“Woa!” cried Duke. “This pulling is harder than pulling proofs, Renny. Let’s stop by the bank and rest a bit.”
We ran the boat’s nose aground, fastened her painter to a stump and settled down for a talk.
“Enjoying yourself, Dolly?” asked Duke, mopping his forehead.
“Yes, of course—thanks to Mr. Trender.”
“This is a fine variety on our walks, isn’t it?”
“Oh, they’re jolly enough when you’re in a good temper.”
“Am I not always?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes you say things I don’t understand.”
“See there, Renny,” cried Duke. “If I express myself badly she calls me cross.”
“It isn’t that,” said the girl. “I know I’m ignorant and you’re clever, but you seem to read me and then say things out of yourself that have nothing to do with me—just as if I was a book and you a—what do they call it?—cricket or something.”