He has not tasted food for two whole days, and for all he knows may never taste it again.
So he sits there, with his eyes still on that football ground, and his ears ringing still with the merry shouts of the departed boys.
The scene changes as he stays on.

It is a football field still, but not the brown patch in a London park.

There are high trees, throwing shadows across the green turf, and in the distance an old red school- house.

And the boys are no longer the lively London urchins with their red, white, and blue bouncer.

They are in flannels, and their faces are familiar, and the names they call each other he knows.