The lad’s musings were interrupted to his great disgust by Andrew coming behind him with the very act and words which had annoyed him. For he started and turned angrily upon receiving a sounding slap between the shoulders.
“Why, Frank, my dear fellow,” cried Andrew, “what ails you? Hallo! eyes flashing lightning and brow heavy with thunder. Has the gentle, shepherd-like swain from the country got a temper of his own?”
“Of course I have,” cried the boy angrily. “Why don’t you let it lie quiet, and not wake it up by doing that!”
“Is the temper like a surly dog, then?” cried Andrew, laughing mockingly. “Will it bite?”
“Yes, if you tease it too much,” snapped out Frank.
“Oh, horrible! You alarm me!” cried Andrew, bounding away in mock dread.
“Don’t be a fool!” cried Frank angrily; and the tone and gesture which accompanied the request sobered Andrew in a moment, though his eyes looked his surprise that the boy whom he patronised with something very much like contempt could be roused up into showing so much strength of mind.
“What’s the matter, Frank boy?” he said quietly; “eaten something that hasn’t agreed with you?”
“No,” said the boy sharply. “I haven’t eaten it—I can’t swallow it.”
“Eh? What do you mean? What is it?”