"Yes; under a heap of nettles, and stung my fingers horribly. Just look at the blisters."
"Don't be a baby. Go on; it's your play."
"I can't hold the bat while my hands hurt so."
"Then miss your turn.—Come along, Bertie, and have your innings; Ruth doesn't want hers."
"Yes, I do! I'm older than Bertie, so I must go in first. If you'd only wait a minute, till I can find a dock leaf."
"We can't wait. How tiresome you are! Here, Bertie, take the bat."
"It's not fair! We were to go in ages, and I'm six months older than he is."
"You can have your turn after Joyce."
"Joyce! She's only nine, and I'm eleven."
"Then miss it altogether, and don't make yourself a nuisance!—Now then, Bertie, look out for a screw."