“How did I know you were there, indeed!” growled Samson, with aggravating repetition of the other’s words. “Why, I knowed you’d be in some mischief as soon as I saw you both go by with that rope.”
“But you didn’t see us come down here.”
“No; but I see your clothes lying aside the hole. What did you want here? Somebody’s sheep tumbled down again?”
“Hear that?” whispered Fred. “No, Samson; but don’t stand there talking. Did you bring a rope?”
“How could I bring the rope, when you’d got it?”
“Go and fetch another.”
“There isn’t one that’ll bear you. Can’t you throw up the end of that one?”
“Impossible! You must fetch another.”
“And who’s to do my gardening while I’m hunting all over Coombeland for ropes as nobody won’t lend?”
“Look here, Samson,” cried Scarlett. “Go up to the Hall, and ask Nat to lend you one of ours.”