He turned to the boy and took him by the arm. “Come on, youngster!” he said. “Never mind about the picture. Much better give it to your friend! I’m going to Weevil’s shop now myself, and you can show me the way. I’ll give you your sixpence for that !” He pulled the child forward with him and made him walk by his side, his arm thrown lightly and casually round Lobbie’s neck. But all this sagacious hypocrisy no more deceived the cynical intelligence of Gerda’s brother than did the unction of that arm about his shoulder!

The child slipped out of his grasp like a little eel. “Don’t ’ee hold on to I, Mister. I ain’t going to rin nowhere. I ain’t a-gived school the go-by for to play marbles. I be goin’ fishing with Bob Weevil, present. He lets I hold his net for’n.”

“Oh, is there any fishing about here?” enquired Wolf blandly, accepting his defeat. The boy skipped a pace or two like a young rabbit.