“About getting me down to Lymington, and on board a fishing-boat.”
“And so I will.”
“Thank you. Then we will start to-night.”
“That we won’t!” cried Waller. “Stuff! Nonsense! I hear from our gardener that there are soldiers going about from place to place in the forest, and as likely as not we should run right up against them, for they would be sure to be keeping watch at night. You wait a bit, and as soon as I think it’s safe, and we have made all our plans, we will go. But don’t you be in such a hurry. You are company for me, and I am sure my father wouldn’t mind your staying on a while to get strong. I want to hear that the soldiers are gone, and then you will be like a visitor, and we will have a good time of it in the woods, fishing, and collecting, and one thing and another.”
“No,” said the lad sadly; “England is no place for me. I must get back to France.”
“You wait till you get better,” said Waller, “and you will talk differently.”
“Oh, but I am putting you in such a false position. Your servants will be finding out that you have got me hidden here.”
“They’d better!” cried Waller hotly. “What business is it of theirs? I am only answerable to my father.”
“And what will he say to you when he knows what you have done?”
“What will he say?” cried Waller enthusiastically. “He’ll say—he’ll say—I don’t know what,” and the boy stopped short.