it! Fry it! Dry it! You’re another! Up and off! There’s enough!—
As he uttered the last words, Curdie let go his hold of his companion, and rushed at the thing in the road as if he would trample it under his feet. It gave a great spring, and ran straight up one of the rocks like a huge spider. Curdie turned back laughing, and took Irene’s hand again. She grasped his very tight, but said nothing till they had passed the rocks. A few yards more and she found herself on a part of the road she knew, and was able to speak again.
“Do you know, Curdie, I don’t quite like your song: it sounds to me rather rude,” she said.
“Well, perhaps it is,” answered Curdie. “I never thought of that; it’s a way we have. We do it because they don’t like it.”
“Who don’t like it?”
“The ‘cobs,’ as we call them.”
“Don’t!” said the nurse.
“Why not?” said Curdie.
“I beg you won’t. Please don’t.”
“Oh! if you ask me that way, of course, I won’t; though I don’t a bit know why. Look! there are the lights of your great house down below. You’ll be at home in five minutes now.”
Nothing more happened. They reached home in safety. Nobody had missed them, or even known they had gone out; and they arrived at the door belonging to their part of the house without anyone seeing them. The nurse was rushing in with a hurried and not over-gracious good