He slapped his pockets as he spoke, and half-held open that of his jacket, the thought of the succulent treasures contained therein having completely swept away all his past ill-humour.
“Oh, I don’t know that I want anything to-night,” said Glyn.—“Yes, I do. I want to find little Burton. After we had gone away to-day Slegge kicked him brutally.”
“What for?” cried Singh indignantly.
“Because he wouldn’t bring an insulting message to fetch us back.”
“Oh!” cried Singh. “And you wouldn’t stop and lick him! He’ll get worse and worse. Poor little chap! I like Burton.”
“So do I,” said Glyn rather coldly.
“What makes you speak like that?” asked Singh.
“I was thinking about what I ought to do.”
“To do? What do you mean?”
“About giving him such a hiding as he deserves—that is, if I can.”