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  CHAPTER VII

  WILLIAM JOINS THE BAND OF HOPE

  "William! you've been playing that dreadful game again!" said Mrs. Browndespairingly.

  William, his suit covered with dust, his tie under one ear, his facebegrimed and his knees cut, looked at her in righteous indignation.

  "I haven't. I haven't done anything what you said I'd not to. It was'Lions an' Tamers' what you said I'd not to play. Well, I've not played'Lions an' Tamers,' not since you said I'd not to. I wouldn't _do_it--not if thousands of people asked me to, not when you said I'd notto. I----"

  Mrs. Brown interrupted him.

  "Well, what _have_ you been playing at?" she said wearily.

  "It was 'Tigers an' Tamers.'" said William. "It's a different gamealtogether. In 'Lions an' Tamers' half of you is lions an' the otherhalf tamers, an' the tamers try to tame the lions an' the lions try notto be tamed. That's 'Lions an' Tamers'. It's all there is to it. It'squite a little game."

  "What do you do in 'Tigers and Tamers'?" said Mrs. Brown suspiciously.

  "Well----"

  William considered deeply.

  "Well," he repeated lamely, "in '_Tigers_ an' Tamers' half of you is_tigers_--you see--and the other half----"

  "It's exactly the same thing, William," said Mrs. Brown with suddenspirit.

  "I don't see how you can call it the same thing," said William doggedly."You can't call a _lion_ a _tiger_, can you? It jus' isn't one. They'rein quite different cages in the Zoo. '_Tigers_ an' Tamers' can't be'zactly the same as '_Lions_ an' Tamers.'"

  "Well, then," said Mrs. Brown firmly, "you're never to play 'Tigers andTamers' either. And now go and wash your face."

  William's righteous indignation increased.

  "My _face_?" he repeated as if he could hardly believe his ears. "My_face_? I've washed it twice to-day. I washed it when I got up an' Iwashed it for dinner. You told me to."

  "Well, just go and look at it."

  William walked over to the looking-glass and surveyed his reflectionwith interest. Then he passed his hands lightly over the discolouredsurface of his face, stroked his hair back and straightened his tie.This done, he turned hopefully to his mother.

  "It's no good," she said. "You must wash your face and brush your hairand you'd better change your suit--and stockings. They're simply coveredwith dust!"

  William turned slowly to go from the room.

  "I shouldn't think," he said bitterly, as he went, "I shouldn't thinkthere's many houses where so much washin' and brushin' goes on as inthis, an' I'm glad for their sakes."

  She heard him coming downstairs ten minutes later.

  "William!" she called.

  He entered. He was transformed. His face and hair shone, he had changedhis suit. His air of righteous indignation had not diminished.

  "That's better," said his mother approvingly. "Now, William, do just sitdown here till tea-time. There's only about ten minutes, and it's nogood your going out. You'll only get yourself into a mess again if youdon't sit still."

  William glanced round the drawing-room with the air of one goaded beyondbearing.

  "Here?"

  "Well, dear--just till tea-time."

  "What can I do in here? There's nothing to _do_, is there? I can't sitstill and not _do_ anything, can I?"

  "Oh, read a book. There are ever so many books over there you haven'tread, and I'm sure you'd like some of them. Try one of Scott's," sheended rather doubtfully.

  William walked across the room with an expression of intense suffering,took out a book at random, and sat down in an attitude of aloof dignity,holding the book upside down.

  It was thus that Mrs. de Vere Carter found him when she was announced amoment later.

  Mrs. de Vere Carter was a recent addition to the neighbourhood. Beforeher marriage she had been one of _the_ Randalls of Hertfordshire.Everyone on whom Mrs. de Vere Carter smiled felt intensely flattered.She was tall, and handsome, and gushing, and exquisitely dressed. Herarrival had caused quite a sensation. Everyone agreed that she was"charming."

  MRS. DE VERE CARTER PRESSED WILLIAM'S HEAD TO HER BOSOM.]

  On entering Mrs. Brown's drawing-room, she saw a little boy, dressedvery neatly, with a clean face and well-brushed hair, sitting quietly ona low chair in a corner reading a book.

  "The little dear!" she murmured as she shook hands with Mrs. Brown.

  William's face darkened.

  Mrs. de Vere Carter floated over to him.

  "Well, my little man, and how are you?"

  Her little man did not answer, partly because Mrs. de Vere Carter hadput a hand on his head and pressed his face against her perfumed,befrilled bosom. His nose narrowly escaped being impaled on the thorn ofa large rose that nestled there.

  "I adore children," she cooed to his mother over his head.

  William freed his head with a somewhat brusque movement and she took uphis book.

  "Scott!" she murmured. "Dear little laddie!"

  Seeing the expression on William's face his mother hastily drew herguest aside.

  "_Do_ come and sit over here," she said nervously. "What perfect weatherwe're having."

  William walked out of the room.

  "You know, I'm _frightfully_ interested in social work," went on hercharming guest, "especially among children. I _adore_ children! Sweetlittle dear of yours! And I _always_ get on with them. Of course, I geton with most people. My personality, you know! You've heard perhaps thatI've taken over the Band of Hope here, and I'm turning it into _such_ asuccess. The pets! Yes, three lumps, please. Well, now, it's here I wantyou to help me. You will, dear, won't you? You and your little mannikin.I want to get a different class of children to join the Band of Hope.Such a sweet name, isn't it? It would do the village children such a lotof good to meet with children of _our_ class."

  Mrs. Brown was flattered. After all, Mrs. de Vere Carter was one of_the_ Randalls.

  "For instance," went on the flute-like tones, "when I came in and sawyour little treasure sitting there so sweetly," she pointed dramaticallyto the chair that had lately been graced by William's presence, "Ithought to myself, 'Oh, I _must_ get him to come.' It's the refininginfluence of children in _our_ class that the village children need.What delicious cakes. You will lend him to me, won't you? We meet once aweek, on Wednesday afternoons. May he come? I'll take great care ofhim."

  Mrs. Brown hesitated.

  "Er--yes," she said doubtfully. "But I don't know that William is reallysuited to that sort of thing. However----"

  "Oh, you can't put me off!" said Mrs. de Vere Carter shaking a playfulbejewelled finger. "Don't I _know_ him already? I count him one of mydearest little friends. It never takes me long to know children. I'm a_born_ child-lover."

  William happened to be passing through the hall as Mrs. de Vere Cartercame out of the drawing-room followed by Mrs. Brown.

  "_There_ you are!" she said. "I _thought_ you'd be waiting to saygood-bye to me."

  She stretched out her arm with an encircling movement, but Williamstepped back and stood looking at her with a sinister frown.

  "I _have_ so enjoyed seeing you. I hope you'll come again," untruthfullystammered Mrs. Brown, moving so as to block out the sight of William'sface, but Mrs de Vere Carter was not to be checked. There are people towhom the expression on a child's face conveys absolutely nothing. Oncemore she floated towards William.

  "Good-bye, Willy, dear. You're not too old to kiss me, are you?"

  Mrs. Brown gasped.

  At the look of concentrated fury on William's face, older and strongerpeople than Mrs. de Vere Carter would have quailed, but she only smiledas, with another virulent glare at her, he turned on his heel and walkedaway.

  "The sweet, shy thing!" she cooed. "I _love_ them shy."

  Mr. Brown was told of the proposal.

  "Well," he said slowly, "I can't quite visualise William at a Band ofHope meeting; but of course, if you want him to, he must go."

  "You see," said Mrs. Brown with a worried f
rown, "she made such a pointof it, and she really is very charming, and after all she's ratherinfluential. She was one of _the_ Randalls, you know. It seems silly tooffend her."

  "Did William like her?"

  "She was sweet with him. At least--she meant to be sweet," she correctedherself hastily, "but you know how touchy William is, and you know thename he always hates so. I can never understand why. After all, lots ofpeople are called Willy."

  The morning of the day of the Band of Hope meeting arrived. William camedown to breakfast with an agonised expression on his healthycountenance. He sat down on his seat and raised his hand to his browwith a hollow groan.

  Mrs. Brown started up in dismay.

  "Oh, William! What's the matter?"

  "Gotter sick headache," said William in a faint voice.

  "Oh, dear! I _am_ sorry. You'd better go and lie down. I'm so sorry,dear."

  "I think I will go an' lie down," said William's plaintive, sufferingvoice. "I'll jus' have breakfast first."

  "Oh, I wouldn't. Not with a sick headache."

  William gazed hungrily at the eggs and bacon.

  "I think I could eat some, mother. Jus' a bit."

  "No, I wouldn't, dear. It will only make it worse."

  Very reluctantly William returned to his room.

  Mrs. Brown visited him after breakfast.

  No, he was no better, but he thought he'd go for a little walk. Yes, hestill felt very sick. She suggested a strong dose of salt and water. Hemight feel better if he'd been actually sick. No, he'd hate to give herthe trouble. Besides, it wasn't _that_ kind of sickness. He was mostemphatic on that point. It wasn't _that_ kind of sickness. He thought awalk would do him good. He felt he'd like a walk.

  Well wrapped up and walking with little, unsteady steps, he set off downthe drive, followed by his mother's anxious eyes.

  Then he crept back behind the rhododendron bushes next to the wall andclimbed in at the larder window.

  The cook came agitatedly to Mrs. Brown half an hour later, followed byWilliam, pale and outraged.

  "'E's eat nearly everything, 'm. You never saw such a thing. 'E's eatthe cold 'am and the kidney pie, and 'e's eat them three cold sausagesan' 'e's eat all that new jar of lemon cheese."

  "_William!_" gasped Mrs. Brown, "you _can't_ have a sick headache, ifyou've eaten all that."

  That was the end of the sick headache.

  He spent the rest of the morning with Henry and Douglas and Ginger.William and Henry and Douglas and Ginger constituted a secret societycalled the Outlaws. It had few aims beyond that of secrecy. William wasits acknowledged leader, and he was proud of the honour. If theyknew--if they guessed. He grew hot and cold at the thought. Suppose theysaw him going--or someone told them--he would never hold up his headagain. He made tentative efforts to find out their plans for theafternoon. If only he knew where they'd be--he might avoid them somehow.But he got no satisfaction.

  "'E'S EAT NEARLY EVERYTHING, MUM. 'E'S EAT THE COLD 'AMAND THE KIDNEY PIE, AND 'E'S EAT THE JAR OF LEMON CHEESE!" COOK WAS PALEAND OUTRAGED]

  They spent the morning "rabbiting" in a wood with Henry's fox terrier,Chips, and William's mongrel, Jumble. None of them saw or heard arabbit, but Jumble chased a butterfly and a bee, and scratched up amolehill, and was stung by a wasp, and Chips caught a field-mouse, sothe time was not wasted.

  William's interest, however, was half-hearted. He was turning over planafter plan in his mind, all of which he finally rejected asimpracticable.

  He entered the dining-room for lunch rather earlier than usual. OnlyRobert and Ethel, his elder brother and sister, were there. He came inlimping, his mouth set into a straight line of agony, his browsfrowning.

  "Hello! What's up?" said Robert, who had not been in at breakfast andhad forgotten about the Band of Hope.

  "I've sprained my ankle," said William weakly.

  "Here, sit down, old chap, and let me feel it," said Robertsympathetically.

  William sat down meekly upon a chair.

  "Which is it?"

  "Er--this."

  "It's a pity you limped with the other," said Ethel drily.

  That was the end of the sprained ankle.

  The Band of Hope meeting was to begin at three. His family received withcomplete indifference his complaint of sudden agonising toothache athalf-past two, of acute rheumatism at twenty-five to three, and of atouch of liver (William considered this a heaven-set inspiration. It wasresponsible for many of his father's absences from work) at twenty tothree. At a quarter to three he was ready in the hall.

  "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, William," said Mrs. Brown soothingly. "Iexpect you'll all play games and have quite a good time."

  William treated her with silent contempt.

  "Hey, Jumble!" he called.

  After all, life could never be absolutely black, as long as it heldJumble.

  Jumble darted ecstatically from the kitchen regions, his mouth coveredwith gravy, dropping a half-picked bone on the hall carpet as he came.

  "William, you can't take a dog to a Band of Hope meeting."

  "Why not?" said William, indignantly. "I don't see why not. Dogs don'tdrink beer, do they? They've as much right at a Band of Hope meeting asI have, haven't they? There seems jus' nothin' anyone _can_ do."

  "Well, I'm sure it wouldn't be allowed. No one takes dogs to meetings."

  She held Jumble firmly by the collar, and William set off reluctantlydown the drive.

  "I hope you'll enjoy it," she called cheerfully.

  He turned back and looked at her.

  "It's a wonder I'm not _dead_," he said bitterly, "the things I have todo!"

  He walked slowly--a dejected, dismal figure. At the gate he stopped andglanced cautiously up and down the road. There were three more figurescoming down the road, with short intervals between them. They wereHenry, Douglas and Ginger.

  William's first instinct was to dart back and wait till they hadpassed. Then something about their figures struck him. They also had adejected, dismal, hang-dog look. He waited for the first one, Henry.Henry gave him a shamefaced glance and was going to pass him by.

  "You goin' too?" said William.

  Henry gasped in surprise.

  "Did she come to _your_ mother?" was his reply.

  He was surprised to see Ginger and Douglas behind him and Ginger wassurprised to see Douglas behind him. They walked together sheepishly ina depressed silence to the Village Hall. Once Ginger raised a hand tohis throat.

  "Gotter beas'ly throat," he complained, "I didn't ought to be out."

  "I'm ill, too," said Henry; "I _told_ 'em so."

  "An' me," said Douglas.

  "An' me," said William with a hoarse, mirthless laugh. "Cruel sorterthing, sendin' us all out ill like this."

  At the door of the Village Hall they halted, and William lookedlongingly towards the field.

  "It's no good," said Ginger sadly, "they'd find out."

  Bitter and despondent, they entered.

  Within sat a handful of gloomy children who, inspired solely by hopes ofthe annual treat, were regular attendants at the meeting.

  Mrs. de Vere Carter came sailing down to them, her frills and scarfsfloating around her, bringing with her a strong smell of perfume.

  "Dear children," she said, "welcome to our little gathering. These," sheaddressed the regular members, who turned gloomy eyes upon the Outlaws,"these are our dear new friends. We must make them _so_ happy. _Dear_children!"

  She led them to seats in the front row, and taking her stand in front ofthem, addressed the meeting.

  "Now, girlies dear and laddies dear, what do I expect you to be at thesemeetings?"

  And in answer came a bored monotonous chant:

  "Respectful and reposeful."

  "I have a name, children dear."

  "Respectful and reposeful, Mrs. de Vere Carter."

  "That's it, children dear. Respectful and reposeful. Now, our little newfriends, what do I expect you to be?"

  No answer.<
br />
  The Outlaws sat horrified, outraged, shamed.

  "You're _such_ shy darlings, aren't you?" she said, stretching out anarm.

  William retreated hastily, and Ginger's face was pressed hard against adiamond brooch.

  "You won't be shy with us long, I'm sure. We're _so_ happy here. Happyand good. Now, children dear, what is it we must be?"

  Again the bored monotonous chant:

  "Happy and good, Mrs. de Vere Carter."

  "That's it. Now, darlings, in the front row, you tell me. Willy, pet,you begin. What is it we must be?"

  At that moment William was nearer committing murder than at any othertime in his life. He caught a gleam in Henry's eye. Henry wouldremember. William choked but made no answer.

  "You tell me then, Harry boy."

  Henry went purple and William's spirits rose.

  "Ah, you won't be so shy next week, will they, children dear?"

  "No, Mrs. de Vere Carter," came the prompt, listless response.

  "Now, we'll begin with one of our dear little songs. Give out thebooks." She seated herself at the piano. "Number five, 'SparklingWater.' Collect your thoughts, children dear. Are you ready?"

  She struck the opening chords.

  The Outlaws, though provided with books, did not join in. They had noobjection to water as a beverage. They merely objected to singing aboutit.

  Mrs. de Vere Carter rose from the piano.

  "Now, we'll play one of our games, children dear. You can begin byyourselves, can't you, darlings? I'll just go across the field and seewhy little Teddy Wheeler hasn't come. He must be _regular_, mustn't he,laddies dear? Now, what game shall we play. We had 'Puss in the Corner'last week, hadn't we? We'll have 'Here we go round the mulberry-bush'this week, shall we? No, not 'Blind Man's Buff,' darling. It's a horrid,rough game. Now, while I'm gone, see if you can make these four shydarlings more at home, will you? And play quietly. Now before I go tellme four things that you must be?"

  "Respectful and reposeful and happy and good, Mrs. de Vere Carter," camethe chant.

  "GO IT, MEN! CATCH 'EM, BEAT 'EM, KNIFE 'EM, KILL 'EM!"THE TAMER ROARED.]

  She was away about a quarter of an hour. When she returned the game wasin full swing, but it was not "Here we go round the mulberry-bush."There was a screaming, struggling crowd of children in the Village Hall.Benches were overturned and several chairs broken. With yells andwhoops, and blows and struggles, the Tamers tried to tame; with growlsand snarls and bites and struggles the animals tried not to be tamed.Gone was all listlessness and all boredom. And William, his tie hangingin shreds, his coat torn, his head cut, and his voice hoarse, led thefray as a Tamer.

  "Come on, you!"

  "I'll get you!"

  "Gr-r-r-r-r!"

  "Go it, men! Catch 'em, beat 'em, knife 'em, kill 'em."

  The spirited roarings and bellowing of the animals was almostblood-curdling.

  Above it all Mrs. de Vere Carter coaxed and expostulated and wrung herhands.

  "Respectful and reposeful," "happy and good," "laddies dear," and"Willy" floated unheeded over the tide of battle.

  Then somebody (reports afterwards differed as to who it was) rushed outof the door into the field and there the battle was fought to a finish.From there the Band of Hope (undismissed) reluctantly separated to itsvarious homes, battered and bruised, but blissfully happy.

  Mrs. Brown was anxiously awaiting William's return.

  When she saw him she gasped and sat down weakly on a hall chair.

  "William!"

  "I've not," said William quickly, looking at her out of a fast-closingeye, "I've not been playing at either of them--not those what you saidI'd not to."

  "Then--what----?"

  "It was--it was--'Tamers an' Crocerdiles,' an' we played it at the Bandof Hope!"