“Does your effort at truth continue to-day as well?” he said to William.
“I s’pose it’s Boxing Day too,” said William. “He din’ mention Boxing Day. But I s’pose it counts with Christmas.”
“I won’t ask you whether you’ve enjoyed yourself then,” said Uncle Frederick. He slipped another half-crown into William’s hand. “Buy yourself something with that. Your Aunt chose the Church History book and the instruments. I’m really grateful to you about—Well, I think Emma’s right. I don’t think she’ll ever come again.”
The train steamed out. Uncle Frederick returned home. He had been too optimistic. Lady Atkinson was in the drawing-room talking to his wife.
“Of course,” she was saying, “I’m not annoyed. I bear no grudge because I believe the boy’s possessed! He ought to be ex—exercised.... You know, what you do with evil spirits.”
******
It was the evening of William’s return home. His father’s question as to whether William had been good had been answered as usual in the negative and, refusing to listen to details of accusation or defence, (ignoring William’s, “But he said mos’ distinct, he said. Please use this—” and the rest of the explanation always drowned by the others) he docked William of a month’s pocket money. But William was not depressed. The ordeal of Christmas was over. Normal life stretched before him once more. His spirits rose. He wandered out into the lane. There he met Ginger, his bosom pal, with whom on normal days he fought and wrestled and carried out deeds of daring and wickedness, but who (like William) on festivals and holy days was forced reluctantly to shed the light of his presence upon his own family. From Ginger’s face too a certain gloom cleared as he saw William.
“Well,” said William, “’v you enjoyed it?”
“I had a pair of braces from my aunt,” said Ginger bitterly. “A pair of braces!”
“Well, I had a tie an’ a Church History book.”