Andrew tightened his lips, and the doctor went on.
“Look here, Gowan; I tell you what I’d do if I were you. I should just wait for my chance—you’ll get plenty—and then I should go right in front of the King, dump myself down on one knee, and when he asks you what you want, tell him bluntly, like a manly boy should, to forgive your father, who is as brave an officer as ever cried ‘Forward!’ to a company of soldiers.”
“Bah!” ejaculated Andrew.
“Bo!” cried the doctor. “Good-looking gander! What do you know about it?—You ask him. As the offended king, he may feel ready to say no; but as the man and father, he’ll very likely be ready to say yes.”
“Oh, I never thought of that!” cried Frank excitedly.
“Then think about it now, my boy. That’s my prescription for a very sore case. You do it and win; and if your mother doesn’t think she’s got the best son in the world, I’m a Dutchman, and we’ve got plenty without.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, doctor!” cried Frank.
“Wish you luck, boy. Do that, and you may be as proud as a peacock afterward—proud as Andrew Forbes here, and that’s saying a deal.”
The doctor nodded to them both, took a fresh pinch of snuff loudly, and went off.
“Bah!” growled Andrew, as he went off at a great rate toward the Park. “Ridiculous! How can an English gentleman advise such a degrading course. Go down on your knees to that Dutchman, and beg!”