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Updated: May 1, 2025
"You have an odd way of talking, Arthur, which doesn't do you justice. As I said, you have more than once made me wonder whether you were not keeping back something about this wretched affair which I ought to know." "Honour bright, I know a jolly lot less about it than you; so you really needn't be afraid of me; and Dig's safe too. Safe as a door-nail."
The unanimous opinion below was that it would not. Even Dig's weight as he went up had been as much as they could manage. Finally Railsford suggested that a rope should be thrown up, which Dig could tie round Arthur's body, and so support him from above as he came down. The plan was a good one, and Arthur contrived by its help to lower himself down the steps into the arms of his rescuers.
"Yes; it's a present from Dig's mother. I say, he's not a bad-looking beast, is he?" "Who? Dig? Not so very," said the captain, quite relieved to be able to wash his hands of this precious couple. He departed, leaving the two worthies in a state of bewildered jubilation. "What a splendid lark!" exclaimed Arthur. "We shall be able to do just what we like all the term. There! we're in luck.
He had safely accomplished half the distance when a ledge of mortar gave way under him and left him hanging by his arms to the ivy. He felt in vain with his feet for some support, but could find none. Dig's previous descent had knocked away most of the little ledges by which they had come up.
We got to the top, you know; and I came down as soon as I saw you all starting; and he shouted that he would be down in a second, and was going to walk home; and we weren't to wait. I say, I wonder if he's got stuck up there, or come a cropper?" Dig's face was pale as the thought flashed across his mind. Railsford was not a bit less concerned.
"You young idiots," shouted Ainger as he rushed in, half-blinded with the smoke raised by Dig's coup de theatre, "you'll have the house on fire! Bring a jug with you, both of you, up to the roof." They each snatched up a jug, and with pale countenances followed the captain up to the skylight.
Dig's the only f-friend I have in the world except Chichester. Push the brandy over, Dig. Of course there's Cleone, but she's only a sister, after all. Don't know what I should do if it wasn't for Dig d-do I, Dig? And Chichester of course. Give Mr. Bev'ley a chair. Dig. I'll get him glass!" Hereupon Mr.
I feel as if my joints want oiling." "Come on," said Dig. The descent was slow, and for poor Arthur painful; but, thanks to the ivy and Dig's steady steering, it was in due time accomplished safely, and the top of the ladder reached. "Now, then, one at a time," shouted the farmer. "He can't go alone," called Dig; "he's too stiff. Won't it bear both of us?"
They had munched promiscuously all day during the railway journey especially and almost needed a night's repose to enable them to attack the formidable banquet now proposed on equal terms. But hospitality brooks no delays. Besides, Dig's chicken was already a little over ripe, and it was impossible to say how Arthur's lobster might endure the night.
Ah, but if the critic could have looked into Dig's heavy heart as he floundered through the mud that night he would have told a different tale. Often enough our friend seems to us like an ordinary friend. We have our little tiffs and our little reconciliations; we have our mutual jokes and our time-honoured arguments.
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