“Yes; as you did.”
“Well, there were six of them in my big box, and I ran up to get one.”
“And then left the keys in the box?”
“Well, I suppose I did, in the hurry and confusion. Oh, Glynny, what a beast I am! I wish I hadn’t such a brute of a temper. It makes me flare up all at once and say such nasty things; and you are always as cool as a gourd, and get the best of me.”
“Well, you should be more careful,” said Glyn. “I wish, too, that you hadn’t such a temper. You ought to master it.”
“I can’t,” said the lad sadly. “It always masters me. It’s through being born in such a hot climate, I suppose. Oh, I do hate to have to be always begging your pardon.”
“Then I suppose that’s why you don’t do it now?”
“Oh, you know, old chap! I do beg it heartily. You don’t want me to go down on my knees like a coolie?”
“Not I; only, somehow or other, I seem to be always ruffling up your coat about something.”
“Well, go on; I do deserve it,” cried Singh. “I shall be such a good boy some day, thanks to Professor Severn. No, no; don’t lecture me any more.”