“If you’ve come to ask questions——” he began threateningly.
“I haven’t,” said William quickly. “Father, when you’re all away on Saturday, can I have a party?”
“No, of course not,” said his father irritably. “Can’t you do something?”
William, goaded to desperation, burst into a flood of eloquence.
“THE SORT OF THINGS I WANT TO DO THEY DON’T WANT ME TO DO, AN’ THE SORT OF THINGS I DON’T WANT TO DO THEY WANT ME TO DO.” WILLIAM’S SCORN AND FURY WAS INDESCRIBABLE.
“The sort of things I want to do they don’t want me to do an’ the sort of things I don’t want to do they want me to do. Mother said to knit. Knit!”
His scorn and fury were indescribable. His father looked out of the window.
“Thank Heaven, it’s stopped raining! Go out!”
William went out.