“No, I join issue there,” said Captain Belton. “You’ve indulged him ten times more than ever I have, Tom.”
“It is not true, brother Harry,” said the admiral, limping to his chair.
“Oh yes, it is. Hasn’t your uncle spoiled you, Sydney, far more than I have?”
“No, father,” replied the boy, quietly, as he helped the old admiral to sit down, and placed an ottoman under his injured leg.
“Thankye, boy, thankye. And you’re not so bad as I said; ’tis quite true, it’s your father’s doing.”
“I think you’ve both spoiled me,” said Sydney, quietly; and the doctor helped himself to another glass of port to hide his mirth.
“Won’t do, Liss, you’re laughing. I can see you,” said the admiral. “That’s just what you doctors enjoy, seeing other people suffer, so that you may laugh and grow fat.”
“Oh, I was not laughing at your pain,” said the doctor, quietly, “but at Sydney’s judgment. He is quite right, you do both spoil him.”
“What?”
“He has three times as much money to spend as is right, and I wonder he does not waste it more. Well, Syd, my boy, so they will not let you be a doctor?”