Great was the joy of Ducklow. Great also was the wrath of him, when he
turned and discovered Taddy.
"Didn't I tell you to stand by the old mare?"
"She won't stir," said Taddy, shrinking away again.
"Come here!" And Ducklow grasped him by the collar. "What have you been
doin'? Look at that!"
"'Twa'n't me!"--beginning to whimper, and ram his fists into his eyes.
"Don't tell me 'twa'n't you!" Ducklow shook him till his teeth
chattered. "What was you pullin' up the carpet for?"
"Lost a marble!" snivelled Taddy.
"Lost a marble! Ye didn't lose it under the carpet, did ye? Look at all
that straw pulled out!"--shaking him again.
"Didn't know but it might 'a' got under the carpet, marbles roll so,"
explained Taddy, as soon as he could get his breath.
"Wal, Sir!" Ducklow administered a resounding box on his ear. "Don't you
do such a thing again, if you lose a million marbles!"
"Ha'n't got a million!" Taddy wept, rubbing his cheek. "Ha'n't got but
four! Won't ye buy me some to-day?"
"Go to that mare, and don't you leave her again till I come, or I'll
_marble_ ye in a way you won't like!"
Understanding, by this somewhat equivocal form of expression, that
flagellation was threatened, Taddy obeyed, still feeling his smarting
and burning ear.
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