“So they will.”
“We can’t do it. You must take them home to Frances, and make her stitch them; roll them up and go directly.”
“I don’t want to go home,” said Mark. “And perhaps she won’t stitch them.”
“I’m sure she will; she will do anything for me.”
“So she will,” said Mark rather sullenly. “Everybody does everything for you.”
Bevis had rolled up the sails, quite indifferent as to what people did for him, and put them into Mark’s unwilling hands.
“Now you can have the donkey, and mind and come back before breakfast.”
“I can’t catch him,” said Mark.
“No; no more can I—stop. John Young’s sure to be in the stable, he can.”
“Ah,” said Mark, brightening up a little, “that moke is a beast.”