“The fox said the grapes were sour when he could not get at them, Jem.”
“That’s true, Mas’ Don. Well, how are we to get up?”
They looked round the loft, but, with the exception of the old sacking lying at one end, the place was bare.
“Here, come to the end, Jem, and let me have another try,” said Don.
“Right, sir; come on,” cried Jem; and going right to the end of the loft, he bent his body a little and leaned his hands against the wall.
This simplified matters.
“Stand fast, Jem,” cried Don, and taking a spring, he landed upon his companion’s broad back, leap-frog fashion, but only to jump off again.
“What’s the matter, Mas’ Don?”
“Only going to take off my shoes.”
“Ah, ’twill be better. I didn’t grumble before, but you did hurt, sir.”