'I don't know who sent the children,' said Lady Markham afterwards. 'Or whether it was their own idea. They must, of course, have heard of the dilemma I was in, because I'd simply rung up everyone I knew to tell them about it. I was feeling simply desperate, when I looked out of the window and saw these children coming to my rescue. It really was a charming idea. A children's Battle of Flowers. First came a little girl dressed as a snowdrop, followed by her pages, then came a little girl dressed as a rose, followed by her pages. The pages, of course, were rather strangely dressed, but, considering the war and everything, it was excellent. Then they started this Battle of the Flowers and invited the audience to join in, and then the whole thing went like a house on fire. It became just a little bit rough, I admit, but the children enjoyed it and that was the chief thing.'

'Splendid effort, my boy,' said Sir Gerald, grasping William's hand in his turn. 'Simply splendid! I can't tell you how grateful my wife and I are to you . . . Ice broken all right now, eh?'

The ice was certainly broken, together with most of the chairs and benches on which the audience had been sitting, but host and hostess gazed at the chaos with smiles of unalloyed pleasure.

'Such a relief!' said Lady Markham. 'These afternoons have always been a success. I should have been miserable if this one had been a failure. You and your friends will stay to tea, won't you, and help us till the little visitors go?'

Dazedly William promised that he would. Dazedly he returned to the fray. The Battle of Flowers had developed into a game which everyone played according to his own rules, and in which everyone seemed to know what he was doing, though no one else did. The little visitors leapt and screamed and shouted and pushed.

'It's the best party we've ever 'ad here,' said one of them to William. 'I'm jolly glad they asked you.'

They cl.u.s.tered round the trestle tables in the hall, dishevelled and panting, and began the attack upon jellies, sandwiches, cakes, buns. Sir Gerald and Lady Markham hovered gratefully about William, pressing delicacies upon him.

'It really is good of you, you know,' said Sir Gerald, 'giving up your Sat.u.r.day afternoon to getting us out of a hole like this.'

William grinned sheepishly and took another slab of chocolate cake.

Violet Elizabeth and Joan stood on one side and watched proceedings with an air of aloofness, daintily nibbling chocolate biscuits.

'It's a very pretty frock,' said Joan generously.

'Yourth ith pretty, too,' said Violet Elizabeth, not to be outdone in generosity, and added: 'An' yourth wath a very nithe piethe of poetry.'

'You didn't make up that poetry yourself, did you?' said Joan.

'No,' admitted Violet Elizabeth, with what on any less angelic face would have been a grin. 'I got my couthin to do it. Thee'th clever.'

They watched the boys scuffling round the table, wolfing the lavish tea.

'Jutht look at them,' said Violet Elizabeth, elevating her small nose. 'Aren't they dithguthting?'

'They haven't any manners, boys,' said Joan.

The two felt themselves to be withdrawn into a rarified atmosphere of feminine superiority.

'They haven't any mannerth and they haven't any thenth,' said Violet Elizabeth severely. 'I thay, will you come to tea at our houthe tomorrow, and we won't have any boyth?'

'Yes, I'd like to,' said Joan.

William approached them, his mouth still full of chocolate cake.

'We're goin' out to play rounders,' he said indistinctly. 'Come on.'

Violet Elizabeth looked at him disdainfully.

'What a meth you're in!' she said, with an odious imitation of grown-up disapproval. 'Joan and I don't care for thothe childith gameth. We're going to walk round the garden, aren't we, Joan?'

'Yes,' said Joan.

They walked off, arm in arm, without looking back.

William stood staring after them, baffled and crestfallen, pondering on the incomprehensibility of the female s.e.x. Then he shrugged his shoulders, dismissed the problem, and ran to join the riot on the lawn . . .

Richmal Crompton was born in Lancas.h.i.+re 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 att.i.tude to life and those who would seek to circ.u.mscribe 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.

end.