William Again by Richmal Crompton Page B

a highly nervous state, down the
road, an’ you come along an’ let it loose. Well, wot you goin’ to do?’
    ‘Well, wot can I do?’ said Ginger, helplessly. ‘I din’t know the thing was a cat lunatick, did I? It oughter be in a cat asylum. You never told me you was carryin’
a wild cat or a mad cat. You jus’ said a cat. You—’
    But the white ball of fury had appeared again, flying over the wall and down the road at full speed. William grasped his empty basket, and started after it.
    ‘Come on!’ he shouted, as he ran. ‘Come on! Catch it! Catch it!’
    They raced down the road after the flying white ball – first the cat, then William, then Ginger – through a garden, leaving a cursing gardener in their rear – in and out of a house, leaving its
irate owner ringing up the police – first the cat, then William, then Ginger, breathless and afire with the chase.
    Along a wall, the cat on the top and William and Ginger at the foot.
    They nearly got her then. She fell into a rain-tub in a private garden at the foot of the wall, but scrambled out and fled again, dripping and grimy . . . through a muddy ditch . . . the ball of
fury was now not white, but a dingy grey . . . and suddenly right into a tabby cat with a broken ear, who was washing its face by the roadside. There was a whirl of claws and flying fur . . .
    ‘Get it now!’ yelled William. ‘Get it while they’re fighting.’
    Ginger seized the basket and effected the capture neatly, but not without a dozen or so more scratches. They fastened up the basket and resumed their journey
    ‘Well, you can’t say I din’t do that, can you?’ said Ginger, vaingloriously. ‘You can’t say I din’t do that pretty neatly! You can’t say you
helped much there. I bet if you’d all these scratches there’d be some sort of a fuss!’

    THE WHITE CAT RAN SUDDENLY INTO A TABBY CAT WITH A BROKEN EAR. THERE WAS A WHIRL OF FURY. ‘GET IT NOW!’ YELLED WILLIAM. ‘GET IT WHILE THEY’RE
FIGHTING!’
    ‘Yes, and who let it loose? That’s all I’m asking. Who let it loose? . . . Oh, come on! Let’s get it home. I’m about sick of it. I’m about sick of being his
cat-carrier!’
    They walked along in silence for a bit.
    ‘Seems a bit quieter, doesn’t it?’ said Ginger.
    ‘Speck it knows now it’s no use makin’ a fuss. Speck it din’t quite know before wot sort of cat-catchers we was.’
    ‘Let’s have another look at it, William!’
    ‘Oh, yes, an’ go lettin’ it loose all over the place again. Oh, yes, do!’
    ‘It’s quiet now. It’ll not mind me lookin’. I want to see if it’s got very dirty.’
    William weakened.
    ‘I’ll have a look at it this time,’ he said, ‘then p’raps it won’t get loose all over the place!’
    Cautiously he opened the basket lid. Over his face came a look of horror. It faded, leaving it grim and scornful.
    ‘Oh, yes, you did it,’ he said, with heavy sarcasm. ‘You did it pretty neatly, as you said you did. Oh, yes, I din’t help much. Oh, yes, you caught it.’
    He opened the basket wider. A friendly tabby, with a broken ear, regarded them and gave a tentative purr.
    ‘Oh, yes, you caught it all right, but you caught the wrong one!’
    Ginger looked at it, aghast, speechless. Then he pulled himself together.
    ‘Well, we’ll have to pretend that it’s the one.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said William. ‘She’ll believe it’s a valu’ble white cat, in a highly nervous state, won’t she? Oh, yes, she’s quite likely to believe
that!’
    They sat down by the roadside and stared at each other hopelessly. The tabby showed no signs of wishing to leave them, though, in their despair, they had left the basket open.
    ‘We – might do something to make it nervous,’ suggested Ginger, feebly.
    He began to make strange noises of obviously hostile and insulting intent to the cat. The cat began to purr. William watched with cold scorn.
    ‘Oh, yes, and then do somethin’ to make it valu’ble,