"Never mind," said the lady, "you shall have one happy afternoon, at any rate."
She took him to the village shop and bought him chocolates, and sweets, and bananas, and a top. William found some difficulty in retaining an expression suggestive of an unhappy home life, but he managed it fairly successfully.
He began to feel very sleepy on the way home. He had had a lovely time. His pockets were full of sweets and chocolates, and he held his top in his hand. He even felt that he could forgive his family. He'd heap coals of fire on Robert's head by giving him a chocolate.... He was almost asleep when the char-à-banc drew up at the post-office. Everyone began to descend. He took a polite and distant farewell of the elderly lady and set off for his home. But he found that the elderly lady was coming with him.
"Where do you live?" she said.
"Oh," said William vaguely, "jus' somewhere along here."
"I'm coming to see your father," said the lady in a determined voice.
William was aghast.
"Oh—er—I wun't do that if I was you!" he said.
"I often find," she said, "that a drunkard does not realise what unhappiness he makes in his home. I often find that a few words of warning are taken to heart——"
"You'd better not," said William desperately. "He dun't mind wot he does! He'd throw knives at you or shoot you or cut your head off soon as not. He'll be jus' mad drunk when we get in. He went off to the public-house jus' after breakfast. You'd better not come near our house.... All I say is, you might jus' as well be dead as coming to our house."