William wearily rose from his bed and made an unconvincing spring
in her direction.

But on to the stage leapt Cuthbert once more, the vision in blue and
white with golden curls shining and sword again drawn.

"Ha! evil beast----"

It was too much for William. The heat and discomfort of his attire,
the sight of the hated Cuthbert already about to embrace _his_ Joan,
goaded him to temporary madness. With a furious gesture he burst the
pins which attached the dining-room hearth-rug to his person and freed
his arms. He tore off the white nightgown. He sprang at the petrified
Cuthbert--a small wild figure in a jersey suit and a wolf's head.

[Illustration: THE SIGHT OF THE HATED CUTHBERT ABOUT TO EMBRACE HIS
JOAN GOADED WILLIAM TO TEMPORARY MADNESS.]

Mrs. de Vere Carter had filled Red Riding-Hood's basket with
packages of simple groceries, which included, among other things, a
paper bag of flour and a jar of jam.

William seized these wildly and hurled handfuls of flour at the
prostrate, screaming Cuthbert. The stage was suddenly pandemonium. The
other small actors promptly joined the battle. The prompter was too
panic-stricken to lower the curtain. The air was white with clouds of
flour. The victim scrambled to his feet and fled, a ghost-like figure,
round the table.

"Take him off me," he yelled. "Take him _off_ me. Take William off
me." His wailing was deafening.

The next second he was on the floor, with William on top of him.
William now varied the proceedings by emptying the jar of jam on to
Cuthbert's face and hair.

They were separated at last by the prompter and stage manager, while
the audience rose and cheered hysterically. But louder than the
cheering rose the sound of Cuthbert's lamentation.

"He'th a nathty, rough boy! He puthed me down. He'th methed my nith
clotheth. Boo-hoo!"

Mrs. de Vere Carter was inarticulate.

"That boy ... that _boy_ ... _that boy_!" was all she could say.

William was hurried away by his family before she could regain speech.

"You've disgraced us publicly," said Mrs. Brown plaintively. "I
thought you must have gone _mad_. People will never forget it. I
might have known...."

When pressed for an explanation William would only say:

"Well, I felt hot. I felt awful hot, an' I di'n't like Cuthbert."

He appeared to think this sufficient explanation, though he was fully
prepared for the want of sympathy displayed by his family.

"Well," he said firmly, "I'd just li