“TO-MORROW, Bertie, to-morrow!” whispered Phil, in a sort of ecstatic excitement. “Keep it dark; and be ready at nine sharp. Do you think you could get David to come too without the Squire’s knowing it?”
“No; but if I ask him to let him come with me, I know he will say yes. Of course I shall tell him where I am going,—I always do.”
Phil whistled a little.
“Do you though? I hadn’t bargained for that; but you won’t say anything about the young gulls.”
“No, that isn’t my secret; I promised not to tell; but I shall have to ask leave to go to the Rocky Bay to-morrow. I know he’ll let me, and he’ll let David come too if I ask, and then I can drive in my little cart and bring something to eat, and you can go in the boat or on your ponies, as you like best.”
“Oh, we shall ride,” answered Phil. “The other fellows would guess there was something up if we wanted the boat out; and, besides, we could not pull it all that way alone. If you have your cart it will be jolly. We can take everything back in it, young birds and all. Oh, yes; we’ll have a rare good day! You’re sure the Squire will let you go?”
“Oh, yes; he is very kind. He always likes me to ask him for things.”
So Bertie made his proposition very boldly that night, and received a ready assent.
Mrs. Pritchard was pleased to supply the party with lunch, and, as David was going, she felt no anxiety as to the safety of her pet. David was a good, steady lad, and could be trusted to look after Master Bertie as carefully as his own mother.
The Squire came out to see the boy drive away. He lifted him into the varnished cart, and as he gave him the reins he said,—