“I don’t thuppoth the’d care to go out without me,” said Cuthbert airily. “I’ll go with you.  Thith boy can play here if he liketh.”

And William, artist in vituperation as he was, could think of no response.

He followed them into the garden, and there came upon him a wild determination to show his superiority.

“You can’t climb that tree,” he began.

“I can,” said Cuthbert sweetly.

“Well, climb it then,” grimly.

“No, I don’t want to get my thingth all methed.  I can climb it, but you can’t.  He can’t climb it, Joan, he’th trying to pretend he can climb it when he can’t.  He knowth I can climb it, but I don’t want to get my thingth methed.”

Joan smiled admiringly at Cuthbert.

“I’ll show you,” said William desperately.  “I’ll just show you.”

He showed them.

He climbed till the tree-top swayed with his weight, then descended, hot and triumphant.  The tree was covered with green lichen, a great part of which had deposited itself upon William’s suit.  His efforts also had twisted his collar round till its stud was beneath his ear.  His heated countenance beamed with pride.

For a moment Cuthbert was nonplussed.  Then he said scornfully: 

“Don’t he look a fright, Joan?” Joan giggled.

But William was wholly engrossed in his self-imposed task of “showing them.”  He led them to the bottom of the garden, where a small stream (now almost dry) disappeared into a narrow tunnel to flow under the road and reappear in the field at the other side.

“You can’t crawl through that,” challenged William, “you can’t do it.  I’ve done it, done it often.  I bet you can’t.  I bet you can’t get halfway.  I——­”

“Well, do it, then!” jeered Cuthbert.

William, on all fours, disappeared into the mud and slime of the small round aperture.  Joan clasped her hands, and even Cuthbert was secretly impressed.  They stood in silence.  At intervals William’s muffled voice came from the tunnel.

“It’s jolly muddy, too, I can tell you.”

“I’ve caught a frog!  I say, I’ve caught a frog!”

“Crumbs!  It’s got away!”

“It’s nearly quicksands here.”

“If I tried I could nearly drown here!”

At last, through the hedge, they saw him emerge in the field across the road.  He swaggered across to them aglow with his own heroism.  As he entered the gate he was rewarded by the old light of adoration in Joan’s blue eyes, but on full sight of him it quickly turned to consternation.  His appearance was beyond description.  There was a malicious smile on Cuthbert’s face.

“Do thumthing elth,” he urged him.  “Go on, do thumthing elth.”

“Oh, William,” said Joan anxiously, “you’d better not.”

But the gods had sent madness to William.  He was drunk with the sense of his own prowess.  He was regardless of consequences.