“Hah! And in the face of all that I have said and taught you about your being different by your birth and education from the young ragamuffin rout of Rockabie harbour! Cannot you run over there in your boat and do what business you have to carry out without being mixed up in some broil?”
“No, uncle.”
“Disgraceful, sir! A gentleman’s education should teach him that his weapons are words properly applied, and not tooth and nail, blows and kicks.”
“I never bit or kicked, uncle,” said Aleck, sullenly.
“Of course not, sir; and don’t retort upon me in that insolent way. You know perfectly well that I was speaking metaphorically. Did you for a moment imagine I thought you used your teeth and claws like a savage dog?”
“No, uncle.”
“Then don’t reply to me like that. Of course I would know you would use your fists. Look at your knuckles!” thundered the old man.
Aleck looked at those parts of his person dismally, and they looked bad. For the skin was damaged in three places, and the nail of his left thumb was split in a painful way.
“Disgusting,” said the old man. “I trusted you to go over there, and you come back a disreputable wreck. All my teaching seems to be thrown away upon a pugnacious untrustworthy boy.”
“I’m not pugnacious, uncle, if they’d let me alone.”