“Yes, sir,” Steve acknowledged; “it was.”
“But I am pleased to hear of your good behaviour since that time, and I hope that your reformation is real. I do not wish to vex you, Steve; I take the liberty of speaking to you thus because I know you are good at heart, and because you have always been a loyal friend to my son.”
Such “advice” had been dinned into the sufferer’s ears so incessantly lately that he had come to expect it and to endure it with fortitude. Still, he could not but see that Mr. Lawrence meant well, and he mumbled “Yes, sir,” very meekly.
But his mind was filled with great dread. “If they should pop off now,” he ruminated, “what would Mr. Lawrence think of me? He would think it was all my doings, of course, and that I am as bad a boy as ever! How mad he would be! Oh, why didn’t I leave those fire-crackers alone!”
“It is very warm on this island, Mr. Lawrence,” he said.
Mr. Lawrence, however, was in no humor to take hints from a school-boy, and he simply said, “So it is, Stephen. Why do you stay here, in solitude and misery? Why don’t you get up and enjoy yourself with the other boys? Surely you find no amusement in keeping up this useless little fire!”
Steve looked confused, but contrived to say, “It needs some one to watch the fire, sir; it might do a great deal of harm.”
“Oh, no, Stephen; it wouldn’t be any great loss if the fire should burn up the whole island, and all the brush and firewood piled up on it. It couldn’t spread any farther, of course. Come, come, Stephen; don’t make a martyr of yourself by staying here and broiling your face. The face looks better bronzed by the sun and the fresh air than by fire, anyway; though some ladies are not aware of it.”
“Yes, sir; but the fire might go out.”