“Gettem quick,” he said.
The boy retreated to the shop and closed the door except for a small crack. Through that crack he shouted, “We din’ want no narsty, mangy, mouldy, cast-off clothes from no one. We gived ’em to Johnsons up the village.”
Then he banged the door.
William, in fury, kicked the door, and a crowd of small boys collected. William, perceiving them, fled through the hedge and into the field. The small boys followed, uttering derisive cries.
“Look at ’im—Look at ’im—’e’s a cannibal—he’s got no clothes—’e’s out of a circus—’e’s balmy—’e’s wearin’ ’is mother’s fur.”
William turned on them in fury.
“I’m a Nanshunt——” he began, rushing upon them; and they fled in panic.
William and Ginger sat down behind a haystack.
“Well, you’re very clever at gettin’ back my clothes, aren’t you?” said William with heavy sarcasm.
“I’m gettin’ jus’ about sick of your clothes,” said Ginger gloomily.