“Because if you were I’d punch your head.”
“And so you should, brave boy; but, as I was saying, all that was beautifully spoken about the Rajah and the peace. What I object to is that a young brave seated at our council-table should mar a magnificent speech by bungling as he did for want of a proper flow of words.”
“Who did?” cried Dick.
“You did, my son. I appeal to the company assembled.”
“What do you mean?” cried Dick wonderingly.
“You said the Ranee asked her son to give a general what-you-may-call-it to everybody after the fight.”
“Of course I did,” cried Dick. “What of that?”
“A general what-you-may-call-it!” said Wyatt mockingly. “A pretty expression for the Rajah’s favourite to use when he means an amnesty!”
“Pooh!” cried Dick; “I can’t talk fine. You’re in one of your teasing fits.—He wants some antacid medicine, Doctor.”
“I’ll give him a dose that will suit his complaint,” said the doctor, nodding; and clapping his hands, a servant appeared.