"You're a nathty rude little boy," he said. "I'll tell my mother."

Thus war was declared.

He came to tea the next day. Not all William's pleading could persuade
his mother to cancel the invitation.

"Well," said William darkly, "wait till you've _seen_ him, that's all.
Wait till you've heard him _speakin'_. He can't talk even. He can't
_play_. He tells fairy stories. He don't like _dirt_. He's got long
hair an' a funny long coat. He's _awful_, I tell you. I don't _want_
to have him to tea. I don't want to be washed an' all just because
_he's_ comin' to tea."

But as usual William's eloquence availed nothing.

Several people came to tea that afternoon, and there was a sudden
silence when Mrs. Clive, Joan, and Cuthbert entered. Cuthbert was in a
white silk tunic embroidered with blue, he wore white shoes and white
silk socks. His golden curls shone. He looked angelic.

"Oh, the darling!"

"Isn't he adorable?"

"What a _picture_!"

"Come here, sweetheart."