“Will you dig a few worms for me, please?” shouted Dexter in the old man’s ear.
“Dig wums? What for? Oh, I see, thou’rt going fishing. No; I can’t stop.”
“May I dig some!” cried Dexter; but Dan’l affected not to hear him, and went hurriedly away.
“He knew what I wanted all the time,” said the boy to himself. “He don’t like me no more than Maria does.”
Just then he caught sight of Peter Cribb, who, whenever he was not busy in the stable, seemed to be chained to a birch broom.
“Will you dig a few worms for me, please?” said Dexter; “red ones.”
“No; I’m sweeping,” said the groom gruffly; and then, in the most inconsistent way, he changed his tone, for he had a weakness for the rod and line himself. “Going fishing!”
“Yes, if I can get some worms.”
“Where’s old Copestake!”
“Gone into the yard over there,” said Dexter.