“Yes, I do,” cried the admiral, fiercely. “Think I was going to bed after a good dinner to shut my eyes whilst that poor boy was half-starved?”
“But it is a punishment for him,” said the captain, sternly.
“Punishment be hanged, sir!” cried Sir Thomas. “Harry, you are my brother, and I am only a guest here, but you are a humbug, sir.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mean that you’ve been bouncing about being strict, and the rest of it, and yet you brought that plate and knife to cut your boy some supper.”
“Well, er—I’m afraid I did, Tom.”
“I’m not afraid, but I’m very glad you’re not such a hard-hearted scoundrel. Poor boy! he must be famished. Here, give me that knife.”
The captain handed the knife, but in doing so brushed his sleeve over the flame of the candle he carried, and extinguished it.
“How provoking!”
“Never mind,” said his brother; “one must do.”