William Again by Richmal Crompton Read Free Book Online Page A

time.
    ‘Well,’ he said at last, darkly and bitterly, ‘I only hope you won’t be too sorry afterwards – when you think of what you’ve done. I only hope that – I only hope that when you think of what you’ve done afterwards – you won’t be too sorry. When you—’
    ‘Hurry up, dear,’ said his mother patiently. ‘Don’t keep us all waiting.’
    Sitting between Ethel and his mother in the front pew, William allowed his thoughts to wander at their own sweet will. He found the Litany very long and trying. Its monotony
had been relieved only by a choirboy who occasionally brightened William’s existence by putting out his tongue at him from behind the cover of his psalter. From that a contest in grimaces had
arisen, begun furtively, but growing reckless in the heat of rivalry, till a choirman had intervened by digging the choirboy from behind, while Mrs Brown leant forward and frowned at William.
William retired from the contest feeling distinctly exhilarated. He considered that most decidedly he had won. The choirboy could not have capped that last one of his. In a half-hearted way he
began to listen to the sermon.
    ‘We all owe our duty to others,’ the clergyman was saying. ‘We must all try to save others beside ourselves. Not one of us must rest content till we have recalled from evil
ways at least one of those around us. How many there are going down the broad path of evil who want just the word to recall them to the path of virtue – just the word that the youngest here could
say . . . ?’
    William considered this view. He found it distinctly intriguing. He had been so frequently urged to reform himself that the appeal had lost its freshness. But to reform someone else. There was
much more sense in that; he wouldn’t mind doing that. His spirits rose. He’d rather like to try reforming someone else.
    They stood up for the hymn. The choirboy was singing lustily. William caught his eye and began to imitate his more open-mouthed efforts. This led to a second contest in grimaces, checked for a
second time when at its height by the choirman and Mrs Brown. William returned to his meditations. Yes, it would be a noble deed to reform someone else, much more interesting and less monotonous
and possibly more successful than the reforming of himself hitherto solely enjoined upon him.
    But who? That was the question.
    After due consideration that afternoon in the apple tree (where William did most of his deep thinking) he came to the reluctant conclusion that he must exclude his family from
the list of possible reformees. This was not because he did not think that his family were in need of reformation. It was not because he thought them beyond reformation, though he certainly was of
that opinion. It was rather because he doubted whether any member of his family was sufficiently broad-minded to receive reformation at his hands.
    There is a certain proverb about a prophet in his own country. His thoughts wandered over several masters at his school, whom he considered to be in crying need of reformation, but the same
applied to them. When, finally, the tea-bell sounded forth its summons, he was still undecided on whom to apply his latent powers of reformation.
    His family, who had not passed so peaceful a Sunday afternoon for weeks, looked at him in curiosity as he entered the dining-room.
    ‘What have you been doing all afternoon, dear?’ said his mother solicitously.
    ‘Jus’ thinkin’,’ said William coldly. Meditation on his family’s need for reformation had made him realise afresh all he suffered at their hands.
    ‘Not dead yet?’ said Robert jocularly.
    ‘No,’ said William with a quelling glance, ‘though anyone might be with what I’ve got to put up with. It’s a good thing I’m strong. ’
    He then transferred his attention to a large piece of bread and butter and the conversation drifted away from him. Idly he listened to it.
    ‘It’s so funny,’ Ethel, his grown-up