But the giant understood. "We needn't pay any attention to them just now," he said. "They'll neither see nor hear us as long as we just stand here. It's only when we try to get into the temple that they become really terrible."
"And what do they do then?" asked Everychild.
"Various dreadful things. Mr. Benevolent Institution would lock us up where we'd see the sky only now and then and where we'd have to wear uniforms, and all act alike and eat alike, and go to sleep and wake up together."
Everychild shuddered and moved closer to his companion. "Don't speak so loud, please," he said. "And what about the others?"
"Mr. Orthodox Doctrine is one of those fellows … well, he used to burn you, you know; but now he freezes you."
"And the others?"
"It's not easy to explain. The lady—Mrs. Justitia—has a habit … I hate to say it, but she's forever asking you how much money you've got, and whether you've got any influential friends (if you could only know what she means by that!)—questions of that sort, which a nice person wouldn't ask you."
"It's all very strange," whispered Everychild. "And the one with the red nose?" he asked finally.
"Mr. Policeman. He isn't really as bad as the rest of them. All he does is hit you over the head with a club and turn you over to the lady—to her with the bandage that's always slipping off."
There was a silence, and then Everychild remarked: "Still, it's not plain why they're all sitting around here where your—your mother …"