William, who was enjoying himself intensely, glared fiercely in the direction of the voice.
"Hush, hush, dear!" said the shocked voice of a parent. "Of course it isn't William Brown. It's a poor little boy from a distant land over the sea—or India's coral strand," she murmured vaguely.
"It is William Brown," persisted the shrill voice.
"He may bear a resemblance to William Brown," said the parent, "but William Brown is white, I suppose, and this little boy is black."
"Yes," said a small, half-convinced voice, "I s'pose so."
They approached the table.
"My little girl," said the parent pleasantly, "sees a resemblance in the child to one of her schoolfellows."
"Would you like to talk to the little boy?"
The little boy put out his tongue at her.
"A native form of greeting, doubtless," said the Vicar's wife.