ling_ boy!"

When the babel had somewhat subsided, Mr. Brown came forward and laid
a hand on William's shoulder.

"I'm very pleased with you, my boy," he said. "You can buy anything
you like to-morrow up to five shillings."

William's bewildered countenance cleared.

"Thank you, father," he said meekly.

CHAPTER IV

THE KNIGHT AT ARMS

"A knight," said Miss Drew, who was struggling to inspire her class
with enthusiasm for Tennyson's "Idylls of the King," "a knight was a
person who spent his time going round succouring the oppressed."

"Suckin' wot?" said William, bewildered.

"Succour means to help. He spent his time helping anyone who was in
trouble."

"How much did he get for it?" asked William.

"Nothing, of course," said Miss Drew, appalled by the base
commercialism of the twentieth century. "He helped the poor because he
_loved_ them, William. He had a lot of adventures and fighting and he
helped beautiful, persecuted damsels."

William's respect for the knight rose.

"Of course," said Miss Drew hastily, "they needn't necessarily be
beautiful, but, in most of the stories we have, they were beautiful."

Followed some stories of fighting and adventure and the rescuing of
beautiful damsels. The idea of the thing began to take hold of
William's imagination.

"I say," he said to his chum Ginger after school, "that knight thing
sounds all right. Suckin'--I mean helpin' people an' fightin' an' all
that. I wun't mind doin' it an' you could be my squire."

"Yes," said Ginger slowly, "I'd thought of doin' it, but I'd thought
of _you_ bein' the squire."

"Well," said William after a pause, "let's be squires in turn. You
first," he added hastily.

"Wot'll you give me if I'm first?" said Ginger, displaying again the
base commercialism of his age.

William considered.

"I'll give you first drink out of a bottle of ginger-ale wot I'm goin'
to get with my next money. It'll be three weeks off 'cause they're
takin' the next two weeks to pay for an ole window wot my ball slipped
into by mistake."

He spoke with the bitterness that always characterised his statements
of the injustice of the grown-up world.

"All right," said Ginger.

"I won't forget about the drink of ginger-ale."

"No, you won't," said Ginger simply. "I'll remind you all right. Well,
let's set off."

"'Course," said William, "it would be _nicer_ with armour an' horses
an' trumpets, but I 'spect folks ud think anyone a bit so