At last, exhausted and breathless, he walked round to the side entrance of his home and stood in the hall. He could hear his mother’s voice from the drawing room.
“Miss Carter’s been ringing up all the afternoon,” she was saying, “she seems to think that William took away one of the costumes after the rehearsal. I told her that I was sure William wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“My dear,” in his father’s voice, “you do make the most rash statements.”
William entered slowly. His father and mother and sister turned and stared at him in silence.
“William!” gasped his mother. “What are you wearing?”
William made a desperate effort to carry off the situation.
“You know—everyone says how fast I’m growin’—I keep growin’ out of my things——”
“Mother!” screamed Ethel, from the window, “there’s a lot of awful women coming through the gate and an awful little boy in a shirt!”
*****
William was brushed and combed and dressed in his best suit. His week-day suit had been, with great trouble and at great expense, brought back from Mrs. Johnson, and taken from the person of her eldest son, and was now being disinfected from any possible germ which might have infested the person of her eldest son.