“Oh, dear,” said the Vicar’s wife, clutching her bundle of coats still more tightly to her. “Oh, dear, oh, dear!”
At that moment a woman pushed her way through the crowds up to the Vicar’s wife. It was Mrs. Bute.
“Brought it here, they did,” she panted. “Where is it? Thieves! Came into my hall bold as brass an’ took it!... There it is!” she glared suspiciously at the Vicar’s wife, “what’ve you got it for ... my coat ... I’d like to know. I’d——” She tore it out of her arms and the other coat too fell to the ground. “My other coat!” she screamed, “both my coats! Thieves—that’s what you all are! Thieves!”
“Where are those boys?” said the Vicar’s wife very faintly. But “those boys” had gone. William, resisting the strong temptation to go and enjoy the spectacle of the Member foaming at the mouth, had hastily withdrawn his little band to a safe distance.
******
They were found, of course, and brought back. They were forced to give explanations. They were forced to apologise to all concerned, even to Miss Poll (who forgave them because she’d had such a perfectly ripping afternoon and her little show gone off so sweetly and everyone been so adorable). They were sent home in disgrace.... William was despatched to bed on dry bread and water, but being quite tired by the day’s events and the bread happening to be new and unlimited in quantity, William’s manly spirit survived the indignity.
And William’s mother said the next day: “I knew what would happen.” (William’s mother always said that she knew it would happen after it had safely—or dangerously—happened.) “I knew that if I let William come and help everything would go wrong. It always does. Selling people’s coats and stealing people’s coats and getting that awful woman to come that we’d sworn we’d never have again and stopping the Member speaking when he’d taken ages over preparing his speech, and upsetting the whole thing—well, if anyone had told me beforehand that one boy William’s size could upset a whole afternoon like that I simply shouldn’t have believed them.”
And William’s father said: “Well, I warned you, William. I told you they were difficult beasts to manage. Of course, if you lose control of a whole herd of white elephants like that they’re bound to do some damage.”
And William said disgustedly: “I’m just sick of white elephants and black coats. I’m going out to play Red Indians.”