"You cadged it, then?" said Dickie.
"Well," said Beale sheepishly, "what if I did?"
"You've spoiled everything," said Dickie, furious, and he flung the two newly finished boxes violently to the ground, and sat frowning with eyes downcast.
Beale, on all fours, retrieved the boxes.
"Two," he said, in awestruck tones; "there never was such a nipper!"
"It doesn't matter," said Dickie in a heartbroken voice, "you've spoiled everything, and you lie to me, too. It's all spoiled. I wish I'd never come back outer the dream, so I do."
"Now lookee here," said Beale sternly, "don't you come this over us, 'cause I won't stand it, d'y 'ear? Am I the master or is it you? D'ye think I'm going to put up with being bullied and druv by a little nipper like as I could lay out with one 'and as easy as what I could one of them pups?" He moved his foot among the soft, strong little things that were uttering baby-growls and biting at his broken boot with their little white teeth.
"Do," said Dickie bitterly, "lay me out if you want to. I don't care."
"Now, now, matey"—Beale's tone changed suddenly to affectionate remonstrance—"I was only kiddin'. Don't take it like that. You know I wouldn't 'urt a 'air of yer 'ed, so I wouldn't."
"I wanted us to live honest by our work—we was doing it. And you've lowered us to the cadgin' again. That's what I can't stick," said Dickie.