“I’ve got your coat up here.”
Mr. Bott threw a startled glance up into the tree whence the voice came. From among the leaves a stern, freckled, snub-nosed, wild-haired face glared down at him.
“I’ll give you your coat,” said William, “’f you’ll promise to let Bob stay.”
Mr. Bott clasped his dripping head with a dripping hand.
“Bob?”
“Bob Andrews what you’re sending away for nothing.”
Mr. Bott tried to look dignified in spite of the chattering of his teeth and the water that poured from his hair down his face.
“I have my reasons, child,” he said, “of which you know nothing. Will you kindly give me back my coat? I’m afraid you are a very naughty, ill-behaved little boy to do a thing like this and if you aren’t careful I’ll tell the police about it.”
“I’ll give you your coat if you’ll promise not to send Bob away,” said William again sternly.
“I shall most certainly speak to your father and the police,” said Mr. Bott. “You’re a very impudent little boy! Give me my coat at once.”