William's sister had recognised her possessions, and was gasping in
anger.
William's father, who knew William, was smiling sardonically.
William's mother was smiling proudly.
"You're always running down William," she said to the world in
general, "but look at him now. He's got a very important part, and he
said nothing about it at home. I call it very nice and modest of him.
And what a dear little girl."
Bettine, standing on the platform with William's hand holding hers and
the Maypole dancers dancing round her, was radiant with pride and
happiness.
* * * * *
And Evangeline Fish in the wood-shed was just beginning the last
currant cake.
CHAPTER IX
THE REVENGE
William was a scout. The fact was well known. There was no one within
a five-mile radius of William's home who did not know it. Sensitive
old ladies had fled shuddering from their front windows when William
marched down the street singing (the word is a euphemism) his scout
songs in his strong young voice. Curious smells emanated from the
depth of the garden where William performed mysterious culinary
operations. One old lady whose cat had disappeared looked at William
with dour suspicion in her eye whenever he passed. Even the return of
her cat a few weeks later did not remove the hostility from her gaze
whenever it happened to rest upon William.
William's family had welcomed the suggestion of William's becoming a
scout.
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