No weapon of offence against the world in general
and his own family in particular, was to be despised. He held a
rehearsal in his room when the guests were all safely assembled in the
drawing-room.
"Oh, _how_ are you, Mrs. Green?" he said in a high falsetto, meant to
represent the feminine voice. "And how's the _darling_ baby? _Such_ a
duck! I'm dying to see him again! Oh, Delia, darling! There you are!
_So_ glad you could come! What a perfect darling of a dress, my dear.
I know whose heart you'll break in that! Oh, Mr. Thompson!"--here
William languished, bridled and ogled in a fashion seen nowhere on
earth except in his imitations of his sister when engaged in
conversation with one of the male sex. If reproduced at the right
moment, it was guaranteed to drive her to frenzy, "I'm _so_ glad to
see you. Yes, of course I really am! I wouldn't say it if I wasn't!"
The drawing-room door opened and a chatter of conversation and a
rustling of dresses arose from the hall. Oh, crumbs! They were going
in to supper. Yes, the dining-room door closed; the coast was clear.
William took out the rather battered-looking delicacy from under the
bed and considered it thoughtfully. The dish was big and awkwardly
shaped. He must find something that would go under his coat better
than that. He couldn't march through the hall and out of the front
door, bearing a cream blanc-mange, naked and unashamed. And the back
door through the kitchen was impossible.
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