But almost before he could speak there was father close beside him, standing on a round little hump of dry grass which was sticking up out of the bog, and with one grip he got hold of Olly under his arm, and then jump! on to another little hump of grass, jump! on to another, and there they were safe on the path again.
"Oh, you black boy!" cried father and mother and Milly all together.

Was there ever such a little object! All his nice clean holland frock was splashed with black mud; and what had happened to his stockings?
"I've got mud-stockings on," shouted Olly, capering about, and pointing to his legs which were caked with mud up to his knees.
"You're a nice respectable boy to take out to dinner," said Mrs.Norton.
"I think we'll leave you on the mountain to have dinner with the sheep." "Oh no, father," pleaded Milly, taking Olly fast by the hand.

"We can wash him at Aunt Emma's, you know." "Don't go too close to him, Milly!" exclaimed Mrs.Norton, "or you'll get as black as he is.

We shall have to put him under the pump at Aunt Emma's, that's quite certain.

But there's nothing to wash him with here, so he must just go as he is for a bit.