“You know,” said Mr. Cheytor, “I wouldn’t bother about politics if I were you. They’re very confusing mentally. Suppose you tell me how you got here.”
“I got out of my window and climbed along our wall to the road,” said William simply, “and then I got on to your wall and climbed along it into your window.”
“Now you’re here,” said Mr. Cheytor, “we may as well celebrate. Do you like roasted chestnuts?”
“Um-m-m-m-m-m,” said William.
“Well, I’ve got a bag of chestnuts downstairs—we can roast them at the fire. I’ll get them. By the way, suppose your people find you’ve gone?”
“My uncle may’ve come to see my father by now, so I don’t mind not being at home jus’ now.”
Mr. Cheytor accepted this explanation.
“I’ll go down for the chestnuts then,” he said.
*****
Fortune was kind to William. His uncle was very busy and thought he would put off the laying of his complaint before William’s father till the next week. The next week he was still more busy. Encountering William unexpectedly in the street he was struck by William’s (hastily assumed) expression of wistful sadness, and decided that the whole thing may have been a misunderstanding. So the complaint was never laid.