Page 76 - The English Carnival 7

‘Yes, mummy,’ I said.

‘A real gentleman,’ she went on. ‘Wealthy, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a silk
umbrella. I shouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t a titled person. Sir Harry Goldsworthy or
something like that.’

’Yes, mummy.’

‘This will be a very good lesson to you,’ she went on. ‘Never rush things. Always take
your time when you are summing someone up.

Then you’ll never make mistakes.’

‘There he goes,’ I said. ’Look.’

‘Where?’

‘Over there. He’s crossing the street. Goodness, mummy, what a hurry he’s in.’

We watched the little man as he dodged nimbly in and out of the traffic. When he
reached the other side of the street, he turned left, walking very fast.

‘He doesn’t look very tired to me, does he to you, mummy?’

My mother didn’t answer.

‘He doesn’t look as though he’s trying to get a taxi, either,’ I said.

My mother was standing very still and stiff, staring across the street at the little man. We
could see him clearly. He was in a terrific hurry. He was bustling along the pavement,

sidestepping the other pedestrians and swinging his arms like a soldier on the march.
‘He’s up to something,’ my mother said, stony-faced.

‘But what?’

‘I don’t know,’ my mother snapped. ‘But I’m going to find out. Come with me.’ She
took my arm and we crossed the street together. Then we turned left.

‘Can you see him?’ my mother asked.

‘Yes. There he is. He’s turning right down the next street.’

We came to the corner and turned right. The little man was about twenty yards ahead

of us. He was scuttling along like a rabbit and we had to walk very fast to keep up
with him. The rain was pelting down harder than ever now and I could see it dripping
from the brim of him hat on to his shoulders. But we were snug and dry under our
lovely big silk umbrella.

‘What is he up to?’ my mother said.

‘What if he turns round and sees us?’ I asked.

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