And lend me two shillings, can you?
I've not got much left.

Bunty, you selfish little pig, you might get me some milk! I've been begging and begging of you for hours, and my head is going to Catherine wheels for want of it." "Have some corned beef, Judy, dear--oh, Judy, don't be so silly and horrid after I nearly got killed for you," Bunty said, trying with trembling fingers to stuff a piece into her mouth.
The little girl rolled over and began muttering again.
"Seventy-seven miles," she said, "and I walked eleven yesterday, that makes eleven hundred and seventy-seven--and six the day before because my foot had a blister--that's eleven hundred and eighty-three.
And if I walk ten miles a day I shall get home in eleven hundred and eighty-three times ten, that's a thousand and--and--oh! what is it?
whatever is it?
Bunty, you horrid little pig, can't you, tell me what it is?
My head aches too much to work, and a thousand and something days--that's a year--two years--two years--three years before I get there.
Oh, Pip, Meg, three years! oh, Esther! ask him, ask him to let me come home! Three years--years--years!" The last word was almost shrieked and the child struggled to her feet and tried to walk.
Bunty caught her arms and held her.

"Let me go, can't you ?" she said hoarsely.

"I shall never get there at this rate.

Three years, and all those miles!" She pushed him aside and tried to walk across the loft, but her legs tottered under her and she fell down in a little senseless heap.
"Meg--I'll fetch Meg," said the little boy in a trembling, alarmed voice, and he slipped down the opening and hastened up to the house..