“They aren’t ripe yet,” he said with an unpleasant leer; “and you’d best let them alone.”
Dexter walked quickly away, with his face scarlet, and a bitter feeling of annoyance which he could not master.
For the next quarter of an hour he was continually changing his position in the garden, but always to wake up to the fact that the old gardener was carrying out a purpose which he had confided to Peter.
This the boy soon learned, for after a time he suddenly encountered the groom, still busy with the broom.
“Why, hullo, youngster!” he said; “what’s the matter!”
“Nothing,” said Dexter, with his face growing a deeper scarlet.
“Oh yes, there is; I can see,” cried Peter.
“Well, he’s always watching me, and pretending that I’m getting into mischief, or trying to pick the fruit.”
“Hah!” said Peter, with a laugh; “he told me he meant to keep his eye on you.”
Just then there was a call for Dan’l from the direction of the house, and Mrs Millett was seen beyond a laurel hedge.