She looked inquiringly at Robert, who said, 'With pleasure, don't
mention it,' and dived back under Mrs Biddle's stall.

'I wonder you encourage such behaviour,' said Mrs Biddle. '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. 'Then Charles has not forgotten,
after all.'

'Excuse me,' said Mrs Biddle, with fierce politeness, 'these
objects are deposited behind MY stall. Some unknown donor who does
good by stealth, and would blush if he could hear you claim the
things. Of course they are for me.'

'My stall touches yours at the corner,' said poor Miss Peasmarsh,
timidly, 'and my cousin did promise--'