Part 82 (1/2)

I want to go and have a wash.”

”Oh, Mr Gordon,” cried the poor little woman, as Esau ungraciously shook himself free, ”how could you hit Esau first--and you such friends?”

”Because he was trying to make me out a blackguard,” I cried.

”Well, I couldn't help it,” cried Esau; ”I thought it was true.”

”But you'll shake hands with me, my dear, after I've come all these hundreds and thousands of miles--shake hands and say you're sorry you hit Esau first.”

”Oh, do be quiet, mother,” cried Esau angrily. ”What's the good o'

making such a fuss? We fell out and had a bit of a fight, and it's all over, and I'm very sorry, and if he'll shake hands, there's mine.”

”Not till you tell me you don't believe I did that,” I cried fiercely.

”Well, there then, I don't believe you told him. I can't now you've knocked it all out of me. But I should have won.”

”If I had not been so weak from my wound, you would not have won,” I cried.

”Well, no,” said Esau thoughtfully, as we shook hands, ”for you do hit precious hard. There, mother, will that do?”

”Oh yes, my dear,” cried Mrs Dean, clinging to my hands now; ”and may I kiss you, my dear?”

I bent down and kissed the little woman, whose face was full of sympathy for me.

”And you've been dangerously ill and nearly dead, Mr Raydon told us.

Well, that excuses everything. Esau's temper was horrible after he had been ill with measles. You remember, my dear?”

”I don't,” said Esau, on being thus appealed to. ”I know you were always cross with me, and wouldn't let me go out.”

”Ah well, ah well,” said Mr John Dempster, ”never mind about that now.

Mayne, my dear boy, do wash your face, and let's have a long talk. I am sorry my dear wife saw you like this, for she has been talking so much about you. I am very sorry.”

”Sorry, sir!” I cried pa.s.sionately; ”it is horrible.”

”Yes, it is unfortunate, but an accident,” he said smilingly, as he laid his hand upon my shoulder. ”You have not fought much since I saw you last?”

”Fought? No,” I said, unable to keep back a smile at his question.

”Ah! you laugh, but I have one memory of your prowess in that way.

There, remove those marks.”

”That's better,” he said, a few minutes later. ”Now I want to know all about your adventures.”

”And I about yours, sir,” I said eagerly, for we were alone, Esau having pa.s.sed out of the strangers' quarters with his mother. ”Tell me about Mrs John. Is she better?”

”Ah, you did not see,” he said, with a smile that was quite womanly lighting up his face. ”For a time she frightened me, but once we were at sea she began to mend, and for months now the change has been wonderful.”

”I am glad,” I cried.