“He says ours is better,” said Scarlett.
“Let him, sir; but that don’t make it better.”
“Bother the old cider! Who cares?” cried Fred. “Look here, Samson, don’t say a word to anybody about our having found that hole.”
“No, sir; not I.”
“Why did you tell him that!” said Scarlett, as they walked away.
“I don’t know,” said Fred, starting.
“Perhaps I thought we ought not to tell, in case we wanted to hide some day.”
“Hide! What from whom from!”
“I don’t know,” said Fred again, as he looked in a puzzled way at his companion; and then they parted. Fred felt that he should have liked to have told his friend why he wished the discovery to be kept a secret, but the puzzled feeling grew more intense, and when at last he dismissed it, he was obliged to own that he did not know himself any more than when he spoke.