One of the reasons I loved the William stories was that my parents would read an entire chapter to me at bedtime rather than a bit at a time of a longer story such as The Hobbit – I much preferred the closure of a short tale. This will make me sound like an insufferable infant but I remember thinking at the age of about five that this one – in which William goes to some extreme lengths to get hold of a silk handkerchief – was the epitome of adult sophistication.
First published in Still William, Newnes, 1925
A Personal Anthology 