" Very well," said his captor meaningly, " I shall call to see your father about it. Go away out of my garden at once."
With great dignity William gathered up his jar of fishes, his net, stuffed the pile of apples into his pockets (his pockets held a good number of apples as William had made a convenient hole through which they could descend to the lining), kicked his pile of cores into the pond, put on his bedraggled cap, raised it as politely as he could considering his many burdens, stooped down to pick up a fish that the effort of raising his cap had displaced from his jar, and with a courteous "Good mornin' " walked very slowly and with an indescribable swagger across the orchard to the lawn, across the lawn to the front drive, and down to the front gate. He wasn't going to give away his hole to her. At the front gate he turned, raised his cap to her again, dropped his net and another fish, picked them up without any undue haste and strolled out into the road.
As he walked homewards he couldn't help thinking that he'd carried off the situation with something of an air. But that feeling of gratification was of short duration. She had said that she was going to tell his father, and he was pretty sure that a woman who could grip like that would be as good as her word. It meant, besides any other incidental unpleasantness, that an end would be put to his fishing activities and that, as likely as not, his aquarium would be thrown away. He still retained bitter memories of the wholesale destruction of a laboriously-acquired collection of insects that he had kept secretly in the spare room wardrobe until it was found and destroyed.
In a vague desire to propitiate authority he made an elaborate toilet for lunch—changing his socks and shoes, completely removing several layers of mud from his knees, brushing his suit, washing his face and hands, and severely punishing his hair. His mother greeted