Still William Read Online Free

mollified, began to practise a commanding strut.
    In the field behind the old barn that was the scene of most of their activities they began to construct Jasmine Villas by boundary lines of twigs. Each inhabitant took up their position inside a
twig-encircled enclosure, and Henry paraded officiously around.
    ‘Now we’ll jus’ have a minute to think of what things to do,’ said William, ‘an’ then I’ll begin.’
    William was sitting in his back garden thinking out exploits to perform that afternoon in the character of Mr Burwash. The game of Jasmine Villas was ‘taken on’
beyond all expectation. Mr Burwash stole Miss Milton’s washing during her afternoon siesta, Mr Buck locked up Mr Luton in his coal cellar and ate up all his provisions, and always the entire
population of Jasmine Villas was chased round the field by Henry, the policeman, several times during a game. Often some of them were arrested, tried, condemned and imprisoned by the stalwart
Henry, to be rescued later by a joint force of the other inhabitants of Jasmine Villas.
    William, sitting on an inverted flower pot, absent-mindedly chewing grass and throwing sticks for his mongrel, Jumble, to worry, was wondering whether (in his role of Mr Burwash) it would be
more exciting to go mad and resist the ubiquitous Henry’s efforts to take him to an asylum, or marry Miss Milton. The only drawback to the latter plan was that they had provided no clergyman.
However, perhaps a policeman would do . . . Finally he decided that it would be more exciting to go mad and leave Miss Milton to someone else.
    ‘ ’Ello!’
    A thin, lugubrious face appeared over the fence that separated William’s garden from the next door garden.
    ‘ ’Ello!’ replied William, throwing it a cold glance and returning to his pastime of entertaining Jumble.
    ‘I weesh to leearn ze Eengleesh,’ went on the owner of the lugubrious face. ‘My godmother ’ere she talk ze correct Eengleesh. It ees ze idiomatic Eengleesh I weesh to
leearn – how you call it? – ze slang. You talk ze slang – ees it not?’
    William gave the intruder a devastating glare, gathering up his twigs and with a commanding ‘Hi, Jumble’, set off round the side of the house.
    ‘Oh, William!’
    William sighed as he recognised his mother’s voice. This was followed by his mother’s head which appeared at the opening drawing-room window.
    ‘I’m busy jus’ now –’ said William sternly.
    ‘William, Mrs Frame next door has a godson staying with her and he is so anxious to mix with boys and learn colloquial English. I’ve asked him to tea this afternoon. Oh, here he
is.’
    The owner of the thin lugubrious face – a young man of about eighteen – appeared behind William.
    ‘I made a way – ’ow say you? – through a ’ole in ze fence. I weeshed to talk wiz ze boy.’
    ‘Well, now, William,’ said Mrs Brown persuasively, ‘you might spend the afternoon with Henri and talk to him.’
    William’s face was a study in horror and indignation.
    ‘I shan’t know what to say to him,’ he said desperately. ‘I can’t talk his kind of talk.’
    ‘I’m sure that’ll be quite all right,’ said Mrs Brown, kindly. ‘He speaks English very well. Just talk to him simply and naturally.’
    She brought the argument to an end by closing the window and leaving an embittered William to undertake his new responsibility.
    ‘ ’Ave you a ’oliday zis afternoon,’ began his new responsibility.
    ‘I ’ave,’ said William simply and naturally.
    ‘Zen we weel talk,’ said Henri with enthusiasm. ‘We weel talk an’ you weel teach to me ze slang.’
    ‘ ’Fraid I’ve gotter play a game this afternoon,’ said William icily, as they set off down the road.
    ‘I weel play,’ said Henri pleasantly, ‘I like ze games.’
    ‘I’m ’fraid,’ said William with equal pleasantness, ‘there won’t be no room for you.’
    ‘I weel watch zen,’ said Henri, ‘I like too ze