“You have made me uneasy about all this,” he said, thoughtfully. “I will go on board the schooner, and see who is there among my neighbours. I should like to interfere if I could.”
“Better not, sir. May make bad blood after.”
“Morgan!” cried my father, so sternly that the man drew himself up as if he were on parade, and his old officer were in uniform. “Do not forget yourself, sir. Go and unloose the boat. You can row me on board.”
Morgan saluted and went away, while my father began to walk up and down the sandy path among his flowers. I waited a bit, and then went hesitatingly up to him. For a few minutes he did not notice me, and I saw that his lips were pressed close together, and his brow wrinkled.
“Ah, George,” he said at last, and he laid his hand upon my shoulder.
“Going out in the boat, father?”
“Yes, my boy.”
“Take me too.”
He looked at me quickly, and shook his head.
“But I should like to go, father.”