Chapter Eighteen.
The Doctor makes a Suggestion and Frank is Startled.
“Your mother must be a favourite with the Princess, and no mistake,” said Andrew one morning, “or after that business of your father’s you would never be allowed to stay.”
“If you come to that,” said Frank in retort, “if one half of what I know about were to get abroad, where would you be?”
“Perhaps in two pieces, with the top bit carefully preserved, as a warning to treasonable people—so called.”
“I don’t think that,” said Frank gravely; “for they would not go to such lengths with a mere boy.”
“Who are you calling a mere boy?”
“You,” replied Frank coolly. “You are quite as young as I am in some things, though you are so much older in others.”
“Perhaps so,” said Andrew rather haughtily. “Anyhow, I don’t feel in the least afraid of my principles being known. You can’t tell tales, being one of us.”
“I—am—not—and—never—will—be!” said Frank, dividing his words as if there were a comma between each pair, and speaking with tremendous emphasis.