“And—puff—you—puff—must be more careful of your clothes—puff, boy. Puff, puff, puff. We all sail through life—puff—under orders. Puff.—Few of us is cap’ens—puff. Very few of us is admirals—puff; and what with admiralty and the gov’ment—puff, puff, and the people’s opinion—puff, and the queen—puff; they can’t do so much as they like, as a regular tar. Puff, puff.”
The way in which the ex-purser distributed his tobacco smoke during this oracular lecture to his brother’s orphan son was something astounding; and he had smoked so heavily that it seemed at last as if he were trying to veil himself from the lad’s gaze lest he should see the weakness exhibited with regard to Mrs Marion’s rule; while he kept glancing uneasily at the lad, as if feeling that he was read by heart.
“All right, uncle, I understand,” said Will, turning to go.
“That’s right—puff, Will. Good lad. Your aunt means well, and if she pitches into us both—rams us, as you may say, Will, why, we know, eh?”
“Oh yes, uncle, we know.”
“It don’t hurt us, lad. She says lots about what you cost for food, and what an expense you’ve been to her, and she calls you lazy.”
“Yes, uncle,” said Will, sadly.
“But what do it amount to, eh? Only tongue, and tongue’s only tongue after all.”
“No, uncle.”
The last puff of smoke had been sucked out of the pipe, and the old gentleman kept on gesticulating with it as he spoke.