He was clumsy, and unaccustomed to the task, but driven by Bob’s bullying tones, and helped by the fact that the little crustaceans were pretty plentiful, he managed to get a dozen and a half in about an hour.
“There, come out, and dress now,” said Bob ill-humouredly. “It’s more trouble to tell you than to have got ’em myself. I’d ha’ found twice as many in the time.”
Dexter shivered, and then began to enjoy the warmth of his garments after as good a wipe as he could manage with a pocket-handkerchief. But it was the row afterwards that gave the required warmth—a row which was continued till another farm-house was seen beside a great cider orchard.
Here Dexter had to land with sixpence and the empty bottle.
“I promised to take that there bottle back,” said Bob, with a grin, “but I shan’t now. Lookye here. You make ’em give you a good lot of bread and butter for the sixpence, and if they asks you any questions, you say we’re two gentlemen out for a holiday.”
Dexter landed, and went up to the farm-house, through whose open door he could see a warm fire, and inhale a most appetising odour of cooking bacon and hot coffee.
A pleasant-faced woman came to the door, and her ways and looks were the first cheery incidents of Dexter’s trip.
“Sixpennyworth of bread and butter, and some milk?” she said. “Yes, of course.”
She prepared a liberal exchange for Dexter’s coin, and then after filling the bottle put the boy’s chivalry to the test.
“Why, you look as if you wanted your breakfast,” she said. “Have a cup of warm coffee?”