“Yes, sir,” said the boy humbly. “I was coming to apologise to you, when the doctor met me and drew me in here.”
“Yes; looked so ill. Thought I’d got a job to tinker him up; but he only wants a bit of comforting, to show him he’s amongst friends.”
“You were coming to do what, boy?” said the captain, as soon as he could get in a word,—“apologise?”
“Yes, sir; I was very obstinate and rude to you.”
“Yes, thank goodness, my lad!” cried the captain, holding the boy by both shoulders now, as he hung his head. “Look up. Apologise! Why, Frank, you made me feel very proud of my old friend’s son. I always liked you, boy; but never half so well as when you spoke out as you did to the Prince. So you know all now?”
“Yes,” said the boy bitterly.
“How?”
“My father has written to me telling me it is true.”
“Hah! Well, it’s a bad job, my lad; but we will not judge him. Robert Gowan must have suffered bitterly, and been in despair of ever coming back, before he changed his colours. But we can’t see why, and how things are. I want no apology, Frank, only for you to come to me as your father’s old friend.”
Frank looked at him wonderingly.