William’s first instinct was to dart back and wait till they had passed. Then something about their figures struck him. They also had a dejected, dismal, hang-dog look. He waited for the first one, Henry. Henry gave him a shamefaced glance and was going to pass him by.
“You goin’ too?” said William.
Henry gasped in surprise.
“Did she come to your mother?” was his reply.
He was surprised to see Ginger and Douglas behind him and Ginger was surprised to see Douglas behind him. They walked together sheepishly in a depressed silence to the Village Hall. Once Ginger raised a hand to his throat.
“Gotter beas’ly throat,” he complained, “I didn’t ought to be out.”
“I’m ill, too,” said Henry; “I told ’em so.”
“An’ me,” said Douglas.
“An’ me,” said William with a hoarse, mirthless laugh. “Cruel sorter thing, sendin’ us all out ill like this.”
At the door of the Village Hall they halted, and William looked longingly towards the field.