Ginger turned and fled at the sight of her. Lady Barbara held William’s hand fast. William hesitated till flight was impossible.
“Oh, there you are, darling,” the lady said.
“Dear, nice boy,” said Lady Barbara. “He’s been playing with me all the time. And the other—but the other’s gone. It’s been lovely. I do love him. May we keep him?”
“Darling,” said the lady, “I’ve only just heard you were lost. Nanny’s in a dreadful state. And this little boy found you and took care of you? Dear little boy!”
She bent down and kissed the outraged and horrified William. “How very kind of you to look after my little girl and bring her back so nicely. Now come and have some tea.”
She led William, too broken in spirit to resist, up the steps into the hall, then into a room. Lady Barbara still held his hand tightly. There was tea in the room and people. Horror of horrors! It was his mother and Ethel. There were confused explanations.
“And her nurse went to sleep, and she must have wandered off and got lost, and your little boy found her, and played with her, and looked after her, and brought her back for tea. Dear little man!”
A man entered—the man who had accosted William on the road. He was evidently the father of the little girl. The story was repeated to him.
“Great!” he said, looking at William with amusement and a certain sympathy in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying the situation. William glared at him.
“An’ he rode me on his back, and gave me rides in the box, and made me a swing, and put on a funny face to make me laugh.”