More William (Just William, Book 2)
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When Aunt Lucy tells William that 'a busy day is a happy day', William does his best to keep himself very busy indeed. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciates his efforts to cheer up Christmas Day - and when a conjuring trick with an egg goes very badly wrong, William finds himself in more trouble than ever! These fourteen fantastic Just William stories are as funny as ever.
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
be late!’ ‘Well, it’s not much good their coming if the other house isn’t ready, is it?’ said William’s grown-up sister Ethel. ‘I don’t believe they’ve even finished painting!’ ‘I’m so sorry it’s William’s half-term holiday,’ sighed Mrs Brown. ‘He’ll be frightfully in the way.’ ‘They comin’ removin’ this morning?’ he inquired cheerfully. ‘Yes, DO try not to hinder them, William.’ ‘Me?’ he said indignantly. ‘I’m goin’ to help!’ ‘If William’s going to help,’ remarked his father, ‘thank heaven
the gate of his boarding house and hastened up the walk and up the stairs. The drawing-room door was open. There was help and assistance, there was protection against this strange persecution. He entered, followed closely by William. It was about the time he had promised to read his ‘little effort’ on the Coming of Spring to his circle of admirers. A group of elderly ladies sat round the fire awaiting him. Ethel was writing. They turned as he entered and a gasp of horror and incredulous dismay
Gregorius, and I will tell you what is in my heart. Meet me here – at this time – tomorrow evening.’ William here caught sight of a stray cat at the other end of the garden. In the character of a cannibal chief he hunted the white man (otherwise the cat) with bloodcurdling war-whoops, but felt no real interest in the chase. He bound up his scratches mechanically with an ink stained handkerchief. Then he went indoors. Robert was conversing with his friend in the library. ‘Well,’ said the friend,
all right,’ said William. ‘I – wanted them to have a cream blancmange, that’s all.’ ‘Oh, they’ll have it all right; they won’t leave much for you. I only made one!’ ‘Did you say locked in the larder?’ said William carelessly. ‘It must be a bother for you to lock the larder door each time you go in?’ ‘Oh, no trouble, Master William, thank you,’ said Cook sarcastically; ‘there’s more than the cream blancmange there; there’s pasties and cakes and other things. I’m thinking of the last party your