"Why don't you say what you want?" said Nanty suddenly. "Men don't understand hints and beating about the bush. They are simple-minded creatures—some of them. Do you want your husband to fetch you some chocolate from the village?"
Dimbie looked at me inquiringly.
"I want you to go for a walk for an hour, and take father with you and show him the beauties of the spinny. And you might take a basket and get some blackberries."
Mother's startled and amazed countenance at the idea of Peter's going blackberrying made me laugh, and Dimbie's reproachful face moved me to pity.
"Well, Peter might go blackberrying alone and you to see the squirrels," I said confusedly.
And now Nanty laughed outright, and mother sat horror-stricken, gazing at Peter. But he by a merciful dispensation of Providence, was dozing which was a lucky thing for me.
Dimbie got up slowly and stretched himself.
"Come on, General Macintosh," he said resignedly, but Peter dozed on. Dimbie patted his leg, unfortunately the gouty one, and Peter started up swearing loudly.
"We've got to go for a walk," said Dimbie apologetically.
"Who's got to go for a walk?" demanded Peter fiercely.