“You can kiss me if you like,” she said.
William looked at her dispassionately.
“I don’t want to, thanks,” he said politely.
“Oh, you are a funny boy!” she said with a ripple of laughter, “and you look so rough and untidy. You’re rather like Jumble. Do you like Jumble?”
“Yes,” said William. His voice had a sudden quaver in it. His ownership of Jumble was a thing of the past.
“You can have him for always and always,” she said suddenly. “Now kiss me!”
He kissed her cheek awkwardly with the air of one determined to do his duty, but with a great, glad relief at his heart.
“I’d love to see you dance,” she laughed. “You would look funny.”
She took a few more fairy steps.
“You’ve seen Pavlova, haven’t you?”
“Dunno.”
“You must know.”
“I mustn’t,” said William irritably. “I might have seen him and not known it was him, mightn’t I?”
She raced back to her father with another ripple of laughter.
“He’s such a funny boy, Daddy, and he can’t jazz and he’s never seen Pavlova, and he can’t talk French and I’ve given him Jumble and he didn’t want to kiss me!”
Mr. Jarrow fixed William with a drily quizzical smile.
“Beware, young man,” he said. “She’ll try to educate you. I know her. I warn you.”
As they got to the door of Lavender Cottage he turned to William.
“Now just sit and think for a minute. I’ll keep my promise.”
“I do like you,” said Ninette graciously as he took his departure. “You must come again. I’ll teach you heaps of things. I think I’d like to marry you when we grow up. You’re so—restful.”
William came home the next afternoon to find Mr. Jarrow in the armchair in the library talking to his father.
“I was just dry for a subject,” he was saying; “at my wits’ end, and when I saw them there, I had a Heaven-sent inspiration. Ah! here he is. Ninette wants you to come to tea tomorrow, William. Ninette’s given him Jumble. Do you mind?” turning to Mr. Brown.
Mr. Brown swallowed hard.
“I’m trying not to,” he said. “He kept us all awake last night, but I suppose we’ll get used to it.”
“And I made him a rash promise,” went on Mr. Jarrow, “and I’m jolly well going to keep it if it’s humanly possible. William, what would you like best in all the world?”
William fixed his eyes unflinchingly upon his father.
“I’d like my bow and arrows back out of that cupboard,” he said firmly.
Mr. Jarrow looked at William’s father beseechingly.
“Don’t let me down,” he implored. “I’ll pay for all the damage.”
Slowly and with a deep sigh Mr. Brown drew a bunch of keys from his pocket.
“It means that we all go once more in hourly peril of our lives,” he said resignedly.
After tea William set off again down the road. The setting sun had turned the sky to gold. There was a soft haze over all the countryside. The clear bird songs filled all the air, and the hedgerows were bursting into summer. And through it all marched William, with a slight swagger, his bow under one arm, his arrows under the other, while at his heels trotted Jumble, eager, playful, adoring—a mongrel unashamed—all sorts of a dog. And at William’s heart was a proud, radiant happiness.
There was a picture in that year’s Academy that attracted a good deal of attention. It was of a boy sitting on an upturned box in a barn, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He was gazing down at a mongrel dog and in his freckled face was the solemnity and unconscious, eager wistfulness that is the mark of youth. His untidy, unbrushed hair stood up round his face. The mongrel was looking up, quivering, expectant, trusting, adoring, some reflection of the boy’s eager wistfulness showing in the eyes and cocked ears. It was called Friendship.
Mrs. Brown went up to see it. She said it wasn’t really a very good likeness of William and she wished they’d made him look a little tidier.
Colophon
Just William
was published in 1922 by
Richmal Crompton.
This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
David Grigg,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2010 by
David Clarke and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans available at the
Distributed Proofreaders Open Library System.
The cover page is adapted from
Whistling Boy,
a painting completed in 1872 by
Frank Duveneck.
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League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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