William Again by Richmal Crompton Page A

It’s a very valuable white cat.’
    William took it. Something was moving about inside.
    ‘It’s in a highly nervous state,’ went on the donor; ‘I shouldn’t look at it if I were you.’
    ‘All right,’ said William, coldly.
    William walked on down the road. His smile had gone. He no longer thought about Christmas. He swung the basket carelessly as he walked. An infuriated scratching and snarling came from inside.
William swung it still more carelessly.
    ‘I’m not a cat-carrier,’ he muttered, indignantly. ‘Makin’ me into a cat-carrier for him!’
    He sighted Ginger, his ever faithful friend and ally, in the distance, and hailed him with a piercing whistle. Ginger came to him.
    ‘What d’you think’s in here?’ queried William.
    ‘Dunno!’
    ‘An ole cat! An’ whose d’you think it is?’
    ‘Dunno!’
    ‘Well, a man’s givin’ it to my sister. An’ how much d’you think he’s givin’ me for takin’ it?’
    ‘Dunno!’
    ‘Nothin’!’ said William, bitterly. ‘Nothin’. Makin’ a cat-carrier of me for nothin’.’
    ‘Listen to it!’ said Ginger, enraptured.
    ‘It’s been carryin’ on something dreadful ever since I got it,’ said William. ‘It’s a beautiful, nice quiet cat, isn’t it? It’ll be nice for
Jumble an’ those poor ole rats when this sort of wild thing gets loose, won’t it? It’ll be nice for them, then.’
    Sarcasm was a new weapon of William’s, and as yet his use of it was heavy
    ‘Let’s have a look at it,’ said Ginger.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said William. ‘It’s all right for you. You aren’t going to have looks at it all the res’ of your life. You aren’t going to have your life
an’ the lives of your dog an’ rats made a misery by it for the rest of your life. I don’t feel inclined to waste time lookin’ at it. Listenin’ to its carryin’
on’s enough for me jus’ at present. You’ve not been made a cat-carrier for nothing. You don’t feel like I do about it.’
    ‘Let me jus’ peep, William.’
    ‘All right, if you take any int’rest in it. I don’t. I should think there’s some law about givin’ wil’ animals for presents. There oughter be. Human life
oughter be sacreder than wot it seems to be to him. All right. Look at it. Don’t blame me if it leaves its mark on you for life. It’s a nice, quiet-tempered sort of cat. Oh, yes!
Very!’ He laughed sarcastically.
    Ginger cautiously opened the basket top a fraction of an inch.
    A small, white paw shot out. Ginger closed it hastily and sucked his hand with an expression of agony on his face.
    ‘Golly!’ he ejaculated.
    ‘There!’ said William, triumphantly. ‘Didn’t I tell you? It’ll prob’ly give you blood poisoning. All I hope is, if you die of it, he’ll get hung. He
oughter be – sendin’ wild cats without tamin’ them first.’
    Ginger assumed a heroic expression.
    ‘It wasn’t much of a scratch. Let’s have another look.’
    He opened the lid of the basket again. Both William and Ginger disclaimed responsibility for what followed. William said he wasn’t touching it, and Ginger said that he only opened it a bit
and he didn’t know that the creature was mad – not really mad – not right off its head like that. Anyway, a white ball of fury hurled itself out of the basket, dealt William a long scratch
across his cheek, nearly tore off Ginger’s ear, and disappeared over the nearest wall.
    ‘Well,’ said William, coldly. ‘What you going to do now?’
    ‘ Me? ’ said Ginger.
    ‘Yes. Jus’ tell me how you’re going to replace a valu’ble cat wot you’ve just let loose. Jus’ tell me wot I’m goin’ to do. Am I going home to say
I’ve got a valu’ble cat, in a highly nervous state, and then them find there’s nothing in the basket but jus’ air? This is all I get for being his cat-carrier! Well, you let
it loose, an’ you’ve got to re place it. That’s sense, isn’t it? I was jus’ quietly carryin’ a valu’ble cat, in