William growled. That is the only word that describes the sound emitted.
“Pretty name for a pretty boy,” commented the photographer in sprightly vein.
Ethel and Blanche gurgled. William, dark and scowling, looked unspeakable things at them.
“Come forward,” said the photographer invitingly. “Any preparations? Fancy dress?”
“I think not,” gurgled Ethel.
“I have some nice costumes,” he persisted. “A little page? Bubbles? But perhaps the hair is hardly suitable. Cupid? I have some pretty wings and drapery. But perhaps the little boy’s expression is hardly—— No, I think not,” hastily, as he encountered the fixed intensity of William’s scowling gaze. “Remove the cap and gloves, my little chap.”
He looked up and down William’s shining, immaculate person. “Ah, very nice.”
He waved Ethel and Blanche to a seat.
“Now, my boy——”
He waved the infuriated William to a rustic woodland scene at the other end.