Well, never mind, he'll know better some day." The old man sniffed several times quite severely, and sat bolt upright at the side of the cart, looking out at his horse's ears, and left us to ourselves.

Bob's fit of melancholy was over, and he was ready to make remarks upon everything he saw; but neither Bigley nor I spoke, for we were intent upon something the latter told me.
"I don't want to tell tales," he said to me in a low tone, "but father makes me miserable." "But do you think it is so bad as you say ?" Bigley nodded.
"He goes and sits on a stone with his spy-glass where he can see them, but they can't see him, and he stops there watching for hours everything they do, and comes back looking very serious and queer." "Well, what does it matter ?" I said.

"He won't hurt us.

He can't, because he is my father's tenant, and if he did he'd have to go." "Don't talk like that, Sep," whispered Bigley.

"It's bad enough now, and it would be worse then." "I say, what chaps you two are!" cried Bob Chowne.