More William | Page 4

makes folks happy havin' clocks goin' right, anyone would think. But if you want your clocks put together wrong, I don't care."
He picked up his book and walked proudly from the room followed by the admiring Jimmy.
"William," said Aunt Lucy patiently, as he passed, "I don't want to say anything unkind, and I hope you won't remember all your life that you have completely spoilt this Christmas Day for me."
"Oh, dear!" murmured Aunt Jane, sadly.
William, with a look before which she should have sunk into the earth, answered shortly that he didn't think he would.
During the midday dinner the grown-ups, as is the foolish fashion of grown-ups, wasted much valuable time in the discussion of such futilities as the weather and the political state of the nation. Aunt Lucy was still suffering and aggrieved.
"I can go this evening, of course," she said, "but it's not quite the same. The morning service is different. Yes, please, dear--and stuffing. Yes, I'll have a little more turkey, too. And, of course, the vicar may not preach to-night. That makes such a difference. The gravy on the potatoes, please. It's almost the first Christmas I've not been in the morning. It seems quite to have spoilt the day for me."
She bent on William a glance of gentle reproach. William was quite capable of meeting adequately that or any other glance, but at present he was too busy for minor hostilities. He was extremely busy. He was doing his utmost to do full justice to a meal that only happens once a year.
"William," said Barbara pleasantly, "I can dweam. Can you?"
He made no answer.
"Answer your cousin, William," said his mother.
He swallowed, then spoke plaintively, "You always say not to talk with my mouth full," he said.
"You could speak when you've finished the mouthful."
"No. 'Cause I want to fill it again then," said William, firmly.
"Dear, dear!" murmured Aunt Jane.
This was Aunt Jane's usual contribution to any conversation.
He looked coldly at the three pairs of horrified aunts' eyes around him, then placidly continued his meal.
Mrs. Brown hastily changed the subject of conversation. The art of combining the duties of mother and hostess is sometimes a difficult one.
Christmas afternoon is a time of rest. The three aunts withdrew from public life. Aunt Lucy found a book of sermons in the library and retired to her bedroom with it.
"It's the next best thing, I think," she said with a sad glance at William.
William was beginning definitely to dislike Aunt Lucy.
"Please'm," said the cook an hour later, "the mincing machine's disappeared."
"Disappeared?" said William's mother, raising her hand to her head.
"Clean gone'm. 'Ow'm I to get the supper'm? You said as 'ow I could get it done this afternoon so as to go to church this evening. I can't do nuffink with the mincing machine gone."
"I'll come and look."
They searched every corner of the kitchen, then William's mother had an idea. William's mother had not been William's mother for eleven years without learning many things. She went wearily up to William's bedroom.
William was sitting on the floor. Open beside him was "Things a Boy Can Do." Around him lay various parts of the mincing machine. His face was set and strained in mental and physical effort. He looked up as she entered.
"It's a funny kind of mincing machine," he said, crushingly. "It's not got enough parts. It's made wrong----"
"Do you know," she said, slowly, "that we've all been looking for that mincin' machine for the last half-hour?"
"No," he said without much interest, "I di'n't. I'd have told you I was mendin' it if you'd told me you was lookin' for it. It's wrong," he went on aggrievedly. "I can't make anything with it. Look! It says in my book 'How to make a model railway signal with parts of a mincing machine.' Listen! It says, 'Borrow a mincing machine from your mother----"
"Did you borrow it?" said Mrs. Brown.
"Yes. Well, I've got it, haven't I? I went all the way down to the kitchen for it."
"Who lent it to you?"
"No one lent it me. I borrowed it. I thought you'd like to see a model railway signal. I thought you'd be interested. Anyone would think anyone would be interested in seein' a railway signal made out of a mincin' machine."
His tone implied that the dullness of people in general was simply beyond him. "An' you haven't got a right sort of mincin' machine. It's wrong. Its parts are the wrong shape. I've been hammerin' them, tryin' to make them right, but they're made wrong."
Mrs. Brown was past expostulating. "Take them all down to the kitchen to cook," she said. "She's waiting for them."
On the stairs William met Aunt Lucy carrying her volume of sermons.
"It's not quite the same as the spoken word, William, dear," she said. "It hasn't the force. The written