Moreover, no one had discovered William’s absence from his bedroom. William came down to breakfast the next day with a distinct feeling of fear, but one glance at his preoccupied family relieved him. He sat down at his place with that air of meekness which in him always betrayed an uneasy conscience. His father looked up.
“Good morning, William,” he said. “Care to see the paper this morning? I suppose with your new zeal for politics——”
“Oh, politics!” said William contemptuously. “I’ve given ’em up. They’re so—so,” frowning he searched in his memory for the phrase, “They’re so—confusing ment’ly.”
His father looked at him.
“Your vocabulary is improving,” he said.
“You mean my hair?” said William with a gloomy smile. “Mother’s been scrubbin’ it back with water same as what she said.”
William walked along the village street with Ginger. Their progress was slow. They stopped in front of each shop window and subjected the contents to a long and careful scrutiny.
“There’s nothin’ there I’d buy ’f I’d got a thousand pounds.”
“Oh, isn’t there? Well, I jus’ wonder. How much ’ve you got, anyway?”
“Nothin’. How much have you?”