“No, don’t,” cried the baronet. “I beg yours. I am very much put out, doctor—very angry—very angry indeed. I always am when I am opposed in anything which I consider to be right. I oughtn’t to have spoken to you as I did, so pray leave this to me or I may forget myself and say words to you, my good old friend, for which I shall be sorry afterwards.”
The doctor bowed his head.
“I say, uncle,” cried Dean.
“Well, sir, and pray what do you say?” snapped out Sir James.
“I was only going to say don’t be cross with us, uncle.”
“I am not cross, sir—cross, indeed!—only angry and hurt at this opposition. Well, sir, what were you going to say?”
“Only, nunkey—”
“Nunkey, sir! Bah!” That bah! was a regular bark. “You know how I hate that silly, childish word.”
“That you don’t,” thought the boy. “You know you always like it when you are not out of temper.”
“Well, there, sir; go on.”