“No, sir.”
“Taught ’rithmetic. Didn’t learn his ’rithmetic then?”
“No, sir,” I replied, “Walkinghame’s.”
“Did you though? There, now, you play a walking game, and get home and count your strawberries.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“I say, what a fellow you are to but! Why, you’re like Teddy, my goat, I once had. No, no! No money. Welcome to the fruit, ditto flowers, boy. This way.”
He was leading me towards the gate now like a dog by a string, and it annoyed me that he would hold me by the end of my tie, the more so that I could see Shock with a basket turned over his head watching me from down amongst the trees.
“Come on again, my lad, often as you like. Lots growing—lots spoils.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said diffidently, “but—”
“Woa, Teddy,” he cried, laughing. “There; that’ll do. Look here, why don’t you bring her for a walk round the garden—do her good? Glad to see her any time. Here, what a fellow you are, dropping your strawberries. Let it alone, Dick. Do for Shock.”