He looked at me and I wanted to go too. That was plain enough, and the chance seemed so tempting that, even if I did not openly abet Bob, I said no word to persuade Bigley not.
“You’d got all the lines and bait ready, hadn’t you?” said Bob cunningly.
“Yes, everything’s ready, and I meant to ask father as soon as I got back. Here, hi! Mother Bonnet, how long will father be?”
“Oh, all depends on the wind,” said the fresh-looking old lady coming out, smiling and smoothing her hair. “They’ve gone across to Swansea, my dear. It will be a long time ’fore they’re back.”
“There, you see, you can’t ask, and it’s no use to signal to them in the lugger, because they couldn’t understand, so you’ve got to take the boat, and we shall be back long before they are.”
“But it would be so horrible if we were to meet with any accident this time,” said Bigley. “You know how unlucky we were over the prawns. There, we’d better not go!”
“There’s a Molly for you!” cried Bob. “Just because we got in a muddle twice over in catching prawns and crabs you think we’re always going to be in a mess.”
“No, I don’t,” said Bigley; “but it would be so queer if we got into a scrape the very first time we go out.”
“Get out! Oh, I say, you do make me grin, old Big. There, go and get your lines, and a gaff, and the basket of bait. Let’s be off while the sea is so smooth.”
Bigley hesitated, and after a good deal of banter from Bob, and an appeal to me, he went off, sorry and yet pleased, to get the lines and bait.