“And, of course, we don’t know which tree to cut.”
“And if we did, my father would not have a tree touched on any account. Remember how angry he was with the wind?”
“What, when it blew down the big elm?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“I say,” said Fred, yawning, “let’s give it up. What do we care about where the passage comes out! We know where it goes in.”
“Foxes always have two holes,” said Scarlett, dreamily.
“So do rabbits. Lots of holes sometimes. But we’re not foxes, and we’re not rabbits.”
“No; but you’ll be like a water-rat directly, if you sit on that moss. It’s as slippery as can be close to the edge. Come and get some nuts.”
“Not ripe enough,” said Fred, idly.