e
door with things I was to call you, whether or no."

Even now we were blind to the disaster that was entangling us in the
meshes of its trap. Alice said--

"We've sold a good deal, but we've _some_ things left--very nice things.
These crochet needles----"

But the Police, who had buttoned up his tunic in a hurry, said quite
fiercely--

"Let's have a look at your license."

"We didn't bring any," said Noel, "but if you will give us an order
we'll bring you some to-morrow." He thought a lisen was a thing to sell
that we ought to have thought of.

"None of your lip," was the unexpected reply of the now plainly brutal
constable. "Where's your license, I say?"

"We have a license for our dog, but Father's got it," said Oswald,
always quick-witted, but not, this time, quite quick enough.

"Your 'awker's license is what I want, as well you knows, you young
limb. Your pedlar's license--your license to sell things. You ain't half
so half-witted as you want to make out."

"We haven't got a pedlar's license," said Oswald. If we had been in a
book the Police would have been touched to tears by Oswald's simple
honesty. He would have said "Noble boy!" and then gone on to say he had
only asked the question to test our honour. But life is not really at
all the same as books. I have noticed lots of differences. Instead of
behaving like the book-Police, this thick-headed constable said--

"Blowed if I wasn't certain of it! Well, my young blokes, you'll just
come along o' me to Sir James. I've got orders to bring up the next case
afore him."

"_Case!_" said Dora. "_Oh, don't!_ We didn't know we oughtn't to. We
only wanted----"

"Ho, yes," said the constable, "you can tell all that to the magistrate;
and anything you say will be used against you."

"I'm sure it will," said Oswald. "Dora, don't lower yourself to speak to
him. Come, we'll go home."

The Police was combing its hair with a half-toothless piece of comb, and
we turned to go. But it was vain.

Ere any of our young and eager legs could climb into the cart the Police
had seized the donkey's bridle. We could not desert our noble steed--and
besides, it wasn't really ours, but Bates's, and this made any hope of
flight quite a forlorn one. For better, for worse, we had to go with the
donkey.

"Don't cry, for goodness' sake!" said Oswald in stern undertones. "Bite
your lips. Take long breaths. Don't let him see we mind. This beast's
only the village police. Sir J