"Well, how was I to know? I found him diggin' graves for the folks he'd murdered. I was trying to reform him—like what he said in church. How was I to know that he wasn't diggin' graves for the folks he'd murdered? I wanted to reform someone same as he said. He said he was a murderer too—he as near as near murdered Ginger an' me—how was I to know?"
The young man interrupted, with a quick movement and another shower of garden soil at which Mrs. Brown shut her eyes and breathed an inward prayer.
"Look here!" he said, "it was all a misunderstanding. I say, suppose you come to tea with me to-morrow and we bury the hatchet instead of the murdered—eh? I say, I'd better go and change, hadn't I?"
"I'll see you down the road," said Mr. Brown.
The young man went off, happily clasping his tin and scattering earth thickly around him.
The rest of the family turned up to William.
"Well, you've done it now!" said Ethel.
"I said Sunday wasn't over!" said Robert.
"The carpet is simply ruined!" moaned Mrs. Brown.
"Well—how was I to know?" said William desperately.