“Oh, don’t I! Hark at him!” cried the man, laughing, and addressing the robin.
“Why, what good would it be to you?”
“What good, lad? Why, I’d have a noo thick weskit, a plush un, before the winter come—a red un like his’n,” and he nodded towards the robin.
“Bah! Nonsense!”
“Nay, it ar’n’t, lad. Them red uns are strange and warm, and lies down like feathers. Then there’s boots. I’d like a pair of the stoutest and thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get—not a pair of old Fatty’s cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton’s town.”
“Yes!” panted Waller, “And what else would you do with the money?”
“Waal, I don’t know about what else,” said the man thoughtfully. “That there weskit and them boots would about do for the present.”
“That wouldn’t cost two pounds,” cried Waller; “and what would you do with the other?”
“Bury it in an old pot,” said the man, with a grin. “I know a hole as would take that.”
“Oh, Bunny!” cried the boy passionately, “I thought better of you! I did think you were a man!”