“Oh, they won’t be!” cried Dick. “When will you go?”
“When the watter’s down, my lad.”
“It’s low enough now. There are plenty of places where you can spread your nets.”
“Ay, but plenty of places don’t suit me, my lad. You wait a bit and we’ll see. Get John Warren to tek you ferreting.”
“Yes, that will do,” cried Tom. “When are you going, John?”
The man addressed shook his head.
“Rabbuds don’t want no killing off. Plenty on ’em drownded.”
“Why,” cried Dick, “it was only the other day you said that none were hurt by the flood.”
“Did I, Mester Dick? Ah, yow mustn’t tek no notice o’ what I say.”
“But we shall take notice of what you say,” cried Tom. “I don’t believe he has any ferrets left.”