“Now, yer young rascals—we’ve got yer!”
******
Into Mr. Bott’s library were ushered two keepers, each leading two children by the neck. One held two rough-looking boys. The other held a rough-looking boy and a rough-looking little girl. A dejected-looking mongrel followed the procession.
“Trespassin’, sir,” said the first keeper, “trespassin’ an’ a-damagin’ of the woods. Old ’ands, too. Seen ’em at it before but never caught ’em till now. An’ a dawg too. It’s an example making of they want, sir. They want prosecutin’ if I may make so bold. A-damagin’ of the woods and a-bringing of a dawg——”
“WE’VE FOUND HER,” ANNOUNCED WILLIAM, AND VIOLET
ELIZABETH TOOK A STEP FORWARD. “IT’S ME,” SHE
PIPED.
Mr. Bott who was new to squiredom and had little knowledge of what was expected of him and moreover was afflicted at the moment with severe private domestic worries, cast a harassed glance at the four children. His glance rested upon Violet Elizabeth without the faintest flicker of recognition. He did not recognise her. He knew Violet Elizabeth. He saw her at least once or almost once a day. He knew her quite well. He knew her by her ordered flaxen curls, pink and white face and immaculate bunchy skirts. He did not know this little creature with the torn, stained, bedraggled dress (there was nothing bunchy about it now) whose extremely dirty face could just be seen beneath the tangle of untidy hair that fell over her eyes. She watched him silently and cautiously. Just as he was going to speak Violet Elizabeth’s nurse entered. It says much for Violet Elizabeth’s disguise that her nurse only threw her a passing glance. Violet Elizabeth’s nurse’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“GOD BLESS MY SOUL,” EXCLAIMED MR. BOTT, PEERING
AT THE APPARITION. “IT’S IMPOSSIBLE.”
“Please, sir, Mrs. Bott says is there any news?”