“I think not,” said the carrier. “Try again.”
“Something for our governor, eh?” asked Caleb after thinking a little while. “To be sure. That’s what I came for; but my head’s so full of them Noah’s Arks and things! He hasn’t been here, has he?”
“Not he,” returned the carrier. “He’s too busy, courting.”
“He’s coming, though,” said Caleb; “for he told me to keep on the near side of the road going home, and it was ten to one he’d take me up. I’d better go, by-the-way.”
He turned to Dot. “You couldn’t have the goodness to let me pinch Boxer’s tail, mum, for half a moment, could you?”
“Why, Caleb! What a question!”
“Oh, never mind, mum,” said the little man. “He mightn’t like it, perhaps. There’s a small order come in for toys—dogs that will bark; and I wish to go as close to nature as possible for a sixpence. That’s all. Never mind, mum.”
It happened that Boxer just at that moment began to bark with zeal. But, as this bark meant the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his study of dogs’ barks, shouldered the big round box of wedding cake and said good-by. He might have spared himself the trouble, however, for he met his employer upon the threshold.
Tackleton
“Oh! You are here, are you? Wait a bit. I’ll take you home!”