"What's up?" he said in a husky voice, as if he had been dreaming that he had a cold. "Can't a chap have a minute to himself to read the paper in?"
"You told me to," said the woman. "You said if any folks come to the door with things I was to call you, whether or no."
Even now we were blind to the disaster that was entangling us in the meshes of its trap. Alice said—
"We've sold a good deal, but we've some things left—very nice things. These crochet needles——"
But the Police, who had buttoned up his tunic in a hurry, said quite fiercely—
"Let's have a look at your license."
"We didn't bring any," said Noël, "but if you will give us an order we'll bring you some to-morrow." He thought a lisen was a thing to sell that we ought to have thought of.
"None of your lip," was the unexpected reply of the now plainly brutal constable. "Where's your license, I say?"
"We have a license for our dog, but Father's got it," said Oswald, always quick-witted, but not, this time, quite quick enough.
"Your 'awker's license is what I want, as well you knows, you young limb. Your pedlar's license—your license to sell things. You ain't half so half-witted as you want to make out."