“No, no, Harry, leave him to me,” said the admiral; “I’ll talk to him. Now, sir,” he continued, turning to the boy sternly, “pray what did I say to make you start grinning like a confounded young monkey? I—I—I am not accustomed to be laughed at by impertinent boys.”
“I was not laughing at you, uncle,” said the boy, dragging one hand from his pocket and making a lunge at an apple.
“Leave that fruit alone, sir,” said the admiral, “and don’t tell me a confounded lie, sir. You did laugh at me.”
“I did not,” said the boy; “and that’s not a lie.”
“What!” roared the admiral, turning purple. “How dare you, sir! To the mast-head at once, and stop there till—”
A hearty burst of laughter from his brother and nephew quelled the old man’s anger.
“Ah, you may laugh at that,” he said. “Force of habit. But you’ve got to apologise, you young monkey, for what you said.”
“I can’t apologise for what I did not do,” said the boy, stubbornly.
“What, sir?”
“Steady, steady, sir,” said the captain. “He’s a confoundedly impudent young scamp, but he could not tell a lie.”