WILLIAM--THE GOOD _By the Same Author_ (1) JUST WILLIAM (2) MORE WILLIAM (3) WILLIAM AGAIN (4) WILLIAM--THE FOURTH (5) STILL--WILLIAM (6) WILLIAM--THE CONQUEROR (7) WILLIAM--THE OUTLAW (8) WILLIAM--IN TROUBLE (9) WILLIAM--THE GOOD (10) WILLIAM (11) WILLIAM--THE BAD (12) WILLIAM’S HAPPY DAYS (13) WILLIAM’S CROWDED HOURS (14) WILLIAM--THE PIRATE (15) WILLIAM--THE REBEL (16) WILLIAM--THE GANGSTER (17) WILLIAM--THE DETECTIVE (18) SWEET WILLIAM (19) WILLIAM--THE SHOWMAN (20) WILLIAM--THE DICTATOR (21) WILLIAM AND A.R.P. (22) WILLIAM AND THE EVACUEES (23) WILLIAM DOES HIS BIT (24) WILLIAM CARRIES ON (25) WILLIAM AND THE BRAINS TRUST [Illustration: “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” THE STRANGER SAID MAJESTICALLY. “NO,” SAID WILLIAM SIMPLY. “AN’ I BET YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM, EITHER.” (_See page 51._)] WILLIAM--THE GOOD BY RICHMAL CROMPTON ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS HENRY LONDON GEORGE NEWNES LIMITED TOWER HOUSE, SOUTHAMPTON STREET STRAND, W.C. 2 _Copyright All Rights Reserved_ _First Published 1928 Nineteenth Impression 1948_ _Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons, Limited, London, Fakenham and Reading._ CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. WILLIAM--THE GOOD 13 II. WILLIAM--THE GREAT ACTOR 31 III. WILLIAM AND THE ARCHERS 63 IV. WILLIAM--THE MONEY MAKER 97 V. WILLIAM--THE AVENGER 120 VI. PARROTS FOR ETHEL 145 VII. ONE GOOD TURN 179 VIII. WILLIAM’S LUCKY DAY 200 IX. A LITTLE ADVENTURE 228 CHAPTER I WILLIAM--THE GOOD The Christmas holidays had arrived at last and were being celebrated by the Brown family in various ways. Ethel and her friends were celebrating it by getting up a play which was to be acted before the village on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Brown was celebrating it by having a whist drive, and William was celebrating it by having influenza. Though William is my hero, I will not pretend that he made a good invalid. On the contrary he made a very bad one. He possessed none of those virtues of patience, forbearance, and resignation necessary to a good invalid. William, suffering from influenza, was in a state of violent rebellion against fate. And he was even worse when the virulence of the attack had waned and he could sit up in bed and partake of nourishment. There was, he bitterly complained, nothing to do.