Chapter Twenty Nine.
A Queer Quarrel.
“I sent a message to you, Mr Herrick,” he cried angrily, and I could then guess that he had been coming to see why I had delayed. “I have something to say to you, sir, respecting the company you keep, and the society you affect, which I am given to understand is not that which conduces to good dishipline.”
“Oh, that’s what Mr Smith thinks, sir,” I said coolly.
“Oh, indeed!” he cried sarcastically.
“Yes, sir; he said something about it to me this morning, but he does not know.”
“Indeed!” he cried, growing black as a thundercloud; “then I am to take it, sir, that you do?”
“I hope so, sir; I try to know.”