William the Good by Richmal Crompton Read Free Book Online

here,’ said the man, ‘because of my nerves. Acting has exhausted my vitality and impaired my nervous system. I’m an artist, and like most other artists am
highly strung. Do you know that sometimes before I go on to the stage I tremble from head to foot.’
    ‘I don’t,’ said William coolly. ‘I never feel like that when I’m actin’.’
    ‘Ah!’ smiled the man, ‘but I’m always the most important person in the plays I act in.’
    ‘S’m I,’ retorted William. ‘I’m like that. I’m the most important person in the play I’m in now.’
    ‘Would you like to see the programme of the play I’ve just been acting in in London?’ continued the actor, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket.
    William looked at it with interest. It contained a list of names in ordinary-sized print; then an ‘and’ and then ‘Giles Hampton’ in large letters.
    ‘Yes,’ said William calmly, ‘that’s the way my name’s going’ to be printed in our play.’
    ‘What play is it?’ said the man yielding at last to William’s irresistible egotism.
    ‘It’s called A Trial of Love , said William. ‘It’s for my football an’ their cinematograph.’
    ‘Ha-ha!’ said the man. ‘And may – may – ah – distinguished strangers come to it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said William casually, ‘ anyone can come to it. You’ve gotter pay at least. Everyone’s gotter pay.’
    ‘Well, I must certainly come,’ said the distinguished stranger. ‘I must certainly come and see you play the hero.’
    The dress rehearsal was not an unqualified success, but as Miss Featherstone said that was always a sign that the real performance would go off well. In all the most successful
plays, she said, the dress rehearsal went off badly. William quite dispassionately considered them the worst-tempered set of people he’d ever come across in his life. They snapped at him if
he so much as spoke. They said that his wind was far too loud, though it was in his opinion so faint and distant a breeze that it was hardly worth doing at all. They objected also to his thunder
and his horses’ hooves. They said quite untruly that they were deafening. A deep disgust with the whole proceedings was growing stronger and stronger in William’s breast. He felt that
it would serve them right if he washed his hands of the whole thing and refused to make any of their noises for them. The only reason why he did not do this was that he was afraid that if he did
they’d find some one else to do it in his place. Moreover he was feeling worried about another matter. He was aware that he did not take in the play such an important part as he had given his
friends to understand. He had given them to understand that he took the principal part and was on the stage all the time, whereas, though he quite honestly considered that he took the principal
part, he wasn’t on the stage at all. Then there was that man with bushy eyebrows he’d met in the village. He’d probably come, and William had quite given him to understand that he
had his name on the programme in big letters and took a principal part. . . .
    ‘ Thunder , William,’ said Miss Gwladwyn irritably, interrupting his meditations. ‘Why don’t you keep awake and follow where we are!’
    William emitted a piercing whistle.
    ‘Not wind ,’ she snapped. ‘ Thunder. ’
    William beat on his tin tray.
    Miss Greene-Joanes groaned.
    ‘That noise,’ she said, ‘goes through and through my head. I can’t bear it!’
    ‘Well, thunder is loud,’ said William coldly. ‘It’s nachrally loud. I can’t help thunder being’ nachrally loud.’
    ‘Thunder more gently, William,’ commanded Mrs Bruce Monkton-Bruce.
    Just to annoy them William made an almost inaudible rumble of thunder, but to his own great annoyance it didn’t annoy them at all. ‘That’s better, William,’ they said;
and gloomily William returned to his meditation. He’d seen the programme and had hardly been able to believe his