“But you might have spoken up and said it was yours,” said Dick.
“I daresay I should,” said Arthur, loftily, “if you had behaved fairly; but now—”
“I say, boys,” cried Mr Temple, “I shall not wait.”
“Here, you go and slip on my flannels,” said Dick. “I’ll go and buy you a hat. If it fits me it will fit you.”
“Get a black-and-white straw,” said Arthur. “I won’t wear a white. Such absurd nonsense of papa!”
“Not to let you go boating in a chimney-pot!” said Dick, half to himself, as he hurried off. “What a rum fellow Taff is!”
Unfortunately for the particular young gentleman there were no black-and-white hats, so Dick bought a coarse white straw with black ribbon round it, and then seized the opportunity—as they sold everything at the little shop, from treacle to thread, and from bacon and big boots to hardware and hats—to buy some fishing-hooks and string, finding fault with the hooks as being soft and coarse, but the man assured him that they were the very best for the sea, so he was content.
“See what a disgusting fit these things are!” cried Arthur, as his brother entered.
“Yes; you do look an old guy, Taff,” cried Dick maliciously. “Ha! ha! ha! why, they’ve shrunk with being dried. Here, let’s pull the legs down. You’ve put your legs through too far.”
“There! Now what did I tell you?” cried Arthur, angrily. “Look at that now. I distinctly told you to bring a black-and-white straw; I can’t wear a thing like that.”