"Well?" said the boy, with a mocking smile.
"What did your father say?"
Phra was silent for a few moments, and then he spoke quietly.
"That I was too much of a boy yet to think of going after tigers," said the lad slowly, and then he started and frowned. For the doctor had thrown himself back in one of the cane chairs, which gave vent to a peculiar squeaking noise, while its occupier rocked himself to and fro, literally roaring with laughter.
"I am very sorry if I have said some ridiculous thing, sir," said Phra gravely. "I speak English as well as I can."
"Ridiculous thing!" cried the doctor, springing up and seizing the young Siamese by the shoulders; "why, it was splendid. Look at him," he cried, half-choking with laughter, "look at Hal! Oh, dear me, how you have made my sides ache!"
"But I don't understand," said Phra.
"Then you soon shall," cried the doctor. "My lord there has been in a tantrum because—because—oh, dear me, I shall be able to speak directly."
Phra looked in a puzzled way from the laughing doctor to his friend, who sat frowning and biting his lips.
"Because," continued the doctor, "Mr. Kenyon here has told him that he should not like him to go to the tiger hunt."