"Jump when you're clear!" called Martin. But back it came.
"Why didn't the young Squire in the story—"
"Jump this time!" And back it came.
"—come to fetch her himself, Martin?"
"Jump!" shouted Martin; and shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears. But it was no use; again and again he felt the rush of air, and questions falling through it like shooting-stars about his head.
"Martin! what was the name on the eighth floret of grass?"
"Martin! what was the letter you threw with the Lady-peel?"
"Martin! why is my silver ring all chased with little apples?"
"Martin! do you—do you—do you—?"
"Shall I never be rid of this swing?" cried Martin. "Jump, you nuisance, jump when I tell you!"