And the
whole of life was sad and grey and dusty, and smelt of slight gas
escapes, and hot people, and cake and crumbs, and all the children
were very tired indeed.
They found a corner within sight of the carpet, and there they
waited miserably, till it was far beyond their proper bedtime. And
when it was ten the people who had bought things went away, but the
people who had been selling stayed to count up their money.
'And to jaw about it,' said Robert. 'I'll never go to another
bazaar as long as ever I live. My hand is swollen as big as a
pudding. I expect the nails in her horrible boots were poisoned.'
Just then some one who seemed to have a right to interfere said--
'Everything is over now; you had better go home.'
So they went. And then they waited on the pavement under the gas
lamp, where ragged children had been standing all the evening to
listen to the band, and their feet slipped about in the greasy mud
till Mrs Biddle came out and was driven away in a cab with the many
things she hadn't sold, and the few things she had bought--among
others the carpet. The other stall-holders left their things at
the school till Monday morning, but Mrs Biddle was afraid some one
would steal some of them, so she took them in a cab.
The children, now too desperate to care for mud or appearances,
hung on behind the cab till it reached Mrs Biddle's house.
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