“Tell you what,” said Ginger, “let’s go an’ get it back.” William brightened.
“How?” he said.
“Oh ... sort of find out where she’s took it an’ get it back,” said Ginger vaguely, his spirits rising at the thought of possible adventure; “ought to be quite easy ... heaps more fun than hangin’ round here anyway.”
“OH, NO,” SAID MRS. BROWN. “THE SALE’S NOT REALLY
OPENED YET. WHAT SORT OF A COAT WAS IT?”
A cursory examination of the crowd who thronged the Vicarage garden revealed no black coat to the anxious Outlaws. William had been so intent upon asserting his own importance and upon impressing his watching friends that he had not noticed his customer at all. She had merely been a woman and he had an uneasy feeling that he would not recognise her again even if he were to meet her.
“I bet she’s not here,” said Ginger, “course she’s not here. She’ll’ve taken her coat home jolly quick I bet. She’d be afraid of someone comin’ an’ sayin’ it was a mistake. I bet she’ll be clearin’ off home pretty quick now—coat an’ all.”
The Outlaws went to the gate and looked up and down the road. The rest of the company were clustered round the lawn where the member, who was opening the Fête, had just got to the point where he was congratulating the stall holders on the beautiful and artistic appearance of the stalls, and wincing involuntarily whenever his gaze fell upon the bilious expanse of green and mauve bunting.
“There she is,” said Ginger suddenly, “there she is—walkin’ down the road in it—cheek!”
The figure of a woman wearing a black coat could be seen a few hundred yards down the road. The Outlaws wasted no further time in conversation but set off in pursuit. It was only when they were practically upon her that they realised the difficulty of confronting her and demanding the return of the coat which she had, after all, acquired by the right of purchase.