“That’s Rob’s doing,” said Allen. “I couldn’t look after him while I was gilding the apple or I would have stopped him. He half blacked the little boy on the swan too—”
“And broke the swan’s bill off, worse luck,” added Johnny.
“Yes,” said Allen, “that was altogether low and unlucky! I meant the old fellow simply to have thought that his statue had grown a pair of ears in the night.”
“And what would have been the use of that?” said Robin.
“What was the use of all your scrawling,” said Allen, “except just to show it was not the natural development of statues.”
“Yes,” added Bobus, “it all came of you that poor Dickey Bird is suspected and it is all blown up.”
“As if he would have thought it was done by nobody,” said Rob.
“Why not?” said Jock. “I’m sure I’d never wonder to see ass’s ears growing on you. I think they are coming.”
There was a shout of laughter as Rob hastily put up his hands to feel for them, adding in his slow, gruff voice—“A statue ain’t alive.”
“It made a fool of the whole matter,” proceeded Bobus. “I wish we’d kept a lout like you out of it.”