“Let’s be hermits.”
“There’s always only one hermit.”
“Well, you live that side,” (pointing across), “and I’ll live this.”
“Hermits eat pulse and drink water.”
“What’s pulse?”
“I suppose it’s barley water.”
“Horrid.”
“Awful.”
“You say what we shall be then.”
“Pan, you old donk,” said Bevis, rolling Pan over with his foot. Lazy Pan lay on his back, and let Bevis bend his ribs with his foot.