"Of course not," said Jack, a little shortly, still smarting with the pain of refusal. "I'm big enough to take care of a girl half your age."
Mrs. Treherne and various other matrons drew out their work and their books and settled themselves on a green oasis not far from the river, where they could catch a glimpse of it as it rushed in headlong impetuosity towards the valleys below, and the children slipped away through the trees towards the bridge which they must recross on their way to the bush track which Jack had traversed with Tom only a few days ago.
"But how lovely this is!" said Eva, peering into the recesses of the bush on either side. "We can pretend that all sorts of things are happening; that we've lost our way, you and I, and—and—the best of pretending things is that you've all the fun of things happening and never get frightened. We might pretend that it was night, and that we'd had nothing to eat all day."
But Jack, a matter-of-fact schoolboy, whose days of pretending were over, had little patience with all these fancies.
"But where's the good of pretending when we aren't lost, and when we've had tons to eat? I'll tell you what isn't pretence. If you went on along this track through a big clearing which we shall come to presently, you would reach Woodlands, Jessie's home."
"Could we get there?" said Eva excitedly. "I'd rather see Jessie than gather cartloads of blackberries."
"That's the worst of girls," retorted Jack. "You never know what they want! Which would you really rather do—get blackberries or go to Jessie, for it's flat we can't do both?"
Eva hesitated, moving restlessly from one foot to the other.
"Well, speak up! blackberries or Jessie? for, if you choose Jessie, we've no time to lose. It's a goodish distance."
"Could I walk it?"