“But Mr Uggleston isn’t at home.”
“No, that he isn’t,” said Bigley, who had just caught sight of the lugger. “That is tiresome.”
“But they haven’t taken the boat,” cried Bob, “so it don’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” said Bigley gravely, “because I shouldn’t like to take the boat without leave.”
“Why, of course you wouldn’t if your father was at home,” said Bob quickly; “but I’m quite sure Mr Uggleston wouldn’t like us two to be disappointed when we’d come on purpose to go.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’d mind,” said Bigley.
“But I know he would,” cried Bob, who spoke in the most consequential manner. “Your father is rough, but he is very good at bottom.”
“Why, of course he is,” cried Bigley.
“Then he wouldn’t like us to be cheated out of our treat, so you get the mussels for the bait, and some worms, and let’s go.”
Bigley hesitated. He wanted to go, for the sea was as smooth as a mill-pond—a rare thing in winter; and perhaps we should have to wait for some time before another such day arrived.