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Crompton, Richmal, 1890-1969

"More William"

We'll 'ave many talks about this 'ere!"
Joan was sitting on the bed, laughing and panting, her curls all
disordered.
"I wish," said William wistfully, "I wish you'd let me come with you
when you go stealin' some day!"
"I'm not goin' stealin' _no_ more, young gent," said his friend
solemnly. "I got a job--a real steady job--brick-layin', an' I'm goin'
to stick to it."
All good things must come to an end, and soon William donned his red
dressing-gown again and Joan her borrowed cloak, and they helped to
store the remnants of the feast in the larder--the remnants of the
feast would provide the ex-burglar and his family with food for many
days to come. Then they took the empty hand-cart and, after many fond
farewells, set off homeward through the dark.
Mr. Brown had come home and assumed charge of operations.
Ethel was weeping on the sofa in the library.
"Oh, dear little William!" she sobbed. "I do _wish_ I'd always been
kind to him!"
Mrs. Brown was reclining, pale and haggard, in the arm-chair.
"There's the Roughborough Canal, John!" she was saying weakly. "And
Joan's mother will always say it was our fault. Oh, _poor_ little
William!"
"It's a good ten miles away," said her husband drily. "I don't think
even William----" He rang up fiercely. "Confound these brainless police!
Hallo! Any news? A boy and girl and supper for twenty can't disappear
off the face of the earth. No, there had been _no_ trouble at home.


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