“Not such a good un as this, I lay. You come and see. It wouldn’t take you not two minutes, and your dog’ll watch the things.”
“No,” said Tim very quickly and decidedly, “I can’t leave the cart.”
“You don’t trust the dog much, then. You’ve bin humbuggin’ about him, I bet.”
“That I haven’t,” said Tim angrily, “I could trust him not to stir for hours.”
“I should just like to see yer,” sneered the boy—“I don’t b’lieve yer dare leave ’im a minute. Well, I wouldn’t keep a stupid cur like that!”
The taunt was more than Tim could bear. He knew that Moses would come triumphantly out of the ordeal, and besides, he would really like to go and see the clever Punch’s dog in the next street; Joshua was safe for another half-hour, and the place looked so quiet and deserted. It must be safe. He would go.
He jumped down from the cart, and spoke to Moses in a certain voice:
“Watch, Moses!” he said, pointing to the parcels.
The dog looked wistfully at his master, as though suspecting something wrong or unusual, but he did not attempt to follow him; he lay down with his nose between his paws, his short ears pricked, and his bright eyes keenly observant. Then the two boys set off running down the street together, and were soon out of his sight.