“I was not speaking to you, my good man,” cried the secretary.
“Bad plan to stand nigh the muzzle of a big gun when she’s going to be fired,” growled Ben, in a sententious voice, and the secretary turned upon him sharply.
“And you, sir,” he cried; “how dare you let a boy play such antics? Do you know I heard the shot go by my face.”
“Nay, sir; that I’ll say you didn’t,” growled Ben.
“But I say I did, sir, with a fierce rush.”
“One of the tomtits’ eggs, perhaps, sergeant,” said Roy, dryly. “I know I caught sight of one or two when the nest was rammed in.”
The men all burst out laughing, and Master Pawson grew preternaturally calm.
“Was that meant as an insult, Master Roy?” he said, turning towards him and speaking slowly, with his eyes half shut and an unpleasant, sneering smile upon his lips.
“No, sir; as a joke,” replied Roy, gravely.
“I thank you; but keep your jokes for the servants; try them upon the menials. Recollect that I am a gentleman, placed in authority over you by Sir Granby Royland as tutor and master, and, as I am in authority over you, I am in authority over all here. Have the goodness to recollect that.”