“Put that out of your head, Sam; or if you don’t fancy the sea, have it out at once.”
“O Papa! please listen. You know, though Miss Fosbrook is very jolly, we couldn’t help getting nohow when you were away, us two particularly.”
“You have no mischief to confess, surely, Sam?” said his father, really imagining that this preference to Hal was acting on him so as to make him mention some concealed misdemeanour; “if you have, you know truth is the best line.”
“But I haven’t, Papa,” said Sam, looking up, quite surprised. “You know I am a year older, and couldn’t help caring more; and Miss Fosbrook is so nice, one couldn’t bother her; but you see the Grevilles would put it into Hal’s head that it was stupid and like a girl to mind her. It is all their fault; and they were sneaks about the turkey-cock, and wouldn’t pay—and I know he would have ended by putting the money back when he could, only Davie made such a row before he could; and he did so reckon on the navy—he would pay it back the first thing.” The last sentences came between gasps, very like sobs.
“Have done with Hal,” said Captain Merrifield, still with displeasure. “I wouldn’t take him now on any account. If the Grevilles lead him wrong, what would he do among the mids? If he acts dishonourably here, we should have him disgracing himself and his profession. Since he can’t take it, and you won’t, I shall try to make some exchange of the chance till John or David will be old enough.”
“But Papa, I—” began Sam.
“I don’t want to force you to it,” continued Captain Merrifield, in his vexed voice. “I never mean to force my sons to any profession if I can help it; and you have a right to be considered. It has always been a disadvantage to me, and to this place, that I was bred to the sea instead of to farming; and though you can’t live on the property without some profession, it may be quite as well that you should turn your mind to something else—only if it be the army, I can’t help you on in it.”
“I had rather go to sea, if you please,” said Sam.
“Don’t say so to please me,” said his father. “I tell you, the examinations are a pretty deal harder than they were in my time. It is not a trade for a youngster to be idle in; and I won’t have you, just when you’ve knocked about a few years, and are getting fit to be of use on board and nowhere else, calling yourself heartily sick of it, and turning round to say it was my doing.”
“I’ll never do that, Papa,” said poor Sam, unable to understand why his father should speak as though scolding him.