William awoke. It was morning. It was the morning on which he was to begin his life of self-denial and service. He raised his voice in one of his penetrating and tuneless morning songs, then stopped abruptly, “case I disturb anyone” he remarked virtuously to his brush and comb.... His father frequently remarked that William’s early morning songs were enough to drive a man to drink.... He brushed his hair with unusual vigour and descended to breakfast looking (for William) unusually sleek and virtuous. His father was reading the paper in front of the fire.
“Good mornin’, Father,” said William in a voice of suave politeness.
His father grunted.
“Did you hear me not singin’ this mornin’, Father?” said William pleasantly. It was as well that his self-denials should not be missed by the family circle.
His father did not answer. William sighed. Some family circles were different from others. It was hard to imagine his father happy and grateful and admiring. But still, he was going to have a jolly good try....
His mother and sister and brother came down. William said “Good mornin’!” to them all with unctuous affability. His brother looked at him suspiciously.
“What mischief are you up to?” he said ungraciously.
William merely gave him a long silent and reproachful glance.
“What are you going to do this morning, William dear?” said his mother.
“I don’ mind what I do,” said William. “I jus’ want to help you. I’ll do anything you like, Mother.”