published 2011 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-0-330-54361-3 PDF
ISBN 978-0-330-54359-0 EPUB

All stories copyright © Richmal C. Ashbee
This selection copyright © 2005 Richmal C. Ashbee
Foreword copyright © Louise Rennison 2009
Illustrations copyright © Thomas Henry Fisher Estate

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Visit
www.panmacmillan.com
to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news
of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.