“Yes, so it seems,” said Bob sarcastically; “a-sitting there like a gent, and letting me do everything.”
“Well, let me pull one oar.”
“No, I can do it, and you shall have some bragfuss presently. I don’t want to be took, because you’ve stole a boat.”
Dexter turned pale, and then red with indignation, but he did not say anything, only waited till his lord should feel disposed to see about getting a meal.
This happened when they were about a couple of miles lower down the stream, which steadily opened out and became more beautiful, till at last it seemed to be fully double the size it was at Coleby.
Here they came abreast of a cluster of cottages on the bank, one of which, a long whitewashed stone building, hung out a sign such as showed that it was a place for refreshment.
“There,” said Bob, “we’ll land there—I mean you shall, and go in and buy some bread and cheese.”
“Bread and cheese,” faltered Dexter. “Shan’t we get any tea or coffee, and bread and butter?”
“No! of course not. If we both get out they’ll be asking us questions about the boat.”
Bob backed the boat close to the shore, stern foremost, and then said—