“Only you didn’t wake, David,” cried Tom, interrupting him. “Why, you ought to have been up after having such a snooze last night in the garden.”
“I won’t have you say such a word, sir,” cried David angrily. “Snooze! Me snooze! Why, it was you, sir, and you’re a-shoving it on to me, and—”
David stopped short, for he could not stand the clear gaze of Tom’s laughing eyes. His face relaxed a little, and a few puckers began to appear, commencing a smile.
“Well, it warn’t for many minutes, Master Tom.”
“An hour.”
“Nay, sir, nay; not a ’our.”
“Quite, David; and I wouldn’t wake you. I say, don’t be a sham. You did oversleep yourself.”
“Well, I s’pose I did, sir, just a little.”
“And now what would you say if I told you that Pete has been and carried off all the pears?”
“What!” yelled David; and straightening himself he ran off as hard as he could to the Marie Louise pear-tree, but only to come back grinning.