CHAPTER XI

THE BEST LAID PLANS

I

"She's--she's a real Botticelli," said the young man dreamily, as he watched the figure of William's sister, Ethel, disappearing into the distance.

William glared at him.

"Bottled cherry yourself!" he said indignantly. "She can't help having red hair, can she? No more'n you can help havin'--havin'----" his eye wandered speculatively over the young man in search of physical defects--"having big ears," he ended.

The young man did not resent the insult. He did not even hear it. His eyes were still fixed upon the slim figure in the distance.

"'Eyes of blue and hair red-gold,'" he said softly. "Red-gold. I had to put that because it's got both colours in it. Red-gold, 'Eyes of blue and hair red-gold.' What rhymes with gold?"

"Cold," suggested William brightly. "That's jolly good, too, 'cause she has gotter cold. She was sneezing all last night."

"No. It should be something about her heart being cold.

"_Eyes of blue and hair red-gold,_ _Heart of ice--so stony cold----_"

"That's jolly good!" said William with admiration. "It's just like what you read in real books--poetry books!"

The young man--James French by name--had met Ethel at an evening party and had succ.u.mbed to her charm. Lacking courage to pursue the acquaintance, he had cultivated the friendship of her small brother, under a quite erroneous impression that this would win him her good graces.

"What would you like most in the world?" he said suddenly, leaning forward from his seat on the top of the gate. "Suppose someone let you choose."

"White rats," said William without a moment's hesitation.

The young man was plunged in deep thought.

"I'm thinking a way," he said at last. "I've nearly got it. Just walk home with me, will you? I'll give you something when we get there," he bribed with pathetic pleading, noting William's reluctant face. "I want to tell you my idea."

They walked down the lane together. The young man talked volubly and earnestly. William's mouth opened wide with amazement and disapproving horror. The words "white rats" were repeated frequently. Finally William nodded his head, as though acquiescing.

"I s'pose you're balmy on her," he said resignedly at the end, "like what folks are in books. I want 'em with long tails, mind."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE MOST IN THE WORLD?" HE SAID SUDDENLY. "WHITE RATS!" SAID WILLIAM WITHOUT A MOMENT'S HESITATION.]

William was not unacquainted with the tender pa.s.sion. He had been to the pictures. He had read books. He had seen his elder brother Robert pa.s.s several times through every stage of the consuming fever. He had himself decided in moments of deep emotion to marry the little girl next door as soon as he should reach manhood's estate. He was willing to further his new friend's suit by every legitimate means, but he was rather aghast at the means suggested. Still--white rats were white rats.

The next morning William a.s.sumed his expression of shining virtue--the expression he reserved for special occasions.

"You goin' shoppin' this mornin'?" he inquired politely of Ethel.

"You know I am," said Ethel shortly.

"Shall I come with you to carry parcels an' things?" said William unctuously.

Ethel looked at him with sudden suspicion.

"What do you want?" she said. "I'm not going to buy you anything."

William looked pained.

"I don't want anything," he said. "I jus' want to _help_ you, that's all. I jus' want to carry your parcels for you. I--I jus' don't want you to get tired, that's all."

"All right." Ethel was still suspicious. "You can come and you can carry parcels, but you won't get a penny out of me."

They walked down together to the shops, and William meekly allowed himself to be laden with many parcels. Ethel's grim suspicion pa.s.sed into bewilderment as he pa.s.sed toyshop after toyshop without a glance.

In imagination he was already teaching complicated tricks to a pair of white rats.

"It's--it's awfully decent of you, William," said Ethel, at last, almost persuaded that she had misjudged William for the greater part of his life. "Do you feel all right? I mean, you don't feel ill or anything, do you?"

"No," he said absently, then corrected himself hastily. "At least, not _jus'_ now. I feel all right jus' _now_. I feel as if I might not feel all right soon, but I don't know."

Ethel looked anxious.

"Let's get home quickly. What have you been eating?"

"Nothing," said William indignantly. "It's not that sort of not well.

It's quite diff'rent."

"What sort is it?"

"It's nuffin'--not jus' now. I'm all right jus' now."

They walked in silence till they had left the road behind and had turned off to the long country road that led to William's house. Then, slowly and deliberately, still clasping his burden of parcels, William sat down on the ground.

"I can't walk any more, Ethel," he said, turning his healthy countenance up to her. "I'm took ill sudden."

She looked down at him impatiently.

"Don't be absurd, William," she said. "Get up."

"I'm not absurd," he said firmly. "I'm took ill."

"Where do you feel ill?"

"All over," he said guardedly.

"Does your ankle hurt?"

"Yes--an' my knees an' all up me. I jus' can't walk. I'm took too ill to walk."