“Then he has run away with it, David.”
“Ay, and he’ll go and sell it; you see if he don’t. Nice nooish bit o’ soft rope as it were too.”
“Never mind the rope, David,” said Tom, jumping down, after listening intently for a few minutes.
“Ah, that’s werry well for you, sir; but what am I to say when master arkses me what’s become on it?”
“I’ll tell him, David. There, it’s nearly ten again. I say, you didn’t go to sleep to-night.”
“No, nor you nayther, sir,” said David, with a chuckle. “I’m sorry ’bout that rope, but my word, you did let him have it, sir. Can’t be much dust left in his jacket.”
David burst into a hoarse fit of laughter, and Tom joined in, laughing till the tears ran down his cheeks.
“Say, Master Tom,” cried David. “Pippins!”
There was another burst of laughter, and then David suggested Wellingtons, and followed up with Winter Greenings, each time roaring with laughter.
“He’s got apples this time, and no mistake, sir,” he said.