William considered.

"Well, we was jus' walking round the room," he said, "an' we jus' felt tired and we sat----"

"_Stop_ saying that."

"Couldn't we make _cloaks_?" wailed the bride, "to hang down and cover them all up behind. It wouldn't take long----"

Mr. Brown took out his watch.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THERE WAS THIS STUFF ON THE CHESTERFIELD, AND IT CAME ON OUR CLOTHES," WILLIAM EXPLAINED STONILY ALL IN ONE BREATH.]

"The carriage has been waiting a quarter of an hour already," he said firmly. "We've no time to spare. Come along, my dear. We'll continue the investigation after the service. You can't go, of course, you must stay at home now," he ended, turning a stern eye upon William. There was an unconscious note of envy in his voice.

"And I did so _want_ to have a page," said Miss Grant plaintively as she turned away.

Joy and hope returned to William with a bound. As the sound of wheels was heard down the drive he turned head over heels several times on the lawn, then caught sight of his long-neglected alpenstock leaning against a wall.

"Come on," he shouted joyfully. "I'll teach you a game I made up. It's mountaineerin'."

She watched him place a plank against the wall and begin his perilous ascent.

"You're a mug," she said in her clear, sweet voice. "I know a mountaineering game worth ten of that old thing."

And it says much for the character and moral force of the maid-of-honour that William meekly put himself in the position of pupil.

It must be explained at this point that the domestics of the Brown household were busy arranging refreshments in a marquee in the garden.

The front hall was quite empty.

In about a quarter of an hour the game of mountaineering was in full swing. On the lowest steps of the staircase reposed the mattress from William's father's and mother's bed, above it the mattress from Miss Grant's bed, above that the mattress from William's bed, and on the top, the mattress from Dorita's bed. In all the bedrooms the bedclothes lay in disarray on the floor. A few nails driven through the ends of the mattresses into the stairs secured the stability of the "mountain."

Still wearing their robes of ceremony, they scrambled up in stockinged feet, every now and then losing foothold and rolling down to the pile of pillows and bolsters (taken indiscriminately from all the beds) which was arranged at the foot of the staircase. Their mirth was riotous and uproarious. They used the alpenstock in turns. It was a great help. They could get a firm hold on the mattresses with the point of the alpenstock. William stood at the top of the mountain, hot and panting, his alpenstock in his hand, and paused for breath. He was well aware that retribution was not far off--was in the neighbouring church, to be quite exact, and would return in a carriage within the next few minutes.

He was aware that an explanation of the yellow stain was yet to be demanded. He was aware that this was not a use to which the family mattresses could legitimately be put. But he cared for none of these things. In his mind's eye he only saw a crowd of small boys a.s.sembled outside a church door with eager eyes fixed on a carriage from which descended--Miss Grant, Mrs. Brown, and Mr. Brown. His life stretched before him bright and rose-coloured. A smile of triumph curved his lips.

"Yah! Who waited at a church for someone what never came? Yah!"

"I hope you didn't get a bad cold waitin' for me on Wednesday at the church door."

"Some folks is easy had. I bet you all believed I was coming on Wednesday."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY USED THE ALPENSTOCK IN TURNS--IT WAS A GREAT HELP.]

Such sentences floated idly through his mind.

"I say, my turn for that stick with the spike."

William handed it to her in silence.

"I say," she repeated, "what do you think of this marriage business?"

"Dunno," said William laconically.

"If I'd got to marry," went on the maid of honour, "I'd as soon marry _you_ as anyone."

"I wu'nt mind," said the page gallantly. "But," he added hastily, "in ornery clothes."

"Oh, yes," she lost her foothold and rolled down to the pile of pillows.

From them came her voice m.u.f.fled, but clear as ever. "You betcher life.

In ornery clothes."

CHAPTER X

WILLIAM'S NEW YEAR'S DAY

William went whistling down the street, his hands in his pockets.

William's whistle was more penetrating than melodious. Sensitive people fled shuddering at the sound. The proprietor of the sweet-shop, however, was not sensitive. He nodded affably as William pa.s.sed. William was a regular customer of his--as regular, that is, as a wholly inadequate allowance would permit. Encouraged William paused at the doorway and ceased to whistle.

"'Ullo, Mr. Moss!" he said.

"'Ullo, William!" said Mr. Moss.

"Anythin' cheap to-day?" went on William hopefully.

Mr. Moss shook his head.

"Twopence an ounce cheapest," he said.

William sighed.

"That's awful _dear_," he said.

"What isn't dear? Tell me that. What isn't dear?" said Mr. Moss lugubriously.

"Well, gimme two ounces. I'll pay you to-morrow," said William casually.

Mr. Moss shook his head.

"Go on!" said William. "I get my money to-morrow. You know I get my money to-morrow."

"Cash, young sir," said Mr. Moss heavily. "My terms is cash. 'Owever,"

he relented, "I'll give you a few over when the scales is down to-morrow for a New Year's gift."

"Honest Injun?"

"Honest Injun."

"Well, gimme them now then," said William.