'I always speak my mind, as you know, Miss Peasmarsh; and, I must say, I am surprised.' She turned to the crowd.

'There is no entertainment here,' she said sternly.

'A very naughty little boy has accidentally hurt himself, but only slightly.

Will you please disperse?
It will only encourage him in naughtiness if he finds himself the centre of attraction.' The crowd slowly dispersed.

Anthea, speechless with fury, heard a nice curate say, 'Poor little beggar!' and loved the curate at once and for ever.
Then Robert wriggled out from under the stall with some Benares brass and some inlaid sandalwood boxes.
'Liberty!' cried Miss Peasmarsh.