Part 25 (1/2)
”Well, buy some money.”
Goaded, William turned on him.
”Go away!” he bellowed.
Thomas's blue eyes, beneath a mop of curls, met his coldly.
”Don't talk so loud,” he said sternly. ”There's some blackberries there. You can get me some blackberries.”
William began to walk away, but Thomas trotted by his side.
”There!” he persisted. ”Jus' where I'm pointing. Lovely great big suge ones. Get 'em for my brekfust.”
Reluctantly the scout turned to perform his deed of kindness.
Thomas consumed blackberries faster than William could gather them.
”Up there,” he commanded. ”No, the one right up there I want. I want it _kick_. I've etten all the others.”
William was scratched and breathless, and his s.h.i.+rt was torn when at last the rapacious Thomas was satisfied. Then he partook of a little refreshment himself, while Thomas turned out his pockets.
”I'll let 'em go now,” he said.
One of his wood-lice, however, stayed motionless where he put it.
”Wot's the matter with it?” said William, curiously.
”I 'speck me's the matter wif it,” said Thomas succinctly. ”Now, get me some lickle fishes, an' tadpoles an' water sings,” he went on cheerfully.
William turned round from his blackberry-bush.
”Well, I won't,” he said decidedly. ”I've had enough!”
”You've had 'nuff brekfust,” said Thomas sternly. ”I've found a lickle tin for the sings, so be _kick_. Oo, here's a fly! A green fly!
It's sittin' on my finger. Does it like me 'cause it's sittin' on my finger?”
”No,” said William, turning a purple-stained countenance round scornfully.
It must be nearly night. He didn't want to be too hard on them, to make his mother ill or anything. He wanted to be as kind as possible.
He'd forgive them at once when he got home. He'd ask for one or two things he wanted, as well as the new bugle. A new penknife, and an engine with a real boiler.
”Waffor does it not like me?” persisted Thomas.
William was silent. Question and questioner were beneath contempt.
”Waffor does it not like me?” he shouted stridently.
”Flies don't like people, silly.”
”Waffor not?” retorted Thomas.