At that moment the little old man came in. He started as his eye fell on William and Ginger.
“The thief!” he said excitedly. “The thief! Catch him, catch him, catch him!”
William dashed to the doorway, upsetting the old man and a wet canvas on his way. The old man landed on top of the canvas and sat there murmuring, “Oh, dear, oh dear, what a day!” and looking for his glasses.
The visitor pursued the two of them half-heartedly to the gate, and then returned to help in the work of separating the old gentleman from the wet canvas.
*****
William and Ginger sat in a neighbouring ditch and looked at each other breathlessly.
“Parks,” said Ginger, “that’s the shop at the end of the village.”
“Yes,” said William, “an’ I’m jus’ about sick of crawlin’ in ditches, an’ what’s wrong with it I’d like to know,” he went on, looking down indignantly at his limp skin, “it’s all right—not as clothes—but as a kind of dress-up thing it’s all right—as good as that ole pinnyfore she was wearing, an’ I jolly nearly said so—an’ ‘thief,’ too. Well, I wun’t go inside that house again, not if—not if—not if they asked me—Anyway,” his expression softened, “anyway, I got half a crown,” his expression grew bitter once more, “half a crown, an’ not even a pocket to put it in. Come on to Parks’.”
William returned to the ditch. They only passed a little girl and her small brother.
“Look, Algy,” said the little girl, “look at ’im. ’E’s a loony an’ the other’s ’is keeper. ’E thinks ’e’s a frog, prob’ly, an’ that’s why ’e goes in ditches, an’ doesn’t wear no clothes.”