He staggered from the van to the house and from the house to the van. He worked till the perspiration poured from his freckled brow. He broke two candlesticks, a fender, a lamp, a statuette, and most of a breakfast service. After each breakage he said, “Never mind,” comfortingly to Miss Tabitha and put the pieces tidily in the dustbin. When he had filled the dustbin he arranged them in a neat pile by the side of it. He was completely master of the situation. Miss Tabitha gave up the struggle and sat on a packing-case in the kitchen with some sal-volatile and smelling-salts. One of the removers gave William a drink of cold tea—another gave him a bit of cold sausage. William was blissfully, riotously happy. The afternoon seemed to fly on wings. He tore a large hole in his knickers and upset a tin of paint, which he found on a window sill, down his jersey. At last the removers departed and William proudly surveyed the scene of his labours and destruction.
“Well,” he said, “I bet things would have been a lot different if I hadn’t helped.”
“I’m sure they would,” said Miss Tabitha with perfect truth.
“Seems about tea time, doesn’t it?” went on William gently.
Miss Tabitha gave a start and put aside the sal-volatile.
“Yes; do stay and have some here.”
“Thanks,” said William simply, “I was thinking you’d most likely ask me.”
Over the tea (to which he did full justice in spite of his previous repast of cold tea and sausage) William waxed very conversational. He told her of his friends and enemies (chiefly enemies) in the neighbourhood—of Farmer Jones who made such a fuss over his old apples, of the Rev. P. Craig who entered into a base conspiracy with parents to deprive quite well-meaning boys of their Sunday afternoon freedom. “If Sunday school’s so nice an’ good for folks as they say it is,” said William bitterly, “why don’t they go? I wun’t mind them going.”
He told her of Ginger’s air-gun and his own catapult, of the dead rat they found in the ditch and the house they had made of branches in the wood, of the dare-devil career of robber and outlaw he meant to pursue as soon as he left school. In short, he admitted her unreservedly into his friendship.
And while he talked, he consumed large quantities of bread and jam and butter and cakes and pastry. At last he rose.