“I should make a soldier of him,” said the major to Captain Strong. “The only career for a brave boy, sir, in spite of the disgraceful management at the War Office.”
Mark winced, and glanced towards those peaceful young gentlemen, the German agricultural students; but they were all three beaming upon him with their spectacles, looking about as round in the face and as inexpressive as so many enlarged buns.
He glanced at the little Scottish merchant, but he took snuff and nodded at him.
The stout doctor was looking at him and making notes in a memorandum book, as if he were writing down an account of the affair.
Mr Morgan was on deck; but Mr Gregory, as soon as their eyes met, deliberately winked at him.
He turned his gaze upon his father, to find that he was thoughtfully watching him; while, after receiving a friendly shake of the head from Mrs Major and a merry look from Mary, who seemed to be enjoying his confusion, as a last resource the lad looked at his mother, to find she had ready for him a tender smile.
“And she put three extra lumps of sugar in my tea,” said Mark to himself. “I never felt so ashamed of anything in my life.”
To make matters worse, the major began in a loud voice to talk about the heroic deeds of boys as found in history, and though the saloon cabin was hot enough before, it seemed now to Mark that it was tropical, and he was only too glad to go out on deck and wipe his streaming face in the company of Bruff and Jack the monkey, who, from becoming the companion of the dog, was willing enough to transfer some of his friendliness to the dog’s master.
But even here he was not left in peace, for Billy Widgeon came up to compliment him on his climbing.
“Look ye here, Mr Strong, sir, you’ll do it. You come up with me and we’ll go right up to the main-topgallant cross-trees to-morrow. I’ll see as you don’t fall.”