laid a finger on the side. His
presence rather hindered their efforts, but they succeeded in spite of
it. William, however, was under the impression that his strength alone
had wrought the miracle. He put on an outrageous swagger.

"I'm jolly strong," he confided to Mr. Blake. "I'm stronger than most
folk."

Here the removers decided that it was time for their midday repast and
retired to consume it in the shady back garden. All except Mr. Jones,
who said he would go down the road for a drink of lemonade. William
said that there was lemonade in the larder and offered to fetch it,
but Mr. Jones said hastily that he wanted a special sort. He had to be
very particular what sort of lemonade he drank.

Mrs. Brown and Ethel sat down to a scratch meal in the library.
William followed his two new friends wistfully into the garden.

"William! Come to lunch!" called Mrs. Brown.

"Oh, leave him alone, Mother," pleaded Ethel. "Let us have a little
peace."

But William did not absent himself for long.

"I want a red handkerchief," he demanded loudly from the hall.

There was no response.

He appeared in the doorway.

"I say, I want a red handkerchief. Have you gotter red handkerchief,
Mother?"

"No, dear."

"Have you Ethel?"

"NO!"

"All right," said William aggrievedly. "You needn't get mad, need you?
I'm only askin' for a red handkerchief. I don't want a red
handkerchief off you if you haven't _got_ it, do I?"

"William, go _away_ and shut the door."

William obeyed. Peace reigned throughout the house and garden for the
next half-hour. Then Mrs. Brown's conscience began to prick her.

"William must have something to eat, dear. Do go and find him."

Ethel went out to the back garden. A scene of happy restfulness met
her gaze. Mr. Blake reclined against one tree consuming bread and
cheese, while a red handkerchief covered his knees. Mr. Johnson
reclined against another tree, also consuming bread and cheese, while
a red handkerchief covered his knees. William leant against a third
tree consuming a little heap of scraps collected from the larder,
while on his knees also reposed what was apparently a red
handkerchief. Jumble sat in the middle catching with nimble, snapping
jaws dainties flung to him from time to time by his circle of
admirers.

Ethel advanced nearer and inspected William's red handkerchief with
dawning horror in her face. Then she gave a scream.

"_William_, that's my silk scarf! It was for