Now, the minute hand was over the edge of the number, and he began to deliberate whether he might not rest for another five minutes?
But he had been such a long time already on his errand that he dismissed the thought.

The minute hand was now upright and it was time to go on.
Just as he was about to get up a harsh voice behind him said: 'How much longer are you going to sit there ?' Bert started up guiltily, and found himself confronted by Mr Rushton, who was regarding him with an angry frown, whilst close by towered the colossal figure of the obese Sweater, the expression on his greasy countenance betokening the pain he experienced on beholding such as appalling example of juvenile depravity.
'What do you mean by sich conduct ?' demanded Rushton, indignantly.

'The idear of sitting there like that when most likely the men are waiting for them things ?' Crimson with shame and confusion, the boy made no reply.
'You've been there a long time,' continued Rushton, 'I've been watchin' you all the time I've been comin' down the road.' Bert tried to speak to explain why he had been resting, but his mouth and his tongue had become quite parched from terror and he was unable to articulate a single word.
'You know, that's not the way to get on in life, my boy,' observed Sweater lifting his forefinger and shaking his fat head reproachfully.
'Get along with you at once!' Rushton said, roughly.

'I'm surprised at yer! The idear! Sitting down in my time!' This was quite true.

Rushton was not merely angry, but astonished at the audacity of the boy.