"Dear, dear!" chuckled Mr. Barley, "five pounds! They may teach you
young gentlemen to talk Latin and Greek and what-not at your school, but
it 'ud do a lot more good if they'd teach you how many beans make five;
it 'ud do a lot more good if they'd teach you to come in when it rained;
it 'ud do ..."
Mike was reading the letter.
"Dear Mr. Barley," it ran.
"I send the L5, which I could not get before. I hope it is in time,
because I don't want you to write to the headmaster. I am sorry Jane and
John ate your wife's hat and the chicken and broke the vase."
There was some more to the same effect; it was signed "T.G. Jellicoe."
"What on earth's it all about?" said Mike, finishing this curious
document.
Mr. Barley slapped his leg. "Why, Mr. Jellicoe keeps two dogs here; I
keep 'em for him till the young gentlemen go home for their holidays.
Aberdeen terriers, they are, and as sharp as mustard. Mischief! I
believe you, but, love us! they don't do no harm! Bite up an old shoe
sometimes and such sort of things. The other day, last Wednesday it
were, about 'ar parse five, Jane--she's the worst of the two, always up
to it, she is--she got hold of my old hat and had it in bits before you
could say knife.
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