“Yes? What?” said Dick, sitting bolt upright.
“You write a letter to Rajah Singh, and tell him he’s a chuckle-headed fool of a nigger, and that if he dares show himself anywhere near here you’ll punch his head.”
“Bah!”
“It’ll make him come down in a huff, and then we can have some more fun.”
Dick rose from his seat.
“What are you going to do? Write the letter at once?”
“Bah!” ejaculated Dick; “I’m going to bed.”
“Best thing you can do, my little man. You’re tired, and the dustman has been shaking his bag in your poor dear little eyes, as my old nurse used to say. Be off. You have been as disagreeable as you stand high for the last hour.”
“Well, it’s late, isn’t it? You haven’t been any too amiable,” retorted Dick.
“No, dear boy, I haven’t. Mine is a vile temper. I think it’s because I never can have my own way. There, all right, old chap; I’ll go too. Turn out the lamp.”