“Sit down,” said his father rather sternly. “I like punctuality, and would rather know when you are going out.”
“Yes, father,” said Dick, “I’ll try and remember. I’m very sorry.”
Mr Temple did not answer, but raised the newspaper he was reading, and this covered his face.
Evidently Arthur thought it covered his ears as well, for he said rather importantly:—
“I was here punctually to the moment.”
“Arthur,” said his father quietly, “you had better go on with your breakfast, and not talk so much.”
Arthur coloured, and the breakfast was eaten during the rest of the time in silence—a state of affairs of which Dick took advantage, for the sea air had a wonderful effect upon his food-assimilating powers, and his performance on this particular morning made his brother leave off to stare.
“My, Dick!” he exclaimed at last as that gentleman made an attack upon a second fried sole, one of several brought in by the trawl-boat on the previous night, “I say, how you are eating!”
“Yes,” said Dick, grinning, “I’m a growing boy.”