Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word, it means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said:
"I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don't you terrify yourself."
People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry.
So Dora shoved in a gentle oar. She said:
"We want to know the kind lady's name and address, so that we can write and thank her for being so jolly that day."
B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady's address being goods he was often asked for. Alice said, "But do tell us. We forgot to ask her. She's a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so want to thank her properly. And if you've got any extra strong peppermints at a penny an ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound."
This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints his heart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paper bag, Dora said, "What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us."
And B. Munn's heart was now quite melted, and he said:
"It's Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars—about a mile down the Maidstone Road."
We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a little anxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noël had got the money all right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good deal of it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other.