“No, he isn’t going to, because I shan’t come back.”
“But you are back.”
“Oh no, I arn’t, Master Syd. I’m not going to be knocked about with rake-handles, and then sent off to sea. How would you like it?”
“I’m not knocked about, Pan; but I’m going to be sent off to sea.”
“Then don’t go, Master Syd.”
There was no answer for the moment; then the latter looked up in among the dark branches, where the dying leaves still clung.
“You said you had come back to see me, Pan.”
“Yes, Master Syd.”
“What for? Because you repented?”
“No; it was to ask you—”