He pointed to a man with a large can, and they were willingly supplied each with a draught of milk, after which they bent their steps towards the pier.
“I have my glass, Dick,” said Mr Temple, “and I can have a good look at the shore from out there.”
“Lend it to me, father,” cried Dick eagerly; and quickly focussing it, he directed it at a group of fishermen on their way down to the harbour.
“Yes, there they are,” cried Dick eagerly. “There’s Josh, and there’s Will. I say, father, I don’t believe they had the doctor to them last night,” he added laughingly. “You were too frightened about me, you know.”
“The danger is behind you now, and so you laugh at it, my boy,” replied Mr Temple quietly; “but you did not feel disposed to laugh last night when you were drifting in the boat. And, Dick, my boy, some day you may understand better the meaning of the word anxiety.”
“Were you very anxious about me last night, father?” said Dick eagerly.
“I was in agony, my boy,” said Mr Temple quietly.
Dick’s lips parted, and he was about to say something, but the words would not come. His lip quivered, and the tears rose to his eyes, but he turned away his head, thrust his hands down into his pockets, and began to whistle, while his father’s brow wrinkled, and, not seeing his boy’s face, nor reading the emotion the lad was trying to hide, his face grew more and more stern, while a sensation of mingled bitterness and pain made him silent for some little time.
They walked on in silence, till suddenly Mr Temple’s eyes lit upon the top of the gilt-edged cigar-case sticking out of Dick’s pocket.
“What have you there, Dick?” he said rather sternly.