I felt awful hot, an' I di'n't like Cuthbert."
He appeared to think this sufficient explanation, though he was fully
prepared for the want of sympathy displayed by his family.
"Well," he said firmly, "I'd just like to see you do it, I'd just like
to see you be in the head and that ole rug an' have to say stupid
things an'--an' see folks you don't like, an' I bet you'd _do_
something."
But he felt that public feeling was against him, and relapsed sadly
into silence. From the darkness in front of them came the sound of
Cuthbert's wailing as Mrs. Clive led her two charges home.
"_Poor_ little Cuthbert!" said Mrs. Brown. "If I were Joan, I don't
think I'd ever speak to you again."
"Huh!" ejaculated William scornfully.
But at William's gate a small figure slipped out from the darkness and
two little arms crept round William's neck.
"Oh, _William_," she whispered, "he's going to-morrow, and I am glad.
Isn't he a softie? Oh, William, I do _love_ you, you do such _'citing_
things!"
CHAPTER VII
THE GHOST
William lay on the floor of the barn, engrossed in a book. This was a
rare thing with William. His bottle of lemonade lay untouched by his
side, and he even forgot the half-eaten apple which reposed in his
hand. His jaws were arrested midway in the act of munching.
"Our hero," he read, "was awakened about midnight by the sound of the
rattling of chains. Raising himself on his arm he gazed into the
darkness.
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