“Not I, old gentleman,” said Geoffrey, laughing. “I rather like it.”
“Humph! I rather like you too, boy. You seem to do my biliousness good. You can stand a bullying without flying out. I haven’t found a fellow stand it so well since I left the coolies.”
“Mutual admiration,” laughed Geoffrey. “I like you, old gentleman, because you do fly out. It’s quite refreshing after a lot of disappointments to have some one to quarrel with.”
There was another pause.
“I say, Trethick,” said the old man, “then Penwynn and Tregenna are hand-and-glove in this job, eh?”
Geoffrey looked at the old man wonderingly, for he was evidently beating about the bush.
“I don’t know. There, don’t ask me questions, old gentleman,” was the reply. “I’m not at liberty to chatter.”
There was another silence.
“Madge isn’t a bad sort of girl, Trethick,” said the old man at last.
“No,” said Geoffrey; “she’s pretty and amiable, and I believe, poor lassie, she is very good-hearted. I often think you are too hard upon her.”