“Oh, Dean,” cried Mark, at last, “how I do hate this place! Just as if it wasn’t miserable and disappointing enough before! If that poor fellow were not so bad I feel as if I should like to kick him for coming and telling us about how ill he had been. Just as if it was our fault! It is enough to make one turn ill oneself. Here, let’s go in out of this broiling heat or you will be going and catching sunstroke just out of spite.”
“Likely!” said Dean bitterly.
“Now, don’t you turn disagreeable. I know what you are thinking.”
“What?” cried Dean, in surprise.
“You are thinking that I might ask father to go to the expense of taking that poor fellow up the country. Why, he’d think I was mad.”
“I’d take him if I had got the money,” said Dean.
“So would I if I had got the money,” retorted Mark, “but I haven’t. Oh, there are our two chaps again,” cried the boy eagerly, as if glad to get away from the unpleasant subject. “They can see us, and are coming.”
The two gamekeepers came strolling up, and Dance saluted them with, “Nice day, gentlemen! Pity we arn’t got some of it at home. Shouldn’t want no coke for the old vinery.”
“No,” said Mark shortly. “Well, what do you think of an African port?”
“Don’t think nothing on it, sir. Do you, mate?”