“He couldn’t tell me nothing I dunno. I’ve got the ager.”
“Well, aren’t you going to ask us in?”
“Nay, lad. What do you want?”
“That basket,” said Dick briskly. “Here, how is Dave?”
“Badly! Got the ager!”
“But is he no better?”
“Don’t I tell you he’s got the ager!” growled the man; and without more ado he took the basket from the extended hand, opened the lid, and turned it upside down, so that its contents rolled upon the sand, and displayed the kind-heartedness of Mrs Winthorpe.
Dick glanced at Marston and laughed.
“Theer’s your basket,” growled John Warren. “Want any rabbuds?”
“No; they’re out of season, John!” cried Dick. “You don’t want us here, then?”