He looked down and enjoyed the performance.
“Isn’t he naughty and wicked!” he said.
“Won’t he have a headache in the morning, Guvie!”
While attacking and battering the tree, Towsie Jock was silent, only the noise of the “thuds” resounded through the forest.
“If I had a big turnip now,” said the boy, “to throw down, Towsie would eat it and go away, oh! so well pleased, and not naughty at all.”
Towsie soon saw that to knock down that sturdy old beech was impossible; he commenced, therefore, with angry bellowings to root round it with his feet.
But even of this he soon tired. He stood up, red-eyed and furious-looking, and sniffed and snorted.
“May I cry ‘Towsie’ again, Guvie?”
“Oh, no, no, no.”
“He can’t climb the tree, you know. He’ll go away presently, then we can get down and run, Guvie dear.”