“Yes, but when?” cried Mercer. “I want a rabbit or two to skin and stuff.”
“And you’d gie me the rabbids to eat.”
“Of course. When do you mean?”
“I thowt as to-night’d do, ’bout seven, when they’re beginning to lope about.”
“And you’d shoot some with that little gun of yours?”
“Whisht! Who’s got a gun? Nonsense!”
“Ah, we know,” cried Mercer.
“But I mean farreting.”
“Wouldn’t do,” said Mercer decisively. “Bob Hopley would be sure to come.”
“Nay, he’s going to Hastings to-day, and won’t be back till ten o’clock.”