“Why, Barney,” he said, “it’s night still. What do yer want to go on fur? The old gentleman ull want to see us afore we start; we mustn’t go yet.”
Barney frowned darkly.
“I niver want to see that old cove, niver no more,” he said; and this was truer than Frank thought. “I calls it a mean act to make a poor chap work for a bit o’ supper. He’s no jintleman, he isn’t.”
“Well,” said Frank, “I should like to a said ‘Thank yer;’ it seems ongrateful.”
“Then you’d better stop and do it,” said Barney impatiently. “I’m off. I’m not goin’ to stay an work in that blessed old garding any more. You can come arter me.”
He was already half-way down the loft steps as he spoke, with his mice’s cage under his arm, when he looked back over his shoulder at his partner’s slight figure standing at the top in the dim light watching him. Turning suddenly, he was by Frank’s side again in two long-legged strides.
“Good-bye, Nipper,” he whispered, “good-bye, old pal!”
He patted the boy on the shoulder gently, and soon with stealthy swiftness passed from sight, and seemed to vanish in the grey morning mist.
Then Frank, wondering a little, but more sleepy than curious, crept back to his still warm nest in the hay, and fell asleep again without loss of time.
He dreamt that Barney had come back to fetch him, and opened his eyes some hours later expecting to see him; but he was not there. Instead of him there was Andrew the gardener just coming up the steps in a great hurry.