Part 3 (1/2)
”How do you know?” cried the admiral. ”It's as if ten thousand red-hot irons were searing it. Harry, you've spoiled that boy.”
”No, I join issue there,” said Captain Belton. ”You've indulged him ten times more than ever I have, Tom.”
”It is not true, brother Harry,” said the admiral, limping to his chair.
”Oh yes, it is. Hasn't your uncle spoiled you, Sydney, far more than I have?”
”No, father,” replied the boy, quietly, as he helped the old admiral to sit down, and placed an ottoman under his injured leg.
”Thankye, boy, thankye. And you're not so bad as I said; 'tis quite true, it's your father's doing.”
”I think you've both spoiled me,” said Sydney, quietly; and the doctor helped himself to another gla.s.s of port to hide his mirth.
”Won't do, Liss, you're laughing. I can see you,” said the admiral.
”That's just what you doctors enjoy, seeing other people suffer, so that you may laugh and grow fat.”
”Oh, I was not laughing at your pain,” said the doctor, quietly, ”but at Sydney's judgment. He is quite right, you do both spoil him.”
”What?”
”He has three times as much money to spend as is right, and I wonder he does not waste it more. Well, Syd, my boy, so they will not let you be a doctor?”
Sydney frowned, and cracked a walnut till the sh.e.l.l and nut were all crushed together.
”And so you are to make up your mind to go to sea?”
”Yes,” said the admiral, emphatically.
”Certainly,” said Captain Belton; and, as soon after the conversation turned into political matters, Sydney quietly left his chair, strolled to the window, and stood gazing out at the estuary upon which the captain's house looked down.
It was a glorious view. The long stretch of water was dappled with orange and gold; and here and there the great men-of-war were lying at anchor, some waiting their commanders; others, whose sea days were past, waiting patiently for their end, sent along dark shadows behind them.
Here and there fis.h.i.+ng-boats with tawny sails were putting out to sea for the night's fis.h.i.+ng; and as Sydney's eyes wandered, a frown settled upon his forehead, and he stepped out through the open window into the garden.
”Bother the old sea!” he said, petulantly. ”It's always sea, sea, sea, from morning till night. I don't want to go, and I won't.”
As he spoke he pa.s.sed under an apple tree, one of whose fruit, missed in the gathering a month before, had dropped, and picking it up, the boy relieved his feelings by throwing it with all his might across the garden.
The effect was as sudden as that produced by his kick; for there was a shout and sound of feet rapidly approaching, and a red-faced boy of about his own age came into sight, hatless and breathless, panting, wild-eyed, and with fists clenched ready for a.s.sault.
”Who threw--Oh, it was you, was it, Master Sydney? You coward!”
”Who's a coward?” cried Sydney, hotly.
”You are. You throwed that apple and hit me, 'cause you knowed I dursen't hit you again.”
”No, I didn't.”
”Yes, you did, and you are a coward.”
”No, I'm not a coward.”