CHAPTER VI
THE RIVALS
William was aware of a vague feeling of apprehension when he heardthat Joan Clive, the little girl who lived next door, was having astrange cousin to stay for three weeks. All his life, William hadaccepted Joan's adoration and homage with condescending indifference,but he did not like to imagine a possible rival.
"What's he _coming_ for?" he demanded with an ungracious scowl,perched uncomfortably and dangerously on the high wall that separatedthe two gardens and glaring down at Joan. "What's he comin' _for_, anyway?"
"'Cause mother's invited him," explained Joan simply, with a shake ofher golden curls. "He's called Cuthbert. She says he's a sweet littleboy."
"_Sweet!_" echoed William in a tone of exaggerated horror. "Ugh!"
"Well," said Joan, with the smallest note of indignation in her voice,"you needn't play with him if you don't like."
"_Me?_ Play? With _him_?" scowled William as if he could not believehis ears. "I'm not likely to go playin' with a kid like wot _he'll_be!"
Joan raised aggrieved blue eyes.
"You're a _horrid_ boy sometimes, William!" she said. "Any way, Ishall have him to play with soon."
It was the first time he had received anything but admiration fromher.
He scowled speechlessly.
Cuthbert arrived the next morning.
William was restless and ill-at-ease, and several times climbed theladder for a glimpse of the guest, but all he could see was the gardeninhabited only by a cat and a gardener. He amused himself by throwingstones at the cat till he hit the gardener by mistake and then fledprecipitately before a storm of abuse. William and the gardener wereenemies of very long standing. After dinner he went out again into thegarden and stood gazing through a chink in the wall.
Cuthbert was in the garden.
Though as old and as tall as William, he was dressed in an embroideredtunic, very short knickers, and white socks. Over his blue eyes hiscurls were brushed up into a golden halo.
He was a picturesque child.
"What shall we do?" Joan was saying. "Would you like to play hide andseek?"
"No; leth not play at rough gameth," said Cuthbert.
With a wild spasm of joy William realised that his enemy lisped. Itis always well to have a handle against one's enemies.
"What shall we do, then?" said Joan, somewhat wearily.
"Leth thit down an' I'll tell you fairy thorieth," said Cuthbert.
A loud snort from inside the wall just by his ear startled him, and heclutched Joan's arm.
"What'th that?" he said.
There were sounds of clambering feet on the other side of the wall,then William's grimy countenance appeared.
"Hello, Joan!" he said, ignoring the stranger.
Joan's eyes brightened.
"Come and play with us, William," she begged.
"We don't want dirty little boyth," murmured Cuthbert fastidiously.William could not, with justice, have objected to the epithet. He hadspent the last half-hour climbing on to the rafters of the disusedcoach-house, and dust and cobwebs adorned his face and hair.
"He's _always_ like that," explained Joan, carelessly.
By this time William had thought of a suitable rejoinder.
"All right," he jeered, "don't look at me then. Go on tellin' fairy_thorieth_."
Cuthbert flushed angrily.
"You're a nathty rude little boy," he said. "I'll tell my mother."
Thus war was declared.
He came to tea the next day. Not all William's pleading could persuadehis mother to cancel the invitation.
"Well," said William darkly, "wait till you've _seen_ him, that's all.Wait till you've heard him _speakin'_. He can't talk even. He can't_play_. He tells fairy stories. He don't like _dirt_. He's got longhair an' a funny long coat. He's _awful_, I tell you. I don't _want_to have him to tea. I don't want to be washed an' all just because_he's_ comin' to tea."
But as usual William's eloquence availed nothing.
Several people came to tea that afternoon, and there was a suddensilence when Mrs. Clive, Joan, and Cuthbert entered. Cuthbert was in awhite silk tunic embroidered with blue, he wore white shoes and whitesilk socks. His golden curls shone. He looked angelic.
"Oh, the darling!"
"Isn't he adorable?"
"What a _picture_!"
"Come here, sweetheart."
Cuthbert was quite used to this sort of thing.
They were more delighted than ever with him when they discovered hislisp.
His manners were perfect. He raised his face, with a charming smile,to be kissed, then sat down on the sofa between Joan and Mrs. Clive,swinging long bare legs.
William, sitting, an unwilling victim, on a small chair in a corner ofthe room, brushed and washed till he shone again, was conscious of afeeling of fury quite apart from the usual sense of outrage that healways felt upon such an occasion. It was bad enough to be washed tillthe soap went into his eyes and down his ears despite all hisprotests. It was bad enough to have had his hair brushed till his headsmarted. It was bad enough to be hustled out of his comfortable jerseyinto his Eton suit which he loathed. But to see Joan, _his_ Joan,sitting next the strange, dressed-up, lisping boy, smiling and talkingto him, that was almost more than he could bear with calmness.Previously, as has been said, he had received Joan's adoration withcoldness, but previously there had been no rival.
"William," said his mother, "take Joan and Cuthbert and show them yourengine and books and things. Remember you're the _host_, dear," shemurmured as he passed. "Try to make them happy."
He turned upon her a glance that would have made a stronger womanquail.
Silently he led them up to his play-room.
"There's my engine, an' my books. You can play with them," he saidcoldly to Cuthbert. "Let's go and play in the garden, you and me,Joan." But Joan shook her head.
"I don't thuppoth the'd care to go out without me," said Cuthbertairily. "_I'll_ go with you. Thith boy can play here if he liketh."
And William, artist in vituperation as he was, could think of noresponse.
He followed them into the garden, and there came upon him a wilddetermination to show his superiority.
"You can't climb that tree," he began.
"I can," said Cuthbert sweetly.
"Well, _climb_ it then," grimly.
"No, I don't want to get my thingth all methed. I _can_ climb it, butyou can't. He can't climb it, Joan, he'th trying to pretend he canclimb it when he can't. He knowth I can climb it, but I don't want toget my thingth methed."
Joan smiled admiringly at Cuthbert.
"I'll _show_ you," said William desperately. "I'll just _show_ you."
He showed them.
He climbed till the tree-top swayed with his weight, then descended,hot and triumphant. The tree was covered with green lichen, a greatpart of which had deposited itself upon William's suit. His effortsalso had twisted his collar round till its stud was beneath his ear.His heated countenance beamed with pride.
For a moment Cuthbert was nonplussed. Then he said scornfully:
"Don't he look a _fright_, Joan?" Joan giggled.
But William was wholly engrossed in his self-imposed task of "showingthem." He led them to the bottom of the garden, where a small stream(now almost dry) disappeared into a narrow tunnel to flow under theroad and reappear in the field at the other side.
"You can't crawl through that," challenged William, "you can't _do_it. I've _done_ it, done it often. I bet _you_ can't. I bet you can'tget halfway. I----"
"Well, _do_ it, then!" jeered Cuthbert.
William, on all fours, disappeared into the mud and slime of the smallround aperture. Joan clasped her hands, and even Cuthbert was secretlyimpressed. They stood in silence. At intervals William's muffled voicecame from the tunnel.
"It's jolly muddy, too, I can _tell_ you."
"I've caught a frog! I say, I've caught a frog!"
"Crumbs! It's got away!"
r /> "It's nearly quicksands here."
"If I tried I could nearly _drown_ here!"
At last, through the hedge, they saw him emerge in the field acrossthe road. He swaggered across to them aglow with his own heroism. Ashe entered the gate he was rewarded by the old light of adoration inJoan's blue eyes, but on full sight of him it quickly turned toconsternation. His appearance was beyond description. There was amalicious smile on Cuthbert's face.
"Do thumthing elth," he urged him. "Go on, do thumthing elth."
"Oh, William," said Joan anxiously, "you'd better not."
But the gods had sent madness to William. He was drunk with the senseof his own prowess. He was regardless of consequences.
"I CAN CLIMB UP THAT AN' SLIDE DOWN THE COAL INSIDE.THAT'S WHAT I CAN DO. THERE'S NOTHIN' I CAN'T DO!" SAID WILLIAM.]
He pointed to a little window high up in the coal-house.
"I can climb up that an' slide down the coal inside. That's what I cando. There's _nothin'_ I can't do. I----"
"All right," urged Cuthbert, "if you can do that, do it, and I'llbelieve you can do anything."
For Cuthbert, with unholy glee, foresaw William's undoing.
"Oh, William," pleaded Joan, "_I know_ you're brave, but don't----"
But William was already doing it. They saw his disappearance into thelittle window, they heard plainly his descent down the coal heapinside, and in less than a minute he appeared in the doorway. He wasalmost unrecognisable. Coal dust adhered freely to the moistconsistency of the mud and lichen already clinging to his suit, aswell as to his hair and face. His collar had been almost torn awayfrom its stud. William himself was smiling proudly, utterlyunconscious of his appearance. Joan was plainly wavering betweenhorror and admiration. Then the moment for which Cuthbert had longedarrived.
"Children! come in now!"
Cuthbert, clean and dainty, entered the drawing-room first and pointedan accusing finger at the strange figure which followed.
"He'th been climbing treeth an' crawling in the mud, an' rolling downthe coalth. He'th a nathty rough boy."
A wild babel arose as William entered.
"_William!_"
"You _dreadful_ boy!"
"Joan, come right away from him. Come over here."
"What _will_ your father say?"
"William, my _carpet_!"
For the greater part of the stream's bed still clung to William'sboots.
Doggedly William defended himself.
"I was showin' 'em how to do things. I was bein' a host. I was tryin'to make 'em _happy_! I----"
"William, don't stand there talking. Go straight upstairs to thebathroom."
It was the end of the first battle, and undoubtedly William had lost.Yet William had caught sight of the smile on Cuthbert's face andWilliam had decided that that smile was something to be avenged.
But fate did not favour him. Indeed, fate seemed to do the reverse.
The idea of a children's play did not emanate from William's mother,or Joan's. They were both free from guilt in that respect. It emanatedfrom Mrs. de Vere Carter. Mrs. de Vere Carter was a neighbour with agenius for organisation. There were few things she did not organisetill their every other aspect or aim was lost but that of"organisation." She also had what amounted practically to a diseasefor "getting up" things. She "got up" plays, and bazaars, andpageants, and concerts. There were, in fact, few things she did not"get up." It was the sight of Joan and Cuthbert walking together downthe road, the sun shining on their golden curls, that had inspired herwith the idea of "getting up" a children's play. And Joan must be thePrincess and little Cuthbert the Prince.
Mrs. de Vere Carter was to write the play herself. At first shedecided on Cinderella. Unfortunately there was a dearth of littlegirls in the neighbourhood, and therefore it was decided at a meetingcomposed of Mrs. de Vere Carter, Mrs. Clive, Mrs. Brown (William'smother), and Ethel (William's sister), that William could easily bedressed up to represent one of the ugly sisters. It was, however,decided at a later meeting, consisting of William and his mother andsister, that William could not take the part. It was William who cameto this decision. He was adamant against both threats and entreaties.Without cherishing any delusions about his personal appearance, hefirmly declined to play the part of the ugly sister. They took thenews with deep apologies to Mrs. de Vere Carter, who was already inthe middle of the first act. Her already low opinion of William sankto zero. Their next choice was little Red Riding Hood, and William waslured, by glowing pictures of a realistic costume, into consenting totake the part of the Wolf. Every day he had to be dragged by someelder and responsible member of his family to a rehearsal. His hatredof Cuthbert was only equalled by his hatred of Mrs. de Vere Carter.
"He acts so _unnaturally_," moaned Mrs. de Vere Carter. "Try reallyto _think_ you're a wolf, darling. Put some spirit into it.Be--_animated_."
William scowled at her and once more muttered monotonously his openinglines:
"A wolf am I--a wolf on mischief bent, To eat this little maid is my intent."
"Take a breath after 'bent,' darling. Now say it again."
William complied, introducing this time a loud and audible gasp torepresent the breath. Mrs. de Vere Carter sighed.
"Now, Cuthbert, darling, draw your little sword and put your arm roundJoan. That's right."
Cuthbert obeyed, and his clear voice rose in a high chanting monotone.
"Avaunt! Begone! You wicked wolf, away! This gentle maid shall never be your prey."
"That's beautiful, darling. Now, William, slink away. _Slink_ away,darling. Don't stand staring at Cuthbert like that. Slink away. I'llshow you. Watch me slink away."
Mrs. de Vere Carter slunk away realistically, and the sight of itbrought momentary delight to William's weary soul. Otherwise therehearsals were not far removed from torture to him. The thought ofbeing a wolf had at first attracted him, but actually a wolf characterwho had to repeat Mrs. de Vere Carter's meaningless couplets and beworsted at every turn by the smiling Cuthbert, who was forced towatch from behind the scenes the fond embraces of Cuthbert and Joan,galled his proud spirit unspeakably. Moreover Cuthbert monopolised herboth before and after the rehearsals.
"Come away, Joan, he'th prob'bly all over coal dutht and all of ameth."
The continued presence of unsympathetic elders prevented his properavenging of such insults.
The day of the performance approached, and there arose some littletrouble about William's costume. If the wearing of the dining-roomhearth-rug had been forbidden by Authority it would have at oncebecome the dearest wish of William's heart and a thing to beaccomplished at all costs. But, because Authority decreed that thatshould be William's official costume as the Wolf, William at oncebegan to find insuperable difficulties.
"It's a dirty ole thing, all dust and bits of black hair come off iton me. I don't think it _looks_ like a wolf. Well, if I've gotter be awolf folks might just as well _know_ what I am. This looks like as ifit came off a black sheep or sumthin'. You don't want folks to thinkI'm a _sheep_ 'stead of a _wolf_, do you? You don't want me to be madelook ridiclus before all these folks, do you?"
He was slightly mollified by their promise to hire a wolf's head forhim. He practised wolf's howlings (though these had no part in Mrs. deVere Carter's play) at night in his room till he drove his familyalmost beyond the bounds of sanity.
Mrs. de Vere Carter had hired the Village Hall for the performance,and the proceeds were to go to a local charity.
On the night of the play the Hall was packed, and Mrs. de Vere Carterwas in a flutter of excitement and importance.
"Yes, the dear children are splendid, and they look _beautiful_! We'veall worked so _hard_. Yes, entirely my own composition. I only hopethat William Brown won't _murder_ my poetry as he does at rehearsals."
The curtain went up.
The scene was a wood, as was evident from a few small branches oftrees placed here and there at intervals on the stage.
Joan, in
a white dress and red cloak, entered and began to speak,quickly and breathlessly, stressing every word with impartialregularity.
"A little maid am I--Red Riding-Hood. My journey lies along this dark, thick wood. Within my basket is a little jar Of jam--a present for my grand-mamma."
Then Cuthbert entered--a Prince in white satin with a blue sash. Therewas a rapt murmur of admiration in the audience as he made hisappearance.
William waited impatiently and uneasily behind the scenes. His wolf'shead was very hot. One of the eye-holes was beyond his range ofvision; through the other he had a somewhat prescribed view of whatwent on around him. He had been pinned tightly into the dining-roomhearth-rug, his arms pinioned down by his side. He was distinctlyuncomfortable.
At last his cue came.
Red Riding-Hood and the Prince parted after a short conversation inwhich their acquaintance made rapid strides, and at the end of whichthe Prince said casually as he turned to go:
"So sweet a maid have I never seen, Ere long I hope to make her my wife and queen."
Red Riding-Hood gazed after him, remarking (all in the same breath andtone):
"How kind he is, how gentle and how good! But, see what evil beast comes through the wood!"
Here William entered amid wild applause. On the stage he found thathis one eye-hole gave him an excellent view of the audience. Hismother and father were in the second row. Turning his head roundslowly he discovered his sister Ethel sitting with a friend near theback.
"William," hissed the prompter, "go on! 'A wolf am I----'"
But William was engrossed in the audience. There was Mrs. Clive aboutthe middle of the room.
"'A wolf am I'--_go on_, William!"
William had now found the cook and housemaid in the last row of alland was turning his eye-hole round in search of fresh discoveries.
The prompter grew desperate.
"'A wolf am I--a wolf on mischief bent.' _Say_ it, William."
William turned his wolf's head towards the wings. "Well, I was _goin'_to say it," he said irritably, "if you'd lef' me alone."
The audience tittered.
"Well, say it," said the voice of the invisible prompter.
"Well, I'm going to," said William. "I'm not goin' to say that againwot you said 'cause they all heard it. I'll go on from there."
The audience rocked in wild delight. Behind the scenes Mrs. de VereCarter wrung her hands and sniffed strong smelling-salts. "That boy!"she moaned.
Then William, sinking his voice from the indignant clearness withwhich it had addressed the prompter, to a muffled inaudibility,continued:
"To eat this little maid is my intent."
But there leapt on the stage again the radiant white and blue figureof the Prince brandishing his wooden sword.
"Avaunt! Begone! You wicked wolf, away! This gentle maid shall never be your prey."
At this point William should have slunk away. But the vision revealedby his one available eye-hole of the Prince standing in a threateningattitude with one arm round Joan filled him with a sudden andunaccountable annoyance. He advanced slowly and pugnaciously towardsthe Prince; and the Prince, who had never before acted with William inhis head (which was hired for one evening only) fled from the stagewith a wild yell of fear. The curtain was lowered hastily.
There was consternation behind the scenes. William, glaring from outhis eye-hole and refusing to remove his head, defended himself in hisbest manner.
"Well I di'n't tell him to run away, did I? I di'n't _mean_ him to runaway. I only _looked_ at him. Well, I was goin' to slink in a minit. Ionly wanted to look at him. I was _goin'_ to slink."
"Oh, never mind! Get on with the play!" moaned Mrs. de Vere Carter."But you've quite destroyed the _atmosphere_, William. You've spoiltthe beautiful story. But hurry up, it's time for the grandmother'scottage scene now."
Not a word of William's speeches was audible in the next scene, buthis attack on and consumption of the aged grandmother was one of themost realistic parts of the play, especially considering the fact thathis arms were imprisoned.
"Not so roughly, William!" said the prompter in a sibilant whisper."Don't make so much noise. They can't hear a word anyone's saying."
At last William was clothed in the nightgown and nightcap and lying inthe bed ready for little Red Riding-Hood's entrance. The combinedeffect of the rug and the head and the thought of Cuthbert had madehim hotter and crosser than he ever remembered having felt before. Hewas conscious of a wild and unreasoning indignation against the worldin general. Then Joan entered and began to pipe monotonously:
"Dear grandmamma, I've come with all quickness To comfort you and sooth your bed of sickness, Here are some little dainties I have brought To show you how we cherish you in our thought."
Here William wearily rose from his bed and made an unconvincing springin her direction.
But on to the stage leapt Cuthbert once more, the vision in blue andwhite with golden curls shining and sword again drawn.
"Ha! evil beast----"
It was too much for William. The heat and discomfort of his attire,the sight of the hated Cuthbert already about to embrace _his_ Joan,goaded him to temporary madness. With a furious gesture he burst thepins which attached the dining-room hearth-rug to his person and freedhis arms. He tore off the white nightgown. He sprang at the petrifiedCuthbert--a small wild figure in a jersey suit and a wolf's head.
THE SIGHT OF THE HATED CUTHBERT ABOUT TO EMBRACE HISJOAN GOADED WILLIAM TO TEMPORARY MADNESS.]
Mrs. de Vere Carter had filled Red Riding-Hood's basket withpackages of simple groceries, which included, among other things, apaper bag of flour and a jar of jam.
William seized these wildly and hurled handfuls of flour at theprostrate, screaming Cuthbert. The stage was suddenly pandemonium. Theother small actors promptly joined the battle. The prompter was toopanic-stricken to lower the curtain. The air was white with clouds offlour. The victim scrambled to his feet and fled, a ghost-like figure,round the table.
"Take him off me," he yelled. "Take him _off_ me. Take William offme." His wailing was deafening.
The next second he was on the floor, with William on top of him.William now varied the proceedings by emptying the jar of jam on toCuthbert's face and hair.
They were separated at last by the prompter and stage manager, whilethe audience rose and cheered hysterically. But louder than thecheering rose the sound of Cuthbert's lamentation.
"He'th a nathty, rough boy! He puthed me down. He'th methed my nithclotheth. Boo-hoo!"
Mrs. de Vere Carter was inarticulate.
"That boy ... that _boy_ ... _that boy_!" was all she could say.
William was hurried away by his family before she could regain speech.
"You've disgraced us publicly," said Mrs. Brown plaintively. "Ithought you must have gone _mad_. People will never forget it. Imight have known...."
When pressed for an explanation William would only say:
"Well, I felt hot. I felt awful hot, an' I di'n't like Cuthbert."
He appeared to think this sufficient explanation, though he was fullyprepared for the want of sympathy displayed by his family.
"Well," he said firmly, "I'd just like to see you do it, I'd just liketo see you be in the head and that ole rug an' have to say stupidthings an'--an' see folks you don't like, an' I bet you'd _do_something."
But he felt that public feeling was against him, and relapsed sadlyinto silence. From the darkness in front of them came the sound ofCuthbert's wailing as Mrs. Clive led her two charges home.
"_Poor_ little Cuthbert!" said Mrs. Brown. "If I were Joan, I don'tthink I'd ever speak to you again."
"Huh!" ejaculated William scornfully.
But at William's gate a small figure slipped out from the darkness andtwo little arms crept round William's neck.
"Oh, _William_," she whispered, "he's going to-morrow, and I am glad.Isn't he a softie? Oh, William, I do _love_
you, you do such _'citing_things!"