“What do you mean?” said Bigley and I in a breath.
“Oh, wasn’t I always getting in rows, because you two fellows took me out and got me in trouble. I haven’t forgotten about that old suit of clothes.”
“But I say, Bob,” I cried, “didn’t you do your part of getting into trouble?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t bother, I’m sick of it. I’m tired of being a boy. I wish I was a man.”
“Nay, don’t wish that,” cried the old carrier, who had been hearing everything, though he had not spoken before. “Man, indeed! Why, aren’t you all boys with everything you can wish for? How would you like to be a man and have to do nothing else every day but sit in this here cart, and go to and fro, to and fro, from year’s end to year’s end, and never no change?”
As we drew near the Bay Bob Chowne grew more fidgety and despondent, but we tried to cheer him up by making appointments to go fishing and exploring the shore; but my first intent was to run over to the Gap, and see what was going on there.
As the carrier’s cart descended the hill and we came in sight of the cottage, I saw some one at the gate, and leaning out on one side I saw that it was my father and the doctor, but before I could say so there was a jerk which nearly threw me off, and I heard a familiar voice cry:
“There you are, then. Out with your box, lad. Here’s Binnacle Bill come to carry it. How do, young gentlemen! Well, young doctor, I’ve got that rope’s-ending saved up for you whenever you like to come.”
Old Jonas did not offer to shake hands with either of us, but Bigley did after handing out his box.
“You’ll come on to-morrow,” he said quickly.