William The Conqueror (29 page)

Hubert’s ‘Hi’ was too faint to reach Aunt Emmy’s short hearing. She might, of course, have gone on a voyage of discovery in search of the missing Hubert had not the sight
of the ‘guests’ surging forthwith into the dining-room recalled her to the scene of action. She looked at them reproachfully.

‘I think, perhaps, Hubert has gone to tidy himself,’ she said, ‘and I think, perhaps, it would be as well if you little boys did the same.’

The ‘little boys’ ignored this suggestion, and, sitting down at the table, began to eat.

Aunt Emmy had always had a vague suspicion that she disliked boys, and the suspicion now grew to a certainty.

These boys might have made up their minds to consume all the most attractive food on the table in the shortest possible time. They refused sandwiches and bread and butter. They devoured iced
cakes as fast as poor Aunt Emmy could hand them round. They demanded trifle and blancmange and creams. They ate ravenously as though it were some mighty task they had set themselves. They got
through enormous quantities of food. They ate in silence, ignoring all Aunt Emmy’s polite remarks about the weather and questions as to how they were getting on with their lessons at school.
They worked like Trojans. The dish of iced cakes was empty. The trifle dish was empty. The cream dish was empty. The blancmange dish was empty.

Only plates of wholesome bread and butter, of sandwiches and of plain cake stood untouched.

Aunt Emmy looked round aghast.

Louder and more indignant grew the Hubertian ‘Hi’s!’ from upstairs. And another sound had joined them – a sound of the pattering of many hands on a distant door. The real
guests had evidently awakened to the fact that something had gone wrong somewhere.

‘Do you hear a – a sort of
sound
?’ said Aunt Emmy, doubtfully, putting her hand to her ear. William looked up as if straining his ears to catch the ever-growing
racket.

‘What sort of a sound?’ he demanded, fixing Aunt Emmy with his stern unblinking gaze.

‘I – I think I’ll go and see whatever dear Hubert’s doing,’ said Aunt Emmy faintly, and, her hair coming down more violently than ever, she fled from the horrible
spectacle of these ungentlemanly little boys eating like – well, like nothing Aunt Emmy had ever seen before.

AUNT EMMY LOOKED ROUND AGHAST.

THE DISH OF ICED CAKES WAS EMPTY. THE TRIFLE DISH WAS EMPTY. THE CREAM-CAKE DISH WAS EMPTY. ONLY WHOLESOME BREAD AND BUTTER AND PLAIN CAKE REMAINED.

Mr Lane was not in the best of tempers when he returned home. He was taking a gloomy view of life generally. The vindictive cheerfulness and persistent healthiness of his aunt had had a very
embittering effect on him. And the story of the Outlaws marauding expedition proved to be the last straw. So he sat down at once and wrote a very strong letter to the Outlaws’ fathers.

The fathers of the Outlaws were quite accustomed to receiving strong letters from Mr Lane. Whenever a boy annoyed Hubert, Hubert’s father wrote a strong letter to the boy’s father.
And quite often the father did nothing at all beyond dropping the strong letter into the waste-paper basket. But this was, of course, a serious matter. Verbal or even bodily insults, to Hubert Lane
and his followers, might be, metaphorically speaking, dropped into the waste-paper basket, but consuming vast quantities of Lane food uninvited, was, in the eyes of the adult world, a serious
matter, and the heavy hand of parental retribution descended upon the Outlaws that night.

But the effect of the heavy hand of parental retribution is always short-lived.

The next morning the Outlaws sallied out to school undaunted even to bumptiousness. The Lanites looked gloomy and infuriated and they glowered ferociously at the Outlaws silently during school.
After school the Outlaws in a body approached the Lanites in a body.

‘
You
jolly well caught it last night,’ said Hubert derisively.

‘Hush, darling!’ said William, in a shrill falsetto. ‘Say it quietly. Little gentlemen never raise their voices.’

‘I’ll tell my father,’ said Hubert, in fury.

‘Don’t take any notice of them,’ counselled Bertie Franks. ‘My mother told me never to have anything to do with them.’

But the Outlaws now began to rub their hands round their stomachs in vulgar mock show of appreciation, smacking their lips and screwing up their faces.

‘Cream cakes,’ said William. ‘Coo!
Jolly
good!’

‘Trifle!’ murmured Ginger rapturously.

‘Sugar cakes!’ said Ginger. ‘Oh, crumbs!’

This was more than even the Hubert Lanites could stand. Unwarlike as they were, accustomed to take their stand behind Mr Lane’s strong letters and avoid open conflict, they threw caution
to the winds, and hurled themselves to mortal combat with the Outlaws.

It was a good fight and revealed unsuspected resources of courage and prowess in the Hubert Lanites.

It ended in a general mix-up of Outlaws and Lanites in a muddy ditch.

There Outlaws and Lanites sat up panting and covered with mud, and looked at each other.

And slowly over the faces of all dawned a grin of satisfaction.

‘Go home and tell your father now,’ said William to Hubert.

And Hubert, swelling with pride and joy after his first real fight, said: ‘No, I won’t. An’ – an’ we’ll fight you again,’ and added hastily (for though
he’d enjoyed it he’d had quite enough for one day), ‘tomorrow.’

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.

‘Probably the funniest, toughest children’s books ever written’

Sunday Times
on the Just William series

‘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

Just William

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 1926

This selection first published 1984 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 978-1-447-21401-4 EPUB

All stories copyright © Richmal C. Ashbee
This selection copyright © Richmal C. Ashbee 1984
Foreword copyright © Charlie Higson 2009
Illustrations copyright © Thomas Henry Fisher Estate

The right of Richmal C. Ashbee to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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.

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