“Try and be patient with him, Josiah,” said Mrs Lavington pleadingly. “He is very young yet.”
“Patient? I’m afraid I have been too patient. That scoundrel at the yard has unsettled him with his wild tales of the sea; and if I allowed it, Don would make him quite a companion.”
“But, Josiah—”
“There, don’t look like that, my dear. I promised you I would play a father’s part to the boy, and I will; but you must not expect me to be a weak indulgent father, and spoil him with foolish lenity. There, enough for one day. I daresay we shall get all right in time.”
“Oh, yes,” cried Mrs Lavington, earnestly. “He’s a true-hearted, brave boy; don’t try to crush him down.”
“Crush him, nonsense!” cried the merchant, angrily. “You really are too bad, Laura, and—”
He stopped, for just then Don re-entered the room to flush up angrily as he saw his mother in tears; and he had heard enough of his uncle’s remark and its angry tone to make him writhe.
“Ill using her now,” he said to himself, as he set his teeth and walked to the window.
The closing of the door made him start round quickly, to find that his mother was close behind him, and his uncle gone. “What has Uncle Jos been saying to you, mother?” he cried angrily.
“Nothing—nothing particular, my boy,” she faltered. “He has,” cried Don fiercely; “and I won’t have it. He may scold and abuse me as much as he likes, but I will not have him ill use you.”