Arthur coloured and tightened his lips, walking off with his father, too much hurt to say more to his brother, whom he left talking to Will.
“There,” said the latter, impaling the last bit of squid on a hook and then laying it in its place, “that’s ready. Now you’d better do as I do: go home and get some tea and then come back.”
“But it’s too soon,” replied Dick, “I can’t get tea yet—”
“Come home and have some with me then,” said Will.
“All right!” said Dick. “I say, does he live with you? Is he your brother?”
“Hor—hor—hor—hor!” laughed Josh. “That is a good one. Me his brother! Hor—hor—hor!”
“Well, I didn’t know,” said Dick colouring. “I only thought he might be, you know.”
“Oh, no, youngster! I ain’t no brother o’ him,” said Josh, shaking his head. “There, don’t you mind,” he continued, clapping his strong hand on the boy’s shoulder, and then catching hold of him with his short deformed limb, an act that looked so startling and strange that the boy leaped back and stared at him.
Josh’s deformity was his weakest as well as his strongest point, and he looked reproachfully, half angrily, at the boy and then turned away.
With the quick instinct of a frank, generous nature, Dick saw the wound he had inflicted upon the rough fisherman, and glanced first at Will, who was also touched on his companion’s account. Then stepping quickly up to Josh he touched him on the arm and held out his hand.