I saw Mercer turn scarlet.
“Did you ever take it to pieces, and stuff it again, Senna?” and there was another roar of laughter.
“He did, I know, and that’s why it won’t go.”
“Come along,” whispered Mercer to me, for, now that the watch had disappeared in its owner’s pocket, the attraction which had held my companion there seemed to have gone, and we began to walk away.
“There they go,” cried Burr major; “pair of ’em. Burr junior’s getting on nicely with his stuffing. I say, young un, how many doses of physic has he made you take?”
“Come away,” whispered Mercer; “let’s go back to the gardens. If I stop here, I shall fly out at him, and get knocked about again.”
“Ah! Oh! Go home!” was shouted, Burr major starting the cry, and his followers taking it up in chorus till we had passed through the gate, when Mercer clenched his fists, and gave both feet a stamp.
“And him to have a watch like that!” he cried; “and I’ve longed for one ever since I was ten. Oh, I do hate that chap! Shouldn’t you have liked to hit him?”
“No,” I said. “I felt all the time as if I should have liked to kick him.”
“Oh, I felt that too. But, I say, shouldn’t you like a watch the same as his?”