ut William's father's doctor had ordered
him a complete rest and change.

"We shall have to take William with us, you know," his wife had said
as they discussed plans.

"Good heavens!" groaned Mr. Brown. "I thought it was to be a _rest_
cure."

"Yes, but you know what he is," his wife urged. "I daren't leave him
with anyone. Certainly not with Ethel. We shall have to take them
both. Ethel will help with him."

Ethel was William's grown-up sister.

"All right," agreed her husband finally. "You can take all
responsibility. I formally disown him from now till we get back. I
don't care _what_ trouble he lands you in. You know what he is and you
deliberately take him away with me on a rest cure!"

"It can't be helped dear," said his wife mildly.

William was thrilled by the news. It was several years since he had
been at the seaside.

"Will I be able to go swimmin'?"

"It _won't_ be too cold! Well, if I wrap up warm, will I be able to go
swimmin'?"

"Can I catch fishes?"

"Are there lots of smugglers smugglin' there?"

"Well, I'm only _askin'_, you needn't get mad!"

One afternoon Mrs. Brown missed her best silver tray and searched the
house high and low for it wildly, while dark suspicions of each
servant in turn arose in her usually unsuspicious breast.

It was finally discovered in the garden. William had dug a large hole
in one of the garden beds. Into the bottom of this he had fitted the
tray and had lined the sides with bricks. He had then filled it with
water, and taking off his shoes and stockings stepped up and down his
narrow pool. He was distinctly aggrieved by Mrs. Brown's reproaches.

"Well, I was practisin' paddlin', ready for goin' to the seaside. I
didn't _mean_ to rune your tray. You talk as if I _meant_ to rune your
tray. I was only practisin' paddlin'."

At last the day of departure arrived. William was instructed to put
his things ready on his bed, and his mother would then come and pack
for him. He summoned her proudly over the balusters after about twenty
minutes.

"I've got everythin' ready, Mother."

Mrs. Brown ascended to his room.

Upon his bed was a large pop-gun, a football, a dormouse in a cage, a
punchball on a stand, a large box of "curios," and a buckskin which
was his dearest possession and had been presented to him by an uncle
from South Africa.

Mrs. Brown sat down weakly on a chair.

"You can't possibly take any of these things," she said faintly but
firmly.