William considered deeply before he spoke, then he said slowly:
"The thing what I'm going to do counts whatever time it is."
Reluctantly, but as if drawn by a magnet, Mr. Lambkin set off to the President's house. William was in the road.
"She told me to tell you," said William unblushingly, "that she was busy to-night, an' would you mind not coming."
The tense lines of Mr. Lambkin's face relaxed.
"Oh, William," he said, "it's a great relief. I'm going away early to-morrow, but I was afraid that to-night----" he was almost hysterical with relief. "She's so kind, but I was afraid that--well, well, I can't say I'm sorry--I'd promised to come, and I couldn't break it. But I was afraid--and I hear she's sold her house and is leaving in a month, so--but she's kind--_very_ kind."
He turned back with alacrity.
"Thanks for letting me have the clothes," said William.
"Oh, quite welcome, William. They're nice things for a boy to dress up in, no doubt. I can't say I--but she's _very_ kind. Don't let her see you playing with them, William."
William grunted and returned to his back garden.
[Illustration: "GREGORIUS," SAID THE PRESIDENT. "HOW DEAR OF YOU TO COME IN COSTUME!" THE FIGURE MADE NO MOVEMENT.]
For some time silence reigned over the three back gardens. Then Miss Gregoria Mush emerged and came towards the seat by the fence. A figure was already seated there in the half dusk, a figure swathed in a toga with the toga drawn also over its drooping head.
"Gregorius!" said the President. "How dear of you to come in costume!"
The figure made no movement.
"You know what I have in my heart, Gregorius?"
Still no answer.
"Your heart is too full for words," she said kindly. "The thought of having your destiny linked with mine takes speech from you. But have courage, dear Gregorius. You shall work for me. We will do great things together. We will be married at the little church."
Still no answer.
"Gregorius!" she murmured tenderly:
She leant against him suddenly, and he yielded beneath the pressure with a sudden sound of dissolution. Two cushions slid to the ground, the toga fell back, revealing a broomstick with a turnip fixed firmly to the top. It bore the legend:
[Illustration: APRIL FOOL]
And from the other side of the fence came a deep sigh of satisfaction from the artist behind the scenes.
CHAPTER XIV
WILLIAM'S CHRISTMAS EVE
It was Christmas. The air was full of excitement and secrecy. William, whose old-time faith in notes to Father Christmas sent up the chimney had died a natural death as the result of bitter experience, had thoughtfully presented each of his friends and relations with a list of his immediate requirements.
Things I want for Crismus 1. A Bicycle.
2. A grammerfone.
3. A pony.
4. A snake.
5. A monkey.
6. A Bugal 7. A trumpit 8. A red Injun uniform 9. A lot of sweets.
10. A lot of books.
He had a vague and not unfounded misgiving that his family would begin at the bottom of the list instead of the top. He was not surprised, therefore, when he saw his father come home rather later than usual carrying a parcel of books under his arm. A few days afterwards he announced casually at breakfast:
"Well, I only hope no one gives me 'The Great Chief,' or 'The Pirate Ship,' or 'The Land of Danger' for Christmas."
His father started.
"Why?" he said sharply.
"Jus' 'cause I've read them, that's all," explained William with a bland look of innocence.
The glance that Mr. Brown threw at his offspring was not altogether devoid of suspicion, but he said nothing. He set off after breakfast with the same parcel of books under his arm and returned with another.
This time, however, he did not put them in the library cupboard, and William searched in vain.
The question of Christmas festivities loomed large upon the social horizon.
"Robert and Ethel can have their party on the day before Christmas Eve," decided Mrs. Brown, "and then William can have his on Christmas Eve."
William surveyed his elder brother and sister gloomily.
"Yes, an' us eat up jus' what they've left," he said with bitterness.
"_I_ know!"
Mrs. Brown changed the subject hastily.
"Now let's see whom we'll have for your party, William," she said, taking out pencil and paper. "You say whom you'd like and I'll make a list."
"Ginger an' Douglas an' Henry and Joan," said William promptly.
"Yes? Who else?"
"I'd like the milkman."
"You can't have the milkman, William. Don't be so foolish."
"Well, I'd like to have Fisty Green. He can whistle with his fingers in his mouth."