Vane did not condescend to answer, but Macey cried promptly,—
“That he didn’t. Made it all up out of my own head.”
“A miserable insult,” muttered Distin.
“But he had nothing to do with it, Distie,” said Macey; “all my own; and if you wish for satisfaction—swords or pistols at six sharp, with coffee, I’m your man.”
Distin took no heed of him, but stood watching Vane, his dark half-shut eyes flashing as they gazed into the lad’s calm wide-open grey orbs.
“I say,” continued Macey, “if you wish for the satisfaction of a gentleman—”
“Satisfaction—gentleman!” raged out Distin, as he turned suddenly upon Macey. “Silence, buffoon!”
“The buffoon is silent,” said Macey, sinking calmly down into his place; “but don’t you two fight, please, till after we’ve got back and had some food. I say, Gil, is there no place up here where we can buy some tuck?”
“No,” replied Gilmore; and then, “Sit down, Vane. Come, Distie, what is the good of kicking up such a row about nothing. You really are too bad, you know. Let’s, you and I, row back.”
“Keep your advice till it is asked for,” said Distin contemptuously. “You, Macey, go back yonder into the stern. Perhaps Mr Vane Lee will condescend to take another seat.”