Crouching behind the chair, he braced himself for the crime; he measured the distance between the chair and the garden gate.
One, two, three—then suddenly the portly form stirred, the handkerchief was firmly withdrawn by a podgy hand, and a dignified voice yawned and said: “Heigh-ho!”
At the same moment the Bishop sat up. William, from his refuge behind the chair, looked wildly round. The door of the house was opening. There was only one thing to do. William was as nimble as a monkey. Like a flash of lightning he disappeared up the tree. It was a very leafy tree. It completely concealed William, but William had a good bird’s eye view of the world beneath him. The Vicar came out rubbing his hands.
“You rested, my Lord?” he said.
“I’m afraid I’ve had forty winks,” said His Lordship pleasantly. “Just dropped off, you know. I dreamt about that boy who was at the meeting this afternoon.”
“What boy, my Lord?” asked the Vicar.
“I noticed him at the Sale of Work and the meeting—he looked—he looked a soulful boy. I daresay you know him.”
The Vicar considered.
“I can’t think of any boy round here like that,” he said.
