"Mind your own business, sir," said Paul sharply.
"It is my own business," said Chawner; "but I don't want to be told what you're going to tell him. I know."
"Good heavens!" said Mr. Bultitude, annoyed to find his secret in possession of this boy of all others.
"Yes," repeated Chawner. "I know, and I tell you what—I won't have it!"
"Won't have it! and why?"
"Never mind why. Perhaps I don't choose that the Doctor shall be told just yet; perhaps I mean to go up and tell him myself some other day. I want to have a little more fun out of it before I've done."
"But—but," said Paul, "you young ghoul, do you mean to say that all you care for is to see other people's sufferings?"
Chawner grinned maliciously. "Yes," he said suavely; "it amuses me."
"And so," said Paul, "you want to hold me back a little longer—because it's so funny; and then, when you're quite tired of your sport, you'll go up and tell the Doctor my—my unhappy story yourself, eh? No, my friend; I'd rather not tell him myself—but I'll be shot if I let you have a finger in it. I know my own interests better than that!"