I was nobody in the household—never turning upon them. She’d have gone on at me for an hour, and probably walked off with the beer. Tod was altogether different. He held his own authority, even with Molly. She went up the cellar-stairs, grumbling to herself.
“I want a cork for this bottle,” said bold Tod, following her. And Molly, opening some receptacle of hers with a jerk, perforce found him one.
“Oh, and I shall want some meat pasties made to-day, for I think of going fishing,” went on Tod. “Let them be ready by lunch-time. I have cut myself some slices of meat to go on with—if you chance to miss any mutton.”
Molly, never answering, left her kitchen-grate, where she was beginning to crack up the huge flat piece of coal that the fire had been raked with the previous night, and stalked into the larder to see what depredations had been done. We tied up the bottle in paper on the parlour-table, and then wrapped it in a sheet of loose music. It looked a pretty thick roll; but nobody would be likely to remark that.
“I have a great mind to go with you and see him, Johnny,” said Tod, as we went together down the garden-path.
“Oh, don’t, Tod!” I cried. “For goodness’ sake, don’t. You know you never do go in with me, and it might cause old Bumford to wonder.”
“Then, I’ll leave it till after dark to-night, Johnny. Go in then, I shall.”
Bumford was astir, but not down yet. I heard him coughing, through his open casement; for I went with a purpose round the path by his house, and called out to him. He looked out in his shirt-sleeves and a cotton night-cap.
“You see how early I am this morning. I’ll bring you the key when I leave.”
“Eugh!” growled Bumford. “No rights to ha’ took it.”