“Don’t bother.”
“But we must go, Ladle.”
“Well, I know that; but I haven’t got the money, and it’s so far to fetch it, and I ache all over, and I don’t want to see old Joe to-day, and—”
“There, you’re shirking the job,” interrupted Vince.
“No, I’m not, for I want to get it over.”
“Then don’t stop smelling the stuff; hold your nose, tip it up, and you shall have a bit of sugar to eat after it if you’re a good boy.”
“Oh, Cinder, how I should like to punch your head!”
“No, you wouldn’t. Come on and take your physic.”
“I won’t till I like. So there.”
“‘Cowardy, cowardy, custard, Ate his father’s mustard,’” said Vince. “I say, I don’t see that there was anything cowardly in eating his father’s mustard. It was plucky. See how hot it must have been; but I suppose he had plenty of beef and vegetables with it. He must have had, because, if he hadn’t, it would have made him sick.”