“What’s that for?” asked Dig, who felt quite out of the running.
“Never mind. Cut away; there’s no time to lose. Don’t let anyone see you.”
Dig obeyed, and selected one of the turfs in question, which he clandestinely conveyed up to his room.
“Now lend a hand to wrap it up,” said Arthur. “Don’t you see it’ll make a parcel just about the size and weight of the sack? Mind how you tie it up—a double knot, not a bow.”
Dig began to perceive what the sport was at last, and grinned complacently as he tied up the new parcel into an exact counterfeit of the old.
Arthur overhauled it critically, and pronounced it all right. “Now,” said he, “we’ll write him a letter.”
He sat down and dashed off the following, Dig nudging vehement approval of the contents from behind.
“Sir,—I’m a cad and a liar and a thief. Don’t believe a word I say. You can tell anyone you like. Most of them know already. Yours truly,
“Jerry Sneak.”
“That’s ripping!” exclaimed the admiring Dig, as this elegant epistle was carefully folded into the original envelope, and, after being gummed down, was thrust under the string of the counterfeit parcel. “Oh, I wish I could be there to see it opened!”