“Yes; you be there, and if I’m not waiting I sha’n’t be long, and we’ll go on together.”
“What time shall I start?” I asked.
“When the men go to their dinner will do. I have some business at the far end of the town, and it will not be worth while for me to come back. I’ll take the other road.”
So it was settled, and I took my big stick down to the office, and a net satchel that was handy for anything when slung from the right shoulder and under my left arm. Before now it had carried fish, partridges, fruits, herbs, roots of plants, and oftener than anything else, lunch.
That seemed to be a long morning, although I wrote hard all the time so as to get a good day’s work over first; but at last the dinner-bell rang, and, saying good-bye to the others, I slipped the satchel into my pocket, took my stick, and started.
We had not thought of those who would be loitering about during their dinner-hour, but I soon found that they were thinking of me, for not only were our own men about the streets, but the men of the many other works around; and to my dismay I soon found that they all knew me by sight, and that they were ready to take notice of me in a very unpleasant way.
I was walking steadily on when a stone hit me in the leg, and instead of making haste and getting out of range, I stopped short and looked round angrily for my assailant.
I could see a dozen grinning faces, but it was of course impossible to tell who threw, and before I turned back an oyster-shell struck me in the back.
I turned round angrily and found myself the object of a tremendous shout of laughter.
Almost at the same moment I was struck by an old cabbage-stump and by a potato, while stones in plenty flew by my head.