He was a little better after they had had a good hearty tea meal, but there was a great deal of truth in Rodd’s mental remark that Uncle Paul was as cross as two sticks. Rodd quite started, feeling as he did that he must have spoken aloud, and Uncle Paul have heard his words, for the doctor turned upon him sharply, stared him full in the face, and exclaimed—
“Now, look here, sir; didn’t I explain to each of those agents exactly the sort of vessel I wanted before they gave me their orders to go and view the craft where they lay in dock or on the mud?”
“Yes, uncle, you told them exactly,” replied Rodd.
“Do I look like an idiot, Rodd?”
“No, uncle. What a question!”
“Then how dare the scoundrels deal with me as if I didn’t know what I was about! I said a schooner as plain as I could speak.”
“You did, uncle.”
“And one sent me to see that ramshackle old brig that looked as if it might have been a tender out of the Armada, and the two others sent me to see a barque that would want twice as big a crew as I should take, and the other to look over that abominable old billy-boy that you couldn’t tell bow from stern, which so sure as she bumps upon a sandbank would melt away like butter. Thinking of nothing else but making a bit of commission, ready to sell one anything; but I am not going to be tricked like that.—Yes, what do you want? What is it?”
For the neat handmaid who attended on the doctor’s wants had tapped at the door, and receiving no answer from her master, whose voice she could hear declaiming loudly, opened the door and walked in, with—
“Somebody wants to see you, sir, if you please.”