He paused for applause, which was set going by the Vicar's wife, who was the tall, thin lady in the small sailor hat.
"The Reverend Habbakuk Jones, who is—er—at the native mission school, has come—er—over to see us—bringing—er—our little native protégé." Again he smiled lovingly and drew near to William. William, whose mouth was fuller of currant bun than European etiquette would have sanctioned, raised his face, and, without interrupting the process of mastication, gave Mr. Theophilus Mugg such a look as sent him precipitately to the farther end of the table.
"Er—protégé," said Mr. Theophilus Mugg uncomfortably. "The Reverend Habbakuk Jones wrote this—er—morning to say that he would call with the—er—child"—he looked distrustfully at William—"and leave him in our—er—loving care—while he—er—visited a relative in the—er—vicinity. He—er—promised to be—er—with us—by half-past three to—er—deliver his address. He—er—evidently dropped his address. He—er—evidently dropped the—er—little boy—at the gate and—er—will soon be—er—present himself."
WILLIAM ROSE TO THE OCCASION. "BLINKELY MEN
ONG," HE SAID CLEARLY.
He sat down as far away from William's eye as possible and wiped his brow. A crowd with a large preponderance of the feminine element gathered round William as he drained the last drop of milk. A fat, motherly woman handed him a piece of chocolate gingerly, as though he were a strange sort of wild animal.
"I wonder if he'll speak," said someone wistfully.
"I expect he'll make some sort of thanks for the bun and milk and chocolates," suggested someone else.
"Not in English, I expect," said a third hopefully.
William rose to the occasion.