a glimpse of the guest, but all he could see was the garden
inhabited only by a cat and a gardener. He amused himself by throwing
stones at the cat till he hit the gardener by mistake and then fled
precipitately before a storm of abuse. William and the gardener were
enemies of very long standing. After dinner he went out again into the
garden and stood gazing through a chink in the wall.

Cuthbert was in the garden.

Though as old and as tall as William, he was dressed in an embroidered
tunic, very short knickers, and white socks. Over his blue eyes his
curls were brushed up into a golden halo.

He was a picturesque child.

"What shall we do?" Joan was saying. "Would you like to play hide and
seek?"

"No; leth not play at rough gameth," said Cuthbert.

With a wild spasm of joy William realised that his enemy lisped. It
is always well to have a handle against one's enemies.

"What shall we do, then?" said Joan, somewhat wearily.

"Leth thit down an' I'll tell you fairy thorieth," said Cuthbert.

A loud snort from inside the wall just by his ear startled him, and he
clutched Joan's arm.

"What'th that?" he said.

There were sounds of clambering feet on the other side of the wall,
then William's grimy countenance appeared.

"Hello, Joan!" he said, ignoring the stranger.

Joan's eyes brightened.

"Come and play with us, William," she begged.

"We don't want dirty little boyth," murmured Cuthbert fastidiously.
William could not, with justice, have objected to the epithet. He had
spent the last half-hour climbing on to the rafters of the disused
coach-house, and dust and cobwebs adorned his face and hair.

"He's _always_ like that," explained Joan, carelessly.

By this time William had thought of a suitable rejoinder.

"All right," he jeered, "don't look at me then. Go on tellin' fairy
_thorieth_."

Cuthbert flushed angrily.

"You're a nathty rude little boy," he said. "I'll tell my mother."

Thus war was declared.

He came to tea the next day. Not all William's pleading could persuade
his mother to cancel the invitation.

"Well," said William darkly, "wait till you've _seen_ him, that's all.
Wait till you've heard him _speakin'_. He can't talk even. He can't
_play_. He tells fairy stories. He don't like _dirt_. He's got long
hair an' a funny long coat. He's _awful_, I tell you. I don't _want_
to have him to tea. I don't want to be washed an' all just because
_he's_ comin' to tea."

But as usu