Why don't he attend to his fishing ?" Bigley looked up at me sharply, to see if I had any hidden meaning.
"He does attend to his fishing," he said angrily; "and if he hadn't been attending to his fishing he wouldn't have been out in his boat that day, and saved you from being drowned." I never liked Bigley half so well before as when he spoke up like that in defence of his father; but I was in a sour disappointed mood that day, because the holidays were over and I was going back to school, so I said something that was thoroughly ungenerous, and which I felt sorry for as I spoke.
"Yes, he saved us all from being drowned, I suppose," I said; "but he hadn't been fishing, for there were no fish in the boat." "Just as if anybody could be sure of catching fish every time he went out," cried Bigley angrily.

"There, you want to quarrel because you are miserable at having to go back to school, but I sha'n't.

I hate it.

Go and fall out with old Bob Chowne." This made me feel angry and I drew away from him, for it was trying to make out that I was as quarrelsome as Bob Chowne delighted to be.

But I felt so horribly in fault directly after that I went back to my place and sat by him in silence.
After a time the old carrier turned to us with a request that we would get out and give the horse a rest up the hill.
We all obeyed, two of us jumping out over the tail-board, the other by the front, and leaping off the shaft.
It was plain enough that the holidays were over, and that the joyous hearty spirit of the homeward-bound was there no more, for Bob Chowne took one side of the road in front of the horse, and the old carrier the other, while Bigley and I hung back behind and walked slowly after them on opposite sides after the fashion of those in front.
Then came the stopping of the cart, and mounting again and descending a couple more times, before we reached Barnstaple, dull, low-spirited, and ready to find about a score of boys just back, and looking as doleful as we did ourselves..