“My master could keep anything he liked,” said the boy proudly; and Dick took a two-shilling piece out of his trousers pocket and placed it handy in his vest. “He’s going to have a yatched.”
“A what?”
“A little ship of his own, to go sailing about in.”
“Then he must be very rich?”
“Rich?” said the boy. “I should think he is.”
“And what did you say his business was, my lad?”
“Master’s business is master’s business, and nobody else’s,” said the boy sharply. “Here he is, sir.”
For just then Dick’s cough was heard, and his step in the conservatory. And then, in the whitest of vests and the glossiest of frock-coats, he came into the room as the boy backed out.
“My dear Richard!” cried Max, with effusion—and the tears stood in his eyes as he stretched out his hands—“I am delighted to see you again.”
“Are you?” said Dick coolly, and without taking any notice of the suggested embrace.