Daily Mirror, July 16, 1938, page 2.
Albert, Aged Ten, Has a Day Out
From Our Own Correspondent
Maidstone, Friday
Into the bar at the Victoria Hotel here tonight strode Albert Clare, aged ten, armed with a popgun, and six toy pistols stuck in his belt, and carrying an attache case.
Walking boldly up to Colonel F.H. Peter, the manager, he demanded: "Are little boys like me allowed in here?" Told they were not, he sat on the floor, explained, "I have missed my bus anyway," and pulled out a gold-plated hunter watch.
Opening his attache case, he produced a banjo, which he started to strum, a dozen bananas, and lots of toys. He also had a ten shilling note, two half-crowns and a shilling. "I've been saving up for them for years," he said.
He told Colonel Peter that he came from the Caldecott Home in Mote Park - a mile and a half away - and the matron was called to fetch him. "He was a bad boy to-day, so I put him to bed," she said. "At tea-time the little rascal had gone."