“Yes, Master George; but think of the barrow-loads there’ll be, and they’ll be worth anything for the garden nicely spread about.”
“I should like to go and see the old place,” I said, thoughtfully.
“Then ask the captain, lad. Do. He’s just over yonder talking to the colonel. Hist! Here he comes. Ask him—do.”
“Well, George,” said my father, coming up. “Ah, Morgan. Want to speak to me?”
“Well, sir, I—er—that is, I think Master George does.”
“No, father; it’s Morgan, only he’s afraid.”
“Nay, nay, not afraid, Master George. Don’t say that. On’y a bit okkard over it. But I will speak if you’re afraid to.”
“What is it?” said my father.
“Well, father, it’s this; Morgan—”
“Oh, Master George!”