“What! Don’t you know that you would have a uniform and wear a sword—I mean a dirk?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Well, sir? Why, at your time of life I was mad to have my uniform.”
“What for?” said the boy.
“What for, sir? What for? Why, to wear, of course.”
“I don’t want to wear a uniform. You couldn’t climb trees, nor go fishing, nor shrimping, nor riding in a uniform.”
“No, sir,” continued the admiral, after winking and frowning at his brother to leave the boy to him, “of course not. You would be an officer and a gentleman then, and wear a cocked hat.”
“Ha! ha! ha!”
The boy burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and his father frowned.
“Sydney—” he began.