“That’s right, my lad. I never called my father pa. Wants our Will, do he? Well, I was going to send him down to get the boat ready. Go and see what Master Temple wants, my lad. ’Member what I said, Master Dick, sir.”
“All right!” replied Dick; and Will followed him to the door.
“What has my uncle been saying?” he said quickly.
“Oh! only that I wasn’t to notice what your aunt said, and that she don’t mean all that scolding.”
Will drew a long breath, and leaning his arm against the door-post he placed his forehead against it.
“I can’t bear it,” he groaned; “I can’t bear it. I seem to be so poor and dependent, and she is always telling me that I am a beggar and an expense to them. Master Dick, I’d have gone years ago, only it would half break poor old uncle’s heart. He is fond of me, I know.”
“Oh! I say, Will, don’t—please don’t!” cried Dick.
“It hurts me, it does indeed. Oh, how I wish I could do something to help you! I tell you what I’ll do, and Taff shall help me. I’ll save up to help you buy a boat of your own.”
“Thank you,” said Will gently; “but you must not think of that. No, Master Dick.”
“There; don’t call me Master Dick; say Dick. I want you to be friends with me, Will. It’s all nonsense about you only being a fisher lad. My father said only yesterday to Taff that he should have been very proud to have called you his son.”