Hugh laughed—a laugh so hearty it might have been the brick-top's own. The texas tender enjoyed it as he bore a tray of dishes from the room of the twins. Down beyond the bell it drew the father's smile and up at the wheel the stoical gaze of Watson. Half of it was for the exhorter and half for a newcomer at tardy sight of whom the exhorter paled, certain that he had been overheard.
"Oh!" he cried, "I ain't meant no offence to nobody naw tuck none!" and eagerly followed the commodore's beckon to go below with him and the nurse. Hugh, still smiling, met the blazing stare of Julian Hayle.
"Good morning," he said, while Hayle was inquiring:
"May I again ask of you a word in private?"
"Oh, this is private enough," said Hugh. "Every private word I've had with you so far, or with your—coterie, has been so unsatisfactory to you—and them, and so tiresome to everybody, I can't see why you should want another. My friend——"
"We are not friends, sir."
"Well, then, let's make friends. Here's my hand. I'm utterly ashamed of this miserable little spat."
Hayle folded his arms. "You'll find it life-size before we're done."
"Nonsense! it's too small for words, private or otherwise. Let's end it, for that reason if for no better."
"That's not your reason, sir. You have another."