"Where are you?" he asked, seeing nothing in the gloom.
"Never mind me; Griffin's drowning in a pond, or something."
The splashing continued.
"I'm drowning! He-elp!"
The carter stooped forward, so that the light fell on the ground. Then Ellis perceived that between the man and himself was a little pond, into which the over-anxious Griffin had managed to fall.
"There ain't no water there," said the carter. "Where are you? Come out of it. There ain't enough water to drown a cat."
Griffin, perceiving that the fact was as the carter stated, proceeded to betake himself to what was, in comparison, dry land. But though not drowned, a more pitiable sight could scarcely be presented. He had fallen head-foremost into the filthy pool; the water was trickling down his head and face, and his countenance was plastered with an unsavoury coating of green slime.
"What are you? a boy?" inquired the carter. "Well, you're a pretty sight, anyhow!"
For answer Griffin burst into tears. Ellis, who had by this time found his way round the pond, joined in the criticism of his friend.
"Well, I am blessed!" In spite of his own plight, he was almost moved to mirth. "Won't old Mother Fletcher take it out of you! I wouldn't be in your shoes for a pound."