“How about your cottage, Dave?” said the squire, shading his eyes as he looked across the flooded fen.
“Wet,” said Dave laconically.
“Yes, there are four feet of water yonder, I should say. You will have to stop at the Toft for the present.”
“Not I, mester,” said the rough fellow. “I don’t mind a drop o’ watter.”
“Not to wade through, perhaps, my man; but you can’t sleep there.”
“Sleep in my boat,” said Dave laconically. “Won’t be the first time.”
“Do as you please,” said the squire quietly; and he turned to talk to Farmer Tallington.
“I say, Dave,” whispered Dick, “you’re just like an old goose.”
“Eh?” said the man with his eyes flashing.
“I mean being able to sleep on the water floating,” said Dick, laughing, and the angry look died out.