“Oh! he knew I was at hand, sir,” said Fry, “or he would not have tried it.”
“Of course he would not; I remember last night he was grumbling at his bed being taken away. I'll serve him out!”
Soon after this the governor met the chaplain and told him the case. “He shall make you an apology”—imperative mood him.
“Me, an apology!”
“Of course—you are the officer that has the care of his soul and he shall apologize to you for making away with it or trying it on.”
This resolution was conveyed to Gillies with fearful threats, so when the chaplain visited him he had got his lesson pat.
“I beg your reverence's pardon for hanging myself,” began he at sight, rather loud and as bold as brass.
“Beg the Almighty's pardon, not mine.”
“No! the governor said it was yours I was to beg,” demurred Gillies.
“Very well. But you should beg God's pardon more than mine.”