“Here, Gussie, Gussie, Gussie. Here, boy, come back here, you black animal!” shouted Willie, excitedly, as he and Eva raced after the dog. “Here, Gussie, Gussie, lie down, you brute!”
Away went Gussie, yelping excitedly and sending the sheep helter-skelter back to where they’d been driven from.
“Let’s open this gate, Willie,” cried Eva, who was hot and flushed. “That’s what we ought to have done first, and then they’d have rushed through. Let’s open this fool of a gate, and we’ll have to round them up again.”
They tugged and tugged and shoved and sighed and grunted, but all to no purpose. The springs were broken, and refused to budge.
“Come on, shake it again,” said Eva, but all to no purpose.
“Oh, damn the gate!” cried Willie.
“Oh, Willie!”
“Yes, damn the gate, and damn the dog, and damn the dashed old paddock!”
“Oh, Willie, you’re swearing! Swearing!” cried Eva, aghast. “I never thought you’d swear. When you came up here you wouldn’t think of such a thing.”
“Well, I’ll think of it now, and I know hundreds more, too. All men swear,” answered Willie, with two red streaks in his cheeks. “All men swear, and I’m going to, too. I’m not going to be an old ninny.”