Free Still William by Richmal Crompton

BROKEN.
    His thirst for practical virtue was not yet sated. Surely there was something he could do, even if he couldn’t make a pudding. Yes, he could carry the things into the dining-room so
that they could have dinner as soon as they came in. He opened the oven door. A chicken on a large dish was there. Good! Burning his fingers severely in the process William took it out. He’d
put it on the dining-room table all ready for them to begin. Just as he stood with the dish in his hands he heard his mother and Robert come in. He’d go and give Robert Miss Dexter’s
letter first. He looked round for somewhere to put the chicken. The table seemed to be full. He put the dish and the chicken on to the floor and went into the hall closing the door behind him.
Robert and his mother had gone into the drawing-room. William followed.
    ‘Well, William,’ said Mrs Brown pleasantly, ‘had a nice day?’
    Without a word William handed the note to Robert.
    Robert read it.
    He went first red, then pale, then a wild look came into his eyes.
    ‘Marion Dexter !’ he said.
    ‘You’re in love with her, aren’t you?’ said William. ‘You’ve been writing pomes to her.’
    ‘Not to Marion Dexter ,’ screamed Robert. ‘She’s an old woman. She’s nearly twenty-five . . . It’s – Marion Hatherley I—’
    ‘Well, how was I to know ?’ said William in a voice of irritation. ‘You should put their surnames in the pomes. I thought you wanted to be engaged to her. I’ve took
a lot of trouble over it gettin’ her to write that.’
    Robert was reading and re-reading the note.
    ‘My God!’ he said in a hushed voice of horror. ‘I’m engaged to Marion Dexter!’
    ‘Robert,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘I don’t think you ought to use expressions like that before your little brother, whoever you’re engaged to.’
    ‘I’m engaged to Marion Dexter,’ repeated Robert in a tone of frenzy, ‘ Me! . . . chained to her for life when I love another . . .’
    ‘Robert dear,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘if there’s been any mistake I’m sure that all you have to do is to go to Miss Dexter and explain.’
    ‘Explain!’ said Robert wildly. ‘How can I explain? She’s accepted me . . . How can any man of chivalry refuse to marry a woman who? . . . Oh, it’s too
much.’ He sat down on the sofa and held his head in his hands. ‘It’s the ruin of all my hopes . . . he’s simply spoilt my life . . . he’s always spoiling my life . . .
I shall have to marry her now . . . and she’s an old woman . . . she was twenty-four last birthday, I know.’
    ‘Well, I was trying to help ,’ said William.
    ‘I’ll teach you to help,’ said Robert darkly, advancing upon him.
    William dodged and fled towards the door. There he collided with Ethel – Ethel with a pale, distraught face.
    ‘It’s all over the village, Mother,’ she said angrily as she entered. ‘William’s told everyone in the village that I’ve got epilepsy and
consumption.’
    ‘I didn’t ,’ said William indignantly. ‘I only told Mrs Morrison.’
    ‘But, William,’ said his mother, sitting down weakly on the nearest chair, ‘why on earth—?’
    ‘Well, Ethel didn’t want to go to the Morrisons tonight. She wanted to go to the Helms—’
    ‘I did not ,’ said Ethel. ‘I was glad to get out of going to the Helms.’
    ‘Well, how was I to know ?’ said William desperately. ‘I had to go by what you said and I had to go by what Robert wrote . I wanted to help .
I’ve took no end of trouble – livin’ a life of self-sacrifice and service all day without stoppin’ once, and ’stead of being grateful an’ happy an’
admirin’—’
    ‘But, William,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘how did you think it was going to help anyone to say that Ethel had epilepsy and consumption?’
    ‘I’d rather have epilepsy and consumption,’ said Robert who had returned to the sofa and was sitting with his head between his hands, ‘than be engaged to Marion