“It’s holiday to-day, and I want to show this chap, our new boy, round.”
“What! to teach him mischief like you know?”
“Get out. I don’t do any mischief. You might let us go.”
“Not my wood, it’s master’s.”
“Well, he wouldn’t mind.”
“And I’ve got young fezzans in coops all about the place.”
“Well, we don’t want the pheasants.”
“I should think not, indeed; and just you look here: I see you’ve got that chap Magglin up at work in your garden again; you just tell him from me that if ever I see him in our woods, I’ll give him a peppering with small shot.”
“You carry your impudent messages yourself, or tell the Doctor,” said Mercer sharply.
“What?” cried the keeper, scowling at us.