Stysalski wheeled around with a scowl of irritation that he did not instantly conceal. Garth flushed slowly and slid his hand into his father's.
"Ex-cuse me," said the Count stiffly, with a needlessly elaborate bow. He turned sharply and went on, walking between Joan and Elspeth at a very slightly moderated pace; their attempts to go more slowly did not affect him at all. It was quite a steep hill, and the other two dropped behind. Jim helped Garth, and they talked about all sorts of things.
Presently they caught up with the rest, who were standing in front of Schmidt's butcher-shop.
"The Count has gone up to his rooms to get the tea-things and his flute," Joan explained.
Garth leaned against his father.
"Is the place where we're going many miles away, Fogger?" he asked, with the faintest of sighs.
"I'm going to carry you now," Jim replied. "I dare say it's halfway to Tewksville."
The Russian reappeared, bearing two large baskets very tidily covered with white napkins; and also his flute, in a case, under one arm.
