But Providence was on William's side for once. An old uncle came to
tea and gave William five shillings.
"Going to dance at a Maypole, I hear?" he chuckled.
"P'raps," was all William said.
His family were relieved by his meekness with regard to the May Day
festival. Sometimes William made such a foolish fuss about being
dressed up and performing in public.
"You know, dear," said his mother, "it's a dear old festival, and
quite an honour to take part in it, and a smock is quite a nice manly
garment."
"Yes, Mother," said William.
The day was fine--a real May Day. The Maypole was fixed up in the
field near the school, and the little performers were to change in the
schoolroom.
William went out with his brown paper parcel of stage properties under
his arm and stood gazing up the road by which Evangeline Fish must
come to the school. For Evangeline Fish would have to pass his gate.
Soon he saw her, her pale blue radiant in the sun.
"'Ullo!" he greeted her.
She simpered. She had won him at last.
"Waitin' to walk to the school with me, William?" she said.
He still loitered.
"You're awful early."
"Am I? I thought I was late. I meant to be late. I don't want to be
too early. I'm the most 'portant person, and I want to walk in after
the others, then they'll all look at me."
She tossed her tightly-wrought curls.
"Come into our ole shed a minute," said William. "I've got a present
for you.
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