d said, "Go round to the
tradesmen's entrance--go to the back door." Then he slammed the door
shut.

I felt inclined to throw the shoes into the middle of his flower-bed.
But I thought my father might be angry, so I didn't. I went round to the
back door, and there the Colonel's wife met me and took the shoes from
me. She looked a timid little woman and had her hands all over flour as
though she were making bread. She seemed to be terribly afraid of her
husband whom I could still hear stumping round the house somewhere,
grunting indignantly because I had come to the front door. Then she
asked me in a whisper if I would have a bun and a glass of milk. And I
said, "Yes, please." After I had eaten the bun and milk, I thanked the
Colonel's wife and came away. Then I thought that before I went home
I would go and see if the Doctor had come back yet. I had been to his
house once already that morning. But I thought I'd just like to go
and take another look. My squirrel wasn't getting any better and I was
beginning to be worried about him.

So I turned into the Oxenthorpe Road and started off towards the
Doctor's house. On the way I noticed that the sky was clouding over and
that it looked as though it might rain.

I reached the gate and found it still locked. I felt very discouraged. I
had been coming here every day for a week now. The dog, Jip, came to
the gate and wagged his tail as usual, and then sat down and watched me
closely to see that I didn't get in.

I began to fear that my squirrel would die before the Doctor came back.
I turned away sadly, went down the steps on to the road and turned
towards home again.

I wondered if it were supper-time yet. Of course I had no watch of my
own, but I noticed a gentleman coming towards me down the road; and
when he got nearer I saw it was the Colonel out for a walk. He was all
wrapped up in smart overcoats and mufflers and bright-colored gloves. It
was not a very cold day but he had so many clothes on he looked like a
pillow inside a roll of blankets. I asked him if he would please tell me
the time.

He stopped, grunted and glared down at me--his red face growing redder
still; and when he spoke it sounded like the cork coming out of a
gingerbeer-bottle.

"Do you imagine for one moment," he spluttered, "that I am going to get
myself all unbuttoned just to tell a little boy like you THE TIME!" And
he went stumping down the street, grunting harder than ever.

I stood still