William The Outlaw (30 page)

‘All right,’ he remarked despondently to the Vicar’s favourite aspidistra, ‘she
can
sue me for damages and write to the papers about me’ (these had been two
of her milder threats). ‘
I
don’t care.’

Then when the chaos and despair and suffering were at their height there came a loud knock at the door. The Vicar’s wife went to open it. In the doorway stood a boy with a bullet head,
fair bristly hair and very plain features. It was Ginger. His expression was a good imitation of William’s most expressionless one.

‘I DON’T LIKE HIS FACE,’ MRS BERTRAM PRONOUNCED FINALLY, ‘BUT THE SUIT’S ALL RIGHT. LET HIM COME.’

WILLIAM HID HIS ELATION BENEATH HIS IMPASSIVE STARE.

There was a moment’s tense silence, then someone said eagerly:

‘Where is he? Would it take long to fetch him? Could he put it on quickly?’

‘He’s here,’ said Ginger, ‘an’ he’s got it on.’

He put both his fingers into his mouth and emitted an ear-splitting whistle.

Another boy, wearing a white satin suit, emerged from the shadow of the doorway, and entered the room. It was William. He wore his imbecile expression as a protection against awkward questions.
They gazed at him open-mouthed. Mrs Bertram abruptly ceased suffering. In the background the Vicar’s wife was heard to groan: ‘It’s that boy . . . it’s that awful William
Brown.’

But there was no time for asking questions. Already the procession would be late. Mrs Bertram cast one piercing glance at him from head to foot. The others watched her breathlessly. His
stockings were of quite good silk and his suit was perfect.

‘I don’t like his face,’ she pronounced finally, ‘but the suit’s all right. Let him come.’

The route of the procession of the pageant was thickly lined. Near the school was a massed crowd of boys among which stood Bertie looking bewildered and infuriated. Next to him
stood Ginger who was explaining the situation to him patiently for the twentieth time.

‘You see, Bertie, you’re such a good hypnotist . . . you hypnotised him so that he didn’t know what he was doin’. You told him to go round with that case an’ do
somethin’ to show himself that he’d been round . . . well, you’d hypnotised him so well that he did two things ’stead of only one. He got the ball
an
’ he
changed the things in the case. He ran upstairs an’ changed them for somethin’ of his own . . . while he was hypnotised an’ din’t know what he was doin’. He was only
doin’ somethin’ to show that he’d taken it round same as you said, but he din’ know what he was doin’ ’cause he was hypnotised. Well, when he came to himself
an’ found that white satin suit where his Red Indian things used to be (Douglas’s fetchin’ that Red Indian suit back from your house now) he din’t know what to do. He
din’t know where it’d come from ’cause he’d been hypnotised when he put it there an’ when he heard the pageant wanted a page he thought he’d try ’n help
them by puttin’ on the white satin suit that he didn’t know where it had come from ’cause of bein’ hypnotised an’ go over jus’ to see if he could help them
’cause he’d heard that they wanted a page an’ he din’t know where the white suit had come from ’cause of bein’ hypnotised when he put it there . . .’

But a sudden hush fell. The procession was approaching. The central figure of the procession was Mrs Bertram as Queen Elizabeth. Behind her walked William as the page. Behind William walked his
dog Jumble – as unpolished-looking a dog as was William a boy. Jumble had joined the procession as it passed William’s gate and had firmly resisted all attempts at ejection.
William’s appearance had been the subject of many unfavourable comments as he passed along the route behind Mrs Bertram.

‘
Most
unsuitable . . .’ had been the kindest.

‘To think of choosing
that
boy when they must have had the choice of all the boys in the village.’

‘I’d heard that they were going to have Bertie. . . . I must say I think they’d have been wiser to have a boy of that type.’

‘There’s nothing in the least –
romantic
or mediaeval about his face.’

‘When I think of him chasing my cat yesterday . . .’

‘He’s so
plain.
’

‘And that
awful
dog.’

But when he reached the place where the school was massed a mighty roar of applause burst forth. The air rang with cheers and with ‘Good ole Williams’.

William was not quite proof against it. The expressionlessness of his expression flickered and broke up for just a second. He grinned and blushed like any
jeune première.

Then, hastily composing his features again to imbecility, he passed on. . . .

Richmal Crompton was born in Lancashire in 1890. The first story about William Brown appeared in
Home
magazine in 1919, and the first collection of William stories was
published in book form three years later. In all, thirty-eight William books were published, the last one in 1970, after Richmal Crompton’s death.

‘Probably the funniest, toughest children’s books ever written’

Sunday Times
on the Just William series

‘Richmal Crompton’s creation [has] been famed for his cavalier attitude to life and those who would seek to circumscribe his enjoyment of it ever since he first
appeared’

Guardian

Books available in the Just William series

Just William

More William

William Again

William the Fourth

Still William

William the Conqueror

William the Outlaw

William in Trouble

William the Good

William at War

William

First published 1927

This selection first published 1984 by Macmillan Children’s Books

This edition published 2011 by Macmillan Children’s Books

This electronic edition published 2011 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com

ISBN 978-1-447-20613-2 EPUB

All stories copyright © Richmal C. Ashbee
This selection copyright © 1984 Richmal C. Ashbee
Foreword copyright © Francesca Simon 2011
Illustrations copyright © Thomas Henry Fisher Estate

The right of Richmal C. Ashbee to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital,
optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be
liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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