Mr. Grimes seemed to check off the two children. “You’re Joan,” he said. “I needn’t bother about you. You’re provided for. Peter. Peter’s our business.”
He got out a pocket-book and pencil. “Let’s look at you, Peter. Just come out here, will you?”
Peter obeyed reluctantly and suspiciously.
“No stockings. Don’t they wear stockings at that school of yours?”
“Not when we don’t want them,” said Peter. “No.”
“’Mazes me you wear anything,” said Mr. Grimes. “S’pose it’ll come to that. Let’s see your hat.”
“Haven’t got a hat,” said Peter. “Wouldn’t wear it if I had.”
“Wouldn’t you!” said Mr. Grimes. “H’m!”
“Nice little handful,” said Mr. Grimes, and hummed. He produced a paper from the pocket-book and read it, rubbing his teeth with the point of his pencil.
“Lersee whassor outfit we wan’,” said Mr. Grimes. “H’m.... H’m.... H’m....”