Stopping at last before the only object which
seemed unchanged, he said:
"Can you tell me where the Ministry is?"
The officer looked down at him.
"What for?"
"For speaking about the country."
"Ministry of Propagation? First on the right, second door on the left."
"Thank you. The Police are wonderful."
"None of that," said the officer coldly.
"I only said you were wonderful."
"I 'eard you."
"But you are. I don't know what the country would do without you.
Your solid qualities, your imperturbable bonhomie, your truly British
tenderness towards----"
"Pass away!" said the officer.
"I am only repeating what we all say of you," rejoined Mr. Lavender
reproachfully.
"Did you 'ear me say 'Move on,'" said the officer; "or must I make you
an example?"
"YOU are the example," said Mr. Lavender warmly.
"Any more names," returned the officer, "and I take you to the station."
And he moved out into the traffic. Puzzled by his unfriendliness Mr.
Lavender resumed his search, and, arriving at the door indicated, went
in. A dark, dusty, deserted corridor led him nowhere, till he came on a
little girl in a brown frock, with her hair down her back.
"Can you tell me, little one----" he said, laying his hand on her head.
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