Just -- William | Page 6

stop talking and come on," said Robert, jerking his head in the direction of the field.
"A' right," muttered William. He untied Jumble's rope, then slowly, draggingly, like a condemned man going to the scaffold, he accompanied Robert across the field, back to the soap and brush, the table napkin and table manners of a despised civilisation.
William paused in the hall in order to place his cap on the. antlered head of a deer that hung on the wall next the hat-stand. It was William's custom to put his cap there, trying different angles to obtain different effects. And as Emily's mood could be gauged from her handling of the dinner gong, so could Mr. Brown's from his reaction to his younger son's cap on the deer's head. There were days when he smiled at it indulgently, there were days when he altered it slightly in order to enhance the effect that William had obviously been aiming at, there were days when he snatched it up with an explosive sound of wrath and flung it on to one of the hat-stand hooks.
Today, William had not time to do more than draw the peak of his cap down over the bleary glass eyes, imparting a slightly sinister look to the vapid countenance, before he turned his attention to his own person. A glance in the mirror told him that attention was necessary, if not urgent, but an irate "William!" from the dining-room told him at the same time that the process should not be unduly prolonged. He took the clothes-brush from its hook and brushed his hair back from his brow, making it stand up in a circle round his face, removed a few clods of earth from the folds of his stockings, straightened his coat, rubbed a spot of meat paste more firmly into his shirt than it had been before, and entered the dining-room, where Robert was already in his place. Four pairs of eyes met him accusingly as he entered, but he avoided them, assuming the bland innocent air of a boy who has come down in time for breakfast and is surprised to find the rest of the family already assembled.
"Morning, Father," he said with perhaps an excess of politeness, as he took his seat. "Morning, Mother. Morning, Ethel..."
"Are you aware," said Mr. Brown portentously, "that you are an hour late for breakfast?"
"I don't know that you can call it an hour, dear," said Mrs. Brown. "We didn't actually start breakfast till after half-past."
"Breakfast in this house," said Mr. Brown, "is timed to start at eight."
"But actually it didn't, dear," said Mrs. Brown.
"It's exactly three minutes past nine now," said Mr. Brown.
"Three and a half," said William, looking at the clock.
"I believe that clock gains," said Ethel.
"It used to lose," said Robert.
"Yes, and then it started gaining. I wish we had an electric clock."
"I repeat," said Mr. Brown impressively, "that breakfast in this house--"
"And you only hear the church clock striking when the wind's in the right direction," said Ethel.
"North," said Robert.
"North-east," said Ethel.
"Well, the church clock isn't much to go by anyway," said Mrs. Brown.
"Will you listen to me for one moment, please?" said Mr. Brown, with an air of patience strained beyond endurance.
"North," said Robert sotto voce.
"North-east," said Ethel.
"You're shamefully late for breakfast, William," said Mr. Brown, "and I shall deduct a penny from your pocket-money."
"Gosh!" said William with well-simulated horror. Actually he'd expected twopence and was rather relieved.
"Now, look here," said Robert. "This house faces south, doesn't it?"
"South-west," said Ethel.
"South," said Robert.
"The church clock's never been reliable since they found that mouse's nest in it," said Mrs. Brown.
"What did they do with the mouse?" said William.
"One moment," said Mr. Brown. "Will you kindly listen to me, please?"
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Brown.
"South-west," said Ethel. "You can't deny it gets the evening sun."
"The larder gets the sun all day unfortunately," said Mrs. Brown. "I always think there's something unnatural about those electric clocks."
"Are you listening to me, William?" said Mr. Brown.
"Yes, Father," said William indistinctly.
"And don't talk with your mouth full."
"No, Father," said William, "but it's jolly difficult to know what to do. People say "answer when you're spoken to" an' "don't talk with your mouth full", so if you've just got your mouth full when someone asks you something, you've gotter do somethin' wrong. If you wait till you've chewed it all up an' swallowed it before you answer, then y're not answering when you're spoken to and if--"
"William!" bellowed Mr. Brown.
"Don't argue with your father, dear," said Mrs. Brown, "and get on with your breakfast. Pass me the marmalade, will you, Ethel, dear?"
"It is south-west, isn't it?" said Ethel, passing the marmalade.
"It's south, isn't it?" said Robert.
"Probably a little of both, dear," said Mrs. Brown pacifically. "I know that when the wind's in the right