“No, uncle.”
“Well, I am stunned,” said the old gentleman, rapidly pouring out and tossing off a glass of port. “Brother Harry, what have you to say to this?”
“That it is all nonsense. The boy does not know his own mind.”
“Of course not,” cried the admiral, turning sharply upon Sydney, who went on picking the skin from his walnut. “Do you know, sir, that your family have been sailors as far back as the days of Elizabeth.”
“Yes, uncle,” said the boy, coolly. “I’ve often heard you say so.”
“And that it is your duty, as the last representative of the family, to maintain its honour, sir?”
“No, uncle.”
“What, sir?” cried the old man, fiercely.
“I’m not fit to be a sailor,” continued the boy, quietly enough.
“And pray, why not, Sydney?” said Captain Belton, frowning.