“Boys!” said Ralph, in a louder key.
“That means ‘attention,’” said Allan, sitting up. All hands followed his example.
“Och! then,” cried Rory, “just look at Ralph’s face. Sure now if we could believe that the dear boy possesses such a thing as a mind, we’d think there was something on it.”
“Well,” said Ralph, smiling, “I sha’n’t keep you longer in suspense; the letter I got to-day from Uig brought me—that is, brought us—glorious news.”
“And you’ve kept it all this time to yourself?” said Rory. “Och! you’re a rogue.”
“I confess,” said Ralph, “it was wrong of me, but I thought we could talk the matter ever so much more comfortably over after dinner, especially in a place like this.
“I’ve got the best father in the world,” said Ralph, with an emphasis, and almost an emotion, which he did not usually exhibit.
“No one doubts it,” said Allan, somewhat sadly; “I wish I had a father.”
“And I,” said Rory.
“Well, would you believe it, boys?” continued Ralph, “he now in this letter offers me what we all so much desire a real yacht, a big, glorious yacht, that may sail to any clime and brave the stormiest seas. He said that though I had never even hinted my wishes, he gathered from my letters that my heart was bent upon sailing a yacht, and that his son should own one worthy of the family name he bore. Oh! boys; aren’t you happy? But what ails you?”