“I see—I see,” said our visitor. “You never were fond of boys, Sophy.”
“No, indeed,” said my aunt.
“Cats and dogs were always more in your way,” said our visitor. “Get out!”
This was to Nap, who had been smelling about him for some time, and he gave him so rough a kick that the dog yelped out, and in a moment the temper that I had promised my uncle to keep under flashed forth again, as I caught at Nap to protect him, and flushing scarlet—
“Don’t kick our dog,” I said sharply.
I’ve often thought since that my aunt ought to have been pleased with me for taking the part of my old friend and her favourite, but she turned upon me quickly.
“Leave the room, sir, directly. How dare you!” she cried. “To dare to speak to a visitor like that!” and I had to go out in disgrace, but as I closed the door I saw our visitor laughing and showing his white teeth.
“I shall hate him,” I said to myself, as I put my hands in my pockets and began to wander up and down the garden; but I had hardly gone to and fro half a dozen times before I heard voices, and I was about to creep round by the side path and get indoors out of the way when Mr Richard Burnett caught sight of me, and shouted to me to come.
I went up looking hurt and ill-used as he was coming down the path with Uncle Joe; but he clapped me on the shoulder, swung me round, and keeping his arm half round my neck, walked me up and down with them, and I listened as he kept on telling Uncle Joseph about where he had been.
“Five years in South America, wandering about away from civilisation, is a long time, Joe; but I shall soon be off again.”