a load o' cherries to bring away, an' strawberries--thumpin' ripe
strawberries, hid somewhere what I know of. Oh, I think not. An' maybe I
wasn't told to come up to The House Sundays an' help myself. Very likely
not.' All this in an airy whisper.

'Halves!' hissed Jacker.

'Quarters!' murmured Peterson from his hiding place behind the desk.

'P'raps I don't know somethin' too,' continued Jacker mysteriously.

Dick Haddon cocked his eye.

'Pompey, the woodjammer, tol' me he see that bandy whimboy what you
fought at the picnic ridin' your billy down to Cow Flat, an' Butts seemed
to like it.'

This was serious. The idea of Butts becoming attached to another master
gave Dick a real pang. Already he had suffered many twinges of conscience
in consequence of his neglect of the goat in captivity.

'Wait till r get hold o' that cove,' he said bitterly. 'I'll murder him.'

'Ain't we never goin' after them goats?' asked Jacker.

Dick nodded emphatically.

'My oath, I'll fix it.'

'An' you'll shell out wif the strawb'ries?'