More William | Page 4

take it all to pieces to get it right.
Seems to me the person wot made this clock didn't know much about
clock-making. Seems to me----"
"Be quiet, William!"
"We was be quietin' 'fore you came in," said Jimmy, severely. "You
'sturbed us."
"Leave it just as it is, William," said his mother.
"You don't unnerstand," said William with the excitement of the fanatic.
"The cog-wheel an' the ratchet ought to be put on the arbor different.
See, this is the cog-wheel. Well, it oughtn't to be like wot it was. It was
put on all wrong. Well, we was mendin' it. An' we was doin' it for you,"
he ended, bitterly, "jus' to help an'--to--to make other folks happy. It
makes folks happy havin' clocks goin' right, anyone would think. But if
you want your clocks put together wrong, I don't care."
He picked up his book and walked proudly from the room followed by
the admiring Jimmy.
"William," said Aunt Lucy patiently, as he passed, "I don't want to say

anything unkind, and I hope you won't remember all your life that you
have completely spoilt this Christmas Day for me."
"Oh, dear!" murmured Aunt Jane, sadly.
William, with a look before which she should have sunk into the earth,
answered shortly that he didn't think he would.
During the midday dinner the grown-ups, as is the foolish fashion of
grown-ups, wasted much valuable time in the discussion of such
futilities as the weather and the political state of the nation. Aunt Lucy
was still suffering and aggrieved.
"I can go this evening, of course," she said, "but it's not quite the same.
The morning service is different. Yes, please, dear--and stuffing. Yes,
I'll have a little more turkey, too. And, of course, the vicar may not
preach to-night. That makes such a difference. The gravy on the
potatoes, please. It's almost the first Christmas I've not been in the
morning. It seems quite to have spoilt the day for me."
She bent on William a glance of gentle reproach. William was quite
capable of meeting adequately that or any other glance, but at present
he was too busy for minor hostilities. He was extremely busy. He was
doing his utmost to do full justice to a meal that only happens once a
year.
"William," said Barbara pleasantly, "I can dweam. Can you?"
He made no answer.
"Answer your cousin, William," said his mother.
He swallowed, then spoke plaintively, "You always say not to talk with
my mouth full," he said.
"You could speak when you've finished the mouthful."
"No. 'Cause I want to fill it again then," said William, firmly.

"Dear, dear!" murmured Aunt Jane.
This was Aunt Jane's usual contribution to any conversation.
He looked coldly at the three pairs of horrified aunts' eyes around him,
then placidly continued his meal.
Mrs. Brown hastily changed the subject of conversation. The art of
combining the duties of mother and hostess is sometimes a difficult
one.
Christmas afternoon is a time of rest. The three aunts withdrew from
public life. Aunt Lucy found a book of sermons in the library and
retired to her bedroom with it.
"It's the next best thing, I think," she said with a sad glance at William.
William was beginning definitely to dislike Aunt Lucy.
"Please'm," said the cook an hour later, "the mincing machine's
disappeared."
"Disappeared?" said William's mother, raising her hand to her head.
"Clean gone'm. 'Ow'm I to get the supper'm? You said as 'ow I could
get it done this afternoon so as to go to church this evening. I can't do
nuffink with the mincing machine gone."
"I'll come and look."
They searched every corner of the kitchen, then William's mother had
an idea. William's mother had not been William's mother for eleven
years without learning many things. She went wearily up to William's
bedroom.
William was sitting on the floor. Open beside him was "Things a Boy
Can Do." Around him lay various parts of the mincing machine. His
face was set and strained in mental and physical effort. He looked up as
she entered.

"It's a funny kind of mincing machine," he said, crushingly. "It's not got
enough parts. It's made wrong----"
"Do you know," she said, slowly, "that we've all been looking for that
mincin' machine for the last half-hour?"
"No," he said without much interest, "I di'n't. I'd have told you I was
mendin' it if you'd told me you was lookin' for it. It's wrong," he went
on aggrievedly. "I can't make anything with it. Look! It says in my
book 'How to make a model railway signal with parts of a mincing
machine.' Listen! It says, 'Borrow a mincing machine from your
mother----"
"Did you borrow it?" said Mrs. Brown.
"Yes. Well, I've got it,