A pair of red cheeks appeared above the floor of the loft, and the pale eyes looked threateningly into the gloom.
In a minute they encountered Tommy's brown ones, bright and defiant.
The farmer grunted.
"Bees you there, eh?" he asked.
Tommy grinned.
"All right, you needn't get shirty," he said.
"Shirty, eh? I wunt get shirty. Don't you make no mistake. Jake!"
"Ah!"
"My stick down there?"