“Now, just hark at him!” cried Dick to his wife.
“Please, master, I’m very—”
“Ah!” shouted Dick.
“All right, master,” said the boy; and he bent to his work.
“I say, mother;” said Dick, “Max is a bit put out with us.”
“So it seems,” said Mrs Shingle, biting her silk and stitching away. “I think he’d be glad if we starved to death.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, my girl, because it wouldn’t be nice to look at, and he never liked unpleasant things; but he’s a bit put out about our Jess.”
“What?” said Mrs Shingle, turning very red.
“About our Jess,” said Dick, hammering away very viciously at an inoffensive-looking bit of leather. “He’s got to know about those boys being so fond of coming here.”
“Our Jessie’s as good as his boys,” said Mrs Shingle sharply, and ready to stand her ground, now that the truth was out.