“And is that what made master so cross?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt you very much?” came through the door crack in a whisper.
“Yes—no,” replied Aleck.
“I don’t know what you mean, my dear,” sighed Jane.
“Never mind. Go away, please, now. I’m bathing my face.”
“But my dinner’s all being spoiled, my dear. You won’t come, and master won’t come. What am I to do?”
“Go and sit down and eat it,” cried Aleck, in a passion now; “only don’t bother me.”
“Well, I’m sure!” cried the captain’s maid, tartly. “Master’s temper’s bad enough to drive anyone away, and now you’re beginning too. I don’t know what we’re coming to in—” um—um—murmur—murmur—murmur—bang!
At least that is how it sounded to Aleck as he went on with his bathing, the sharp closing of the passage door bringing all to an end and leaving the boy to continue the bathing and drying of his injuries by degrees, after which he sat down by the open window, to rest his aching head upon his hand and let the soft sea air play upon his temples.