bad to give yer the hidin' ye desarve!"

Roy was quite taken aback.

"You're quite mistaken--let us explain--we've come to see you and do you
good. Don't you know who we are? We live at the Manor. Look--get back
into bed again, you'll take cold. We've brought you some pudding."

Here a parcel of currant pudding was taken out of his jacket pocket and
held out temptingly.

"A' don't believe a word! Ye've been in the pantry a smashin' the
missus' things, and a eatin' and a drinkin' all ye can lay hands
on--begone, I tell ye!"

"That was me," put in Dudley, edging up to the irate invalid; "you see
the door was locked and we had to come in at the window, and I'm rather
fat about the shoulders, and Roy jerked me through too quick and I fell
amongst some plates. But we really haven't stolen anything, we aren't
robbers!"

"Begone, ye rascals!" repeated the old man, and then such a violent fit
of coughing took possession of him that he sank back on his bed
perfectly exhausted and helpless, waving them away and shaking his head
at them when they tried to approach him.

Dudley looked doubtfully at Roy.

"I'm afraid we aren't doing him any good," he said, slowly. "He won't
let us."