‘Where do you mean to stop for the night, Noah?’ she asked, after they had walked a few hundred yards.

‘How should I know?’ replied Noah, whose temper had been considerably impaired by walking.

‘Near, I hope,’ said Charlotte.

‘No, not near,’ replied Mr. Claypole. ‘There! Not near; so don’t think it.’

‘Why not?’

‘When I tell yer that I don’t mean to do a thing, that’s enough, without any why or because either,’ replied Mr. Claypole with dignity.

‘Well, you needn’t be so cross,’ said his companion.

‘A pretty thing it would be, wouldn’t