The next house they had to pass was the house where Joan lived. To her consternation, Joan saw a figure in a black dress and white apron at the gate. It was too late to turn to flee.
"Well, I never, Miss Joan. Your mother says you're to come in at once. She's in a terrible state over you--where _'ave_ you been?"
"I _must_ go home with William," pleaded Joan.
"That you must not," said the housemaid, taking her hand. "Your mother said I was to find you and tell you to come in immediate. You've 'ad no tea nor nothin'. As for you," she turned a devastatingly scornful eye upon William, "dressin' up an' thinkin' you're so funny--well, you won't get _me_ laughin' at you--you oughter be ashamed of yourself."
With a contemptuous sniff she led away the reluctant Joan. William continued his pilgrimage alone. He went slowly. He went slowly for two reasons. One was that the thought of the journey down the village street filled even William's heart with apprehension.
The other was that his trousers were coming unrolled and his hands were so far up the long sleeves of the coat that he could not extricate them. He was glad that dusk was at last falling. He was aware that a tall figure was approaching from the opposite direction. He shrank into the shadow of the hedge, and hoped that it would pass without observing him. It did not. It stood in front of him, barring his way, and slowly adjusted a monocle. With a sinking heart, William looked up into the face of Joan's father.
"Excuse me, young man," said that gentleman, "but either you and I patronise the same tailor and have had identical ideas this spring as to style and material, or--or," his hand descended firmly and held the back of William's neck, "_or_ you are wearing a suit of my clothes, in which case I must ask you to come home with me and take them off."
He began to impel William gently back towards his house.
"If you'd jus' let me _explain_," said William, pathetically.
"Explanations," said Mr. Clive, transferring his hold from William's neck to the collar of his coat, "are tedious, unsatisfactory things. Why trouble yourself with them? I merely ask of you, as one gentleman of another, that you will return to me the garments that you seem to have absentmindedly appropriated."