rst
time? It must, of course, be so. No matter how many times he may have
put it on at home privately, to get used to it, the day must at last
come when he has to walk forth into the streets, and in the eyes of
those who have known him ever since he was a boy, or even a baby,
changed from a man like themselves to an important and rather dreadful
guardian of the peace. If he is a simple fellow, the great day may
leave him very much as he was; but if he is at all given to conceit, it
may make him worse.

Now it happened that this Tuesday on which the Slowcoaches were on
their way from Stratford to Evesham was the very day on which Benjamin
Roper was beginning his duties as a member of the Warwickshire
constabulary. His beat in the morning lay between Bidford and Salford
Priors, and he was standing beside the road, on the top of the little
hill called Marriage Hill--just before you cross the River Arrow and
come to Salford Priors station--at the very moment that Moses, after
painfully dragging the Slowcoach up the same eminence, had reached the
summit.

At the door of the caravan were to be seen Mary, Hester, and Gregory,
whose turn it was to ride; and P.C. Roper stared in astonishment at
faces so unlike the swarthy, tanned children he was expecting.

He stared so long indeed--everything being a little strange to him that
day--that Jack, who, with Horace, was walking just behind, politely but
with every intention of being severe, inquired: "Do you think you'll
know us next time?"

P.C. Roper said nothing, but frowned at Jack with an expression so full
of dignity, reprimand, and suspicion that Jack could not help laughing.

"Oh, I say," he said, "don't be cross. Mayn't we go about in a caravan
if we want to? No one else has objected."

"No," Horace added, "the King said nothing as we came through London,
and the Mayor of Stratford asked us to tea."

Kink laughed at this--much too loudly--and the young policeman realized
that he had been foolish. Instead, however, of laughing, too, he became
more important and angry, and suddenly he thought of a means of
retaliation.

Pulling out a notebook and pencil, he said: "I want to see your license
for this caravan." He said this not because he really wanted to see it,
but because it suggested itself as a good demand and one which would
make the children realize that he was a man of authority not to be
trifled with. But when he saw the blank which fell on their faces, and
e