‘Where are you going to stay to-night?’ asked Master Richard. The question sounded practical, but at bottom it was nothing of the sort. It was part of the romance of the thing, and yet it threw cold water on Joe’s newly-lighted courage, and put it out again.
‘I don’t know,’ said Joe, somewhat forlornly.
‘I say,’ interjected Ichabod, ‘is that young Mountain, Master Richard?’
‘Yes,’ said Master Richard.
‘Thee know’st thy feyther is again thy speakin’ to him, and his feyther is again his speakin’ to thee.’
‘You mind your own business, Ichabod,’ said the young autocrat, who was a little spoiled perhaps, and had been accustomed to have his own way in quite a princely fashion.
‘I’m mindin’ it,’ returned Ichabod. ‘It’s a part o’ my business to keep thee out o’ mischief.’
‘Ah!’ piped Master Richard, ‘you needn’t mind that part of your business to-night.’
‘All right,’ said Ichabod, reshouldering the sack he had meanwhile balanced on the coping of the bridge. ‘See as thee beesn’t late for tay-time.’
With that, having discharged his conscience, he went on again, and the two boys stayed behind.