“Do I?” said the boy, laughing. “I am glad. No, I don’t think I am. But, I say, we mustn’t quarrel often then, for I shall grow old too soon.”
“I said we’d never quarrel again,” said Andrew seriously; “and somehow you are really a good deal older than I have thought. But, I say, we must go and meet Mr Selby to-night.”
“Oh yes, of course; and I shall always stand by and stop you in case you turn peppery to any one else, and stop you from righting him.”
“If it was in a right cause you would not.”
“I shouldn’t?”
“No; I believe you would help me, and be ready to draw on my behalf.”
Frank turned to the speaker with a thoughtful, far-off look in his eyes, as if he were gazing along the vista of the future at something happening far away.
“I hope that will never come,” he said quietly, “for when I used to fight with my fists, as I said, I always forgot what I was about. How would it be if I held a drawn sword?”
“You would use it as a gentleman, a soldier, and a man of honour should,” said Andrew warmly.
“Should I?” said Frank sadly.