“Yes. Come round and open the door.”
“What’ll yer give me?”
“Anything I can,” cried Archy eagerly.
“Well, you give me that little sword o’ your’n.”
“No; I can’t part with that.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed the boy jeeringly.
“But I’ll—yes, I’ll give you a guinea, if you will let me out.”
“Guinea?” said the boy. “Think I’d do it for a guinea?”
“Well, then, two. Be quick, there’s a good fellow. I want to get away at once.”
“Not you,” said the boy jeeringly. “It would be a pity. I say, do you know what you look like?”