“Well, I am horribly disappointed. But I like you for it all the more, Morny. You are a regular trump to your father.”
“I!” cried the young man fiercely. “I play the trumpet to my father! Never! If I praise him it is all the truth, because he is so honest and brave and good.”
“Why, what’s the matter now?” cried Rodd in astonishment. “Oh, I see—trump! You don’t know all our English expressions yet. Where’s your dictionary?”
“There was no such word in it that I do not understand,” cried the lad.
“Then it isn’t a good one,” said Rodd merrily.
Explanations followed, and the two lads parted that evening, both eager for the coming of the following day and the attack that was to be made upon the second leak where the ball from the fort had made its exit on the other side nearer the keel.