“He wouldn’t let you step on his land. He is a cross old fellow.”
“Why, he would let me have some water. Of course he would,” added Flora.
“No, he wouldn’t; he drives the fellows off when they come near his house,” said Charley Green.
“I’m almost sure, if I should ask him, he would give me some water.”
“No, he wouldn’t; he would drive you off, just as he has hundreds of others. There he is now, in the garden, picking his currants,” replied Charley, pointing to the place where the currant bushes lined the fence.
“I heard my father say the boys plague him almost to death; and that must be the reason why he is so cross.”
“That may be, but he is as cross as he can be, whatever the reason is.”
“Poor old man! It is too bad for the boys to plague him. They say he has been all over the world, and sailed upon all the oceans.”
“I know he has,” added Charley. “He told my father something about one of his voyages. Father says he likes to tell stories when he can get any one to hear him.”
“I should like to hear him,” said Flora; “I could sit all the afternoon and listen to stories about the sea; about sailors and such things.”