Scarlett was silent for a minute.
“I should have told you afterwards,” he said. “Here, let me have a turn now.”
“No; I shall finish,” replied Fred, wielding the old pot with increased energy, “just to show you how forgiving I am.”
“Ah! but you’re found out too,” cried Scarlett.
“Well, I didn’t mean any harm,” cried Fred, with a droll look, “and should have told you afterwards.”
“Yes; but—”
“Look here,” cried Fred, “you say another word about it, and I’ll throw all the water over you.”
“Let’s make haste, then, and go and find the way in before breakfast.”
For answer Fred scooped away at such a rate that he had soon cleared the boat down to the little well-like hollow arranged to catch the drainings.
“Now then,” he cried, “I’m tired. You row.”