“Did I?” said Dick, colouring a little more deeply. “Well, it was because I wished Taff was here.”
“What, is that your dog?” said the old lady, smiling again.
“No!” cried Dick, laughing; “it’s my brother Arthur. I always call him Taff, because—because—I don’t know why, but I generally call him Taff.”
“I’m sure we should be very pleased to see the young gentleman,” said Aunt Ruth in the most stately manner; and then poor Taff was forgotten, from the fact that, after well assisting the guest, Uncle Abram and Will set such an example in the way of eating that it proved contagious, and Dick was soon proving himself no mean trencherman, while he fully realised the wisdom of the old sailor in always having “a good bit o’ salt provision in cut.”
When they rose from the table Aunt Ruth was quite sure that her visitor had not had half a tea, which words were comforting to Dick, whose conscience, now that he had eaten, was beginning to smite him for behaving so voraciously at these strangers’ table—unnecessary qualms, for his performance had been very mild compared to that of the purser, who shook hands warmly when his guest took leave, Mrs Marion supplementing her good-bye with a warm invitation to come again.
Chapter Eleven.
Dick Temple takes a Lesson in finding his Bearings before the Bolter is laid.
“So your father has to do with mines, has he?” said Will rather eagerly, as the two lads walked down towards the little harbour.