"Oh, yes—his Uncle John went downstairs about eleven for a book he'd forgotten, and William heard him and thought he was a burglar, and attacked him from behind. They fell downstairs on the top of each other, and then William got his uncle rolled up in the hall rug with a pair of gloves in his mouth and his eye-glasses broken before he found out who he was—he's a curious boy!"
Great-Aunt Jane was sitting up and looking quite bright.
"THERE WAS A TERRIBLE SCUFFLING GOING ON
SOMEWHERE, LAST NIGHT."
"He certainly lends an interest to life. I feel ever so much better since he came. You might send him up now, if he's in, nurse, will you?"
On her way down the nurse met Uncle John.
"How long is this young ruffian going to be here?" he said furiously. William had successfully dispelled the air of hallowed gloom from the house. "He's sent my nerves to pieces already—what his effect on that poor sufferer must be——"
"He seems to be strengthening hers," said the nurse. "She's just sent for him."
"That means a few minutes' peace for the rest of the house, at any rate," he said.
William entered the sick room sullenly. He was thoroughly bored with life. Even his enemy, Fatty, was not to be found. Fatty retired every afternoon with his mother to lie down.