“I d’know. Thought you might want to part with her,” said the man. “I wouldn’t mind giving fifteen shillings for a boat like that.”
“Yah!” cried Bob mockingly. “Why, she’s worth thirty at least.”
“Bob!” whispered Dexter excitedly. “You mustn’t sell her.”
“You hold your tongue.”
“I wouldn’t give thirty shillings for her,” said the man, coming close now and mooring his own crazy craft by holding on to the gunwale of the gig. “She’s too old.”
“That she ain’t,” cried Bob. “Why, she’s nearly new.”
“Not she. Only been varnished up, that’s all. I’ll give you a pound for her.”
“No,” said Bob, to Dexter’s great relief.
“I’ll give you a pound for her, and my old ’un chucked in,” said the man. “It’s more than she’s worth, but I know a man who wants such a boat as that.”
“You mustn’t sell her, Bob,” whispered Dexter, who was now in agony.