“Let’s go an’ fin’ them,” said Aunt Harriet.
They passed out after the manner of Royalty, a lane being made.
Mr. Alcock was dispatched in quest of the revellers, while Mr. Barnham, now sole warden of virtue, took up a central position and stared about him with an air of apologetic defiance.
After a suspiciously long absence, his colleague returned to say that the other squires were not to be found.
“They’re gone to the Arms, the greedies,” decided Aunt Harriet. “That’s where they’re gone. Never mind.”
A rich clearance of Mr. Barnham’s throat declared that he was labouring of plan.
“Let’s take a stroll down,” he suggested, “an’ ketch them as they come back.”
Economy had driven him to speak.
A premature return to their seats meant that the girl who sold chocolates would offer her tempting wares. This offer he would be bound in decency to frank. The acceptance or rejection thereof would rest with May—and Mr. Barnham did not trust May. . . .
His misgivings were well founded.