Mr. Keane does just as he promised, walking a little ways ahead while John and Martin follow along after him. John hustles along as quickly as his oversized clothes allow, frowning at the looks some passers-by are giving them. Now that the initial terror has worn off, he's beginning to just feel stupid, which is almost worse — like people might think he's dressed himself this way on purpose.
But there's nothing to be done about it. At least it's a short walk to the Children's Home. For all his earlier suspicion, John doesn't waste much time looking the place over once they arrive. It's not as if Mr. Keane could have faked a whole building, and it's plain enough that the other people inside know him. Seems he was telling the truth.
Does that mean he was telling the truth about the police, too?
John grits his teeth and picks his way up the steps, trying not to trip over the hem of the stupid pants. "Thank you," he says again as he passes Mr. Keane. Then he steps inside, hovering uncertainly a little ways from the reception desk.
no subject
But there's nothing to be done about it. At least it's a short walk to the Children's Home. For all his earlier suspicion, John doesn't waste much time looking the place over once they arrive. It's not as if Mr. Keane could have faked a whole building, and it's plain enough that the other people inside know him. Seems he was telling the truth.
Does that mean he was telling the truth about the police, too?
John grits his teeth and picks his way up the steps, trying not to trip over the hem of the stupid pants. "Thank you," he says again as he passes Mr. Keane. Then he steps inside, hovering uncertainly a little ways from the reception desk.