At last he struck into a narrow lane, just as the sun sank. He halted for a moment to consider his direction.
"Pat—pat—pat."
He looked up. A little girl in an immense sun-bonnet was toddling up the lane towards him. She swung a satchel in her left hand, and at sight of the stranger paused with her unoccupied forefinger in mouth.
Mr. Fogo advanced straight up to her, stooped with his hands on his knees, and peered into her face. This behaviour, though necessitated by his shortness of sight, worked the most paralysing effect on the child.
"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"
There was no answer. Mr. Fogo peered more closely.
"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"
Still there was no answer.
"Little girl—"
"Cl'k—whir-r-r-r-roo-oo !"