“Yes, uncle (for both he and Charles always so called him), and why not? Our sailors are the bravest and finest fellows in the world. Wouldn’t I like to be a middy in the king’s navy, that’s all? I’d lay my life I should be an admiral before I was twenty.”
Sir Richard did not reply; but walked to the window thoughtfully, and looked out upon the cold, snow-covered landscape, and as the winds sighed mournfully down the chimney, he tapped Ned affectionately on the head, as he said,
“Ah, my lad, your brother Charles will make the best man of the two yet; see, he is not much older than you are, and yet he stands well in the East Indian house, and will be a rich man one of these days if he’s industrious and behaves himself.”
“Perhaps so,” said Ned, biting his lip; “but I never did like pen and ink and figures; that sort of work is too slow for me.”
“I know it. You would rather go hunting and boating; but, believe me, there are more hardships at sea than boys like you ever dreamed of, Ned.”
“I shouldn’t mind ’em.”
“And danger, too.”
“That’s just what I should like,” said curly-headed Ned, laughing. “I wouldn’t give a dump for an English boy without he liked adventures and danger, and could well beat any foreigner he came across.”
While he spoke the lodge bell rang.
“Who is that?” asked the knight of a footman who entered.