“You saw nothing of the sort,” cried Aleck, fiercely. “You scoundrel! You’ve been sailing her about while I’ve been up the town, and run her on a rock. I did trust you, Tom, and now you try to hoodwink me with a miserable story that wouldn’t deceive a child. Tell me the truth at once, sir, or never again do you sail with me.”
“I won’t,” growled Tom, sturdily.
“What! You won’t tell me the truth?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you the truth, Master Aleck. I mean I won’t say as I took her out and run her on a rock.”
“But you did, sir.”
“Tell yer I didn’t, Master Aleck; she’ve been tied up ever since you went away, and I’ve given her a thorough clean up.”
“And started a plank or two by jumping down upon her with your wooden legs.”
“Nay, I wouldn’t be such a fool, sir. Of course if I did I should go through.”
“I’d have forgiven you the accident,” said Aleck, sternly, “but I can’t forgive the lie.”
Tom stared up at his young employer, and took off his hat to give his head a thorough good scratch, before saying, quietly: