“Well, it’s the Police Station,” said William. “Go in if you want.”
With that he turned on his heel and walked home, without one backward glance. But he walked slowly, with many encouraging “Hey! Jumbles” and many short commanding whistles. And Jumble trotted happily at his heels. There was no one in the garden, there was no one in the hall, there was no one on the stairs. Fate was for once on William’s side.
William appeared at the tea-table well washed and brushed, wearing that air of ostentatious virtue that those who knew him best connected with his most daring coups.
“Did you take that dog to the Police Station, William?” said William’s father.
JUMBLE TROTTED ALONG UNCONSCIOUS OF HIS DOOM.
“Yes, father,” he said meekly with his eyes upon his plate.
“What did they say about it?”
“Nothing, father.”