He dawdled over the books, he hunted in wrong places for his cap and comforter, he lingered till the last boy had clattered through the doorway, and left him with a group of elders who closed the proceedings and locked up the school.

But after this further delay was impossible.

The whole party moved out into the moonlight, and the Rector and his son, the schoolmaster and the teachers, commenced, a sedate parish gossip, whilst Bill trotted behind, wondering whether any possible or impossible business would take one of them his way.
But when the turning point was reached, the Rector destroyed all his hopes.
"None of us go your way, I think," said he, as lightly as if there were no grievance in the case; "however, it's not far.

Good-night, my boy!" And so with a volley of good-nights, the cheerful voices passed on up the village.

Bill stood till they had quite died away, and then when all was silent, he turned into the lane.
The cold night-wind crept into his ears, and made uncomfortable noises among the trees, and blew clouds over the face of the moon.