“Pull away! That’s right! Glad to see you!” exclaimed Roger. “Halloo, Spy! Down, sir! Pleased to see you, Oliver.”
Oliver was glad to hear these words. He did not know but that he might have been met by abuse and violence, for having carried home the basket.
“Would you like some milk?” asked Oliver, as he came near.
“Ay, that I should,” replied Roger.
“Leave yonder water to your dog, then, and drink this,” said Oliver, handing down a small tin can. “You must let me have the can, though. Almost all our kitchen things floated out through the wall, at that breach that you see, during the night. You must give me the can again, if you would like that I should bring you some more milk this afternoon. The poor cow is doing but badly, and we cannot feed her as we should like: but she has given milk enough for George this morning, with a little to spare for us and you. You seem to like it,” he added, laughing to see how Roger smacked his lips over the draught.
“That I do. It is good stuff, I know,” said Roger, as he drained the last drop.
“Then I will bring you some more in the afternoon, if there is any to spare from poor George’s supper.”
“That’s a pity. You’ve enough to do, I think. Suppose I come over. Eh?”
“There is something to be said about that,” replied Oliver, gravely. “We do not want to keep what we have to ourselves. We have got a chest of meal, this morning.”
“A chest of meal!”