The butcher backed out, smiling triumphantly, but only to put his head in again—
“Beg pardon, sir, only to say that if he’d asked me polite like, I’d ha’ done it directly; but he didn’t, and I’ll stand upon my medder like a man.”
“Humph!” said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; “and so you were not afraid of the bullocks, Dexter?”
“There wasn’t anything to be afraid of,” said the boy. “I’m ever so much more afraid of you.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes, when you look cross, sir, only then.”
“Well, you must not make me look cross, Dexter; and now get on with your copying. When you’ve done that you may go in the garden if you’ll keep out of mischief.”
“And when may I go fishing?”
“When you like.”
“Down the meadows!”