upper you had that
night, according to your deserts.

"But though we were dashed to the ground for a time, we were not wholly
discomfited. Our determination to know all about it seemed to increase
with the difficulty. And Uncle Ben's manner last night was so dry,
when we tried to romp and to lead him out, that it was much worse than
Jamaica ginger grated into a poor sprayed finger. So we sent him to
bed at the earliest moment, and held a small council upon him. If
you remember you, John, having now taken to smoke (which is a hateful
practice), had gone forth grumbling about your bad supper and not taking
it as a good lesson."

"Why, Annie," I cried, in amazement at this, "I will never trust you
again for a supper. I thought you were so sorry."

"And so I was, dear; very sorry. But still we must do our duty. And when
we came to consider it, Ruth was the cleverest of us all; for she said
that surely we must have some man we could trust about the farm to go
on a little errand; and then I remembered that old John Fry would do
anything for money."

"Not for money, plaize, miss," said John Fry, taking a pull at the beer;
"but for the love of your swate face."

"To be sure, John; with the King's behind it. And so Lizzie ran for John
Fry at once, and we gave him full directions, how he was to slip out of
the barley in the confusion of the breakfast, so that none might miss
him; and to run back to the black combe bottom, and there he would find
the very same pony which Uncle Ben had been tied upon, and there is no
faster upon the farm. And then, without waiting for any breakfast unless
he could eat it either running or trotting, he was to travel all up the
black combe, by the track Uncle Reuben had taken, and up at the top to
look forward carefully, and so to trace him without being seen."

"Ay; and raight wull a doo'd un," John cried, with his mouth in the
bullock's horn.

"Well, and what did you see, John?" I asked, with great anxiety; though
I meant to have shown no interest.

"John was just at the very point of it," Lizzie answered me sharply,
"when you chose to come in and stop him."

"Then let him begin again," said I; "things being gone so far, it is now
my duty to know everything, for the sake of you girls and mother."

"Hem!" cried Lizzie, in a nasty way; but I took no notice of her, for
she was always bad to deal with. Therefore John Fry began again, being
heartily glad to do so, that his story might get ou