At this point the tall, thin man in front stopped and collected his flock around him. He wore a harassed and anxious expression.
"Now," he said, "are we all here? One—two—three—four," he counted to himself, wagging a thin forefinger round the group as he spoke.
"Plears, sir, William's a horphin," said Eglantine excitedly.
"Yes, yes," said the tall man. "Let me see—I seem to make you one too many, but no matter——William an orphan? How sad! Poor little fellow! Come along. We're going to play in the woods first, children, and then go to a kind friend's to tea. The vicar rang her up this morning and she very kindly offered to give you tea. Very kind! Very kind! Yes, yes. This way, I think."
Again the little procession moved on its way.
"Softie!" commented Eglantine scornfully. "'E's one of the swanks, 'e is! 'E's a friend of the vicar's, 'cause the vicar couldn't come. Ain't got no patience wiv 'em myself. Whoi carn't they talk like other folks?"
William redoubled his efforts to acquire his friend's intonation.
"Yes, whoi-oi'd loike ter know," he said aggressively, pulling his large and loud tweed cap yet farther over his eyes. The tall, thin man at the head of the procession stopped again.
"I'll just go into this house, children," he said, "and ask the way to the woods."
He went up the pathway and knocked at the door. The group of children clustered round the gate and watched him. The door was opened by a housemaid. The thin man disappeared inside. The door was shut.